IV

"Oh, man." Josh dropped another newspaper on the desk. "This is not good."

"And you're surprised at that?" said Toby with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

"Look at this." Josh spread the pages, and Sam leaned over.

"Jesus," he breathed softly. The Washington Post had gone one better than its rivals, not just printing the story but fishing through its archives for a photograph of a younger Jed Bartlet to place alongside that of Daniel Gerrold.

The resemblance, obvious even in the face of the president as they knew him now, was almost frightening.

"You know, I don't look half that much like my dad," Josh observed quietly. Sam shook his head.

"Me neither." He looked at Josh seriously. "This is bad, isn't it?"

"Oh, this is way beyond bad."

CJ arrived, stack of papers in hand. She tossed them one by one onto the desk. "Family Values, Family Values, Family Values - gee, they're really taxing their creativity on this one, aren't they? Oh, here's a new one; 'Secrets and Lies: Another Skeleton in the Bartlet Closet'."

"Wait 'til you see the centrefold." Josh waved the matched pair of photographs at her.

"Well, that'll go just fine on the news at ten, next to the footage of my emphatic denial," CJ observed dryly.

"Play up the New Hampshire connection," said Toby from the back of the room.

"Founding of the state," Josh nodded. "You can't refute the family resemblance, so go with it."

"The president agrees that it's a remarkable likeness, but he's pretty sure he'd remember if he had a son," Sam chimed in. "He would point out that yes, New Hampshire is his home state - in fact, it's home to the entire Bartlet dynasty, stretching back X number of generations."

"Got it." CJ grimaced. "Unfortunately, the next question's gonna be pointing out that the aunt's claiming the father is specifically our Bartlet."

"Challenge her to present evidence," Josh said sharply. CJ scowled at him.

"Oh, attack the woman speaking out after thirty years of frightened silence, that'll play well."

"Point out that you don't know the full story-" began Toby.

"-Since the press have been pretty skimpy on the details," CJ interjected, and he nodded.

"Make a point that it's the aunt coming forward, not the mother. She could easily be mistaken."

"Generally plays a lot better than 'lying bitch'," CJ noted wryly.

"You bet," agreed Josh.

"Josiah Bartlet's a pretty famous name." Sam took up the narrative. "Kind of name that gets handed out left right and centre in an extensive, long-established family-"

"With strong genes," Josh added.

"I'm not sure that's helping our case," CJ pointed out.

"No, but it's getting the possibility out there. Can we get any pictures of the president's family - father, brother, any uncles or cousins? Make a big thing of how much they all look alike."

"Do they all look alike?" CJ wondered. Josh blinked.

"I sure hope so. Otherwise we're deeply screwed."

"We can be screwed deeper than this?" demanded Sam.

"Guys?" CJ pointed out. "We're playing defence here, and there's only so far it can take us. All we're doing is widening the pool of possible fathers - we're not taking the president out of it."

"We're on it," said Josh, and Sam and Toby both nodded.

"Okay. I've gotta be out there." CJ left, and Sam looked across at Josh.

"We're on it?"

"As soon as we figure out what 'it' is and how to get on board? Yeah, sure."


The First Couple watched CJ's press briefing in taut silence. Abbey couldn't help glancing across at her husband's stony face. It held no clue to what he was thinking.

She learned that this woman - this woman who they were claiming to be 'the other woman' - was named Rebecca Gerrold. Was it wrong to hate a dead woman when you knew nothing more about her than her name? Probably, but she felt the need to anyway.

The press were like jackals, circling CJ and firing leading questions, but Abbey could almost sympathise with them. She had questions, too. A whole host of burning questions which she knew asking would be a terrible idea, and yet she needed to hear the answers to.

Love, trust. She loved her husband. She trusted him. She always knew what he was feeling, always knew what she was thinking.

Why couldn't she tell what he was thinking?

The briefing ended, and Jed rose to silently switch off the TV. "Well," he said softly.

"Well," Abbey repeated, and wondered why she couldn't find any more words to string after it.

"Rebecca Gerrold..." she said after a long silence. "Did you know her?"

The question slipped out, almost against her will. She couldn't tell if Jed was stung by it or not.

"No. I've never heard of her," he said simply.

Well, that was all right then, wasn't it? If Jed said he'd never met the woman, then he'd never met the woman. Her husband was honest, almost pathologically so. She had no reason to suspect he would ever tell a lie.

She just wished she could figure out whether she believed him.