Vinick's staff is bursting with applause and whoops of their own, but Bruno the Anti-Josh is still tense, standing in front of the TV. Jane announces that they lost the House, just so that she can bring down the mood. Bob asks her, "How did the speaker sound?" "He sounded unemployed," she says. With that, they turn back to the talking head, who finally announces one of the biggest outcomes of the night: Texas is going to Santos. Heads hang at Vinick's office...

...but champagne pops at Santos HQ. I'm getting a little bit worried that with all of these ups and downs every few minutes, someone is going to end up with a neck pull, but so far it seems safe. Donna tries to be a bit cautious, but Lou's the one holding the champagne, and is clearly resting easier now. Bram runs into the hall and sweeps a joyous Ronna up over his shoulder and swings her around. It's a really sweet moment and a welcome relief from the grief. Everyone breaks into "Deep In The Heart Of Texas," and I love that, in the background, someone runs into the war room with red and blue thunder sticks, just apropos of nothing. She's not using them, she's just running with them. Bram turns and sees Santos, and they share a glance as he sweeps Helen into a dance. Donna joins the fray but is the only person not happy as she looks around. Bram notices her and announces, "It's all down to California now," but she's looking for Josh.

Donna walks through the revelers and then comes out the elevator on a different floor, asking a Secret Service agent if he's seen Josh; she's directed to Leo's room. Inside, Josh is just leaning against the couch and staring at everything left in the room. Leo's glasses are still on the table next to his watch, ready to be put on so he can head to the ballroom. Every item to be seen is a symbol of a life not meant to stop in a split second. Josh loudly chokes and sniffles and wipes his hand on his sleeve, saying through tears that he's called Housekeeping to clean up everything left by the paramedics, so that Mallory will be spared seeing it. I like that they worked her in -- I'm sorry we couldn't see her, but I think it would have been stranger to wonder where Leo's daughter was throughout the night rather than to hear it confirmed that she was there. Donna tells him somberly, "We won Texas," and Josh chortles. She continues: "And California would put us over. You've done a remarkable thing. Win or lose. An extraordinary thing." She's clearly sad, but even more worried about making Josh okay, and the look in her eyes is amazing with the level of worry and caring that's reflected. Josh's crying becomes audible, and in a gut-wrenching moment, he spits, "I talked him into this, into joining the ticket." The guilt on his shoulders is almost visible through the pain in his voice. Donna gently counters, "No one ever talked Leo into doing anything he didn't want to do. And he'd want you upstairs, not down here. You belong up there; it's your night." She takes a step toward him and adds, "He was so proud of you, Josh." Josh just drops his head clumsily into Donna's chest as she lays her hand on his arm, and there's a long, sad shot of them framed by the mess left by the paramedics all over the floor.