A/N: In this chapter, we get where Leo's angst is coming from, plus some Donna/Sam friendship moments. Hope you enjoy, please read and review!

Chapter 12: Quiet Struggles

Donna leaned over the toilet, heaving the last of her dinner into the bowl. Her nausea was slowly dwindling, enough that the few times it did take over her body caught her completely off-guard.

A few seconds later, Josh came rushing in with a cold compress, which he expertly applied to the back of her neck. He resumed his place next to her, rubbing soothing circles on the center of her back. At least this time, he thought, she didn't have any hair to hold back- a thought that he pushed away immediately.

"How're you feeling?" He asked quietly, his eyes betraying the sorrow and pain he was going through.

Donna hummed. "Not bad. Better than I was a couple of minutes ago."

"That's good. You wanna lay down for a few minutes before you rejoin the family?"

She nodded, allowing Josh to help her to her feet. He pulled her in for a hug. "Just a few more rounds, babe."

"I know," Donna said into his shoulder. Josh led her into the bedroom, where she laid down. Josh sat to her left and began to gently rub her feet, something she said helped the bone aches that plagued her due to the growth factor she was on to raise her white cell count.

"Thank you." She told him, genuinely smiling. "That feels really good."

"Mm. That's why I'm doing it." Josh replied. "I want to do whatever I can to make you comfortable during all this." He paused. "Hey, Leo's special ed teacher called today, says he's been having problems."

"Problems?" Donna said, propping herself up on her elbows. "That doesn't sound like Leo."

"Yeah, well, it didn't to his teacher, either. They want to meet with us tomorrow."

"What time?"

"4:00."

"I'll be out of the office by then."

"If you don't feel up to it, I'm sure they would understand."

"No, I want to go." She insisted. "I'm already missing part of my kids' lives by not being able to go to their extracurricular activities. I'm not missing a parent-teacher conference if I can help it."

"Okay." Josh agreed. He squeezed her hands and kissed her forehead.

…

The next morning, Josh and Donna showed up at the school, ready to meet with Leo's teachers. She had decided ahead of time to wear her wig, just so people didn't ask 100 questions about her health and the focus would be on Leo.

They quickly found Leo's classroom, noting a picture of their family on the wall next to his classmates and their families. Donna felt a little flutter as she noticed the Seaborns among them.

Mrs. Benton stood, sticking out her hand. "Mr. and Mrs. Lyman, so good to see you again."

"Mrs. Benton," Josh said, shaking her hand. Donna followed suit. They repeated this with Mrs. Karp, Leo's special education coordinator, who they knew quite well.

"So," The teacher began, "as I'm sure Mrs. Karp told you on the phone, Leo's been having some issues."

"What sort of issues?" Donna asked, scooting forward.

"Well, he's having trouble concentrating in class-more than he normally does, at any rate. He isn't cooperating either; it usually will take three or four tries for me to get him to follow instructions."

"You said on the phone he's also been picking fights?" Josh brought up.

Donna's eyes widened. "Picking fights?"

"Yes. Usually with kids who are, sorry to say, taking advantage of his vulnerability. There does seem to be one kid who usually sticks up for him."

"Ava Seaborn," Donna said. "She's a sweetheart. Her parents are old friends of ours."

Mrs. Benton pressed her lips together, before proceeding with what she was about to say. "I think perhaps your illness is having a negative impact on him. He's potentially acting out negatively to get attention. Um...how do I ask this? Have you been able to spend any one-on-one time with him since you started treatment?"

Josh and Donna looked at each other, crestfallen. Before her cancer, Donna and Josh had both spent time with him-with all their children, but specifically him, working on homework, life skills, or simply engaging his mind. But these past weeks had been hard on their family routine and schedule, more than, it seemed, Leo could handle.

Josh looked at the women. "We've been...so busy. I mean, I know it's not an excuse. It's simply not. But between her surgery and chemo, and the side effects of those, we've been running ourselves ragged. We just haven't had any real time to spend with any of our kids, and certainly not one-on-one."

"And we understand that." Mrs. Karp spoke up. "But a child with special needs thrives on structure. This is especially true for a child with Down syndrome. They also thrive on positive attention. And, while I understand your family-especially you, Mrs. Lyman-are going through a lot right now, I think it's fair to say that Leo hasn't been getting much of either at home. Is that a fair assessment?"

Donna closed her eyes briefly. It was absolutely true. And in that moment-even though she was well within her rights to be distracted-she felt like a horrible mother. How long had she and Josh been ignoring their youngest son and his needs?

She nodded. "I'm a terrible mother. How did I not-how did I not see it?"

Josh placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Now we know. And now we'll deal with it."

When they got home from the school, they decided they would both go into Leo's room and talk to their son.

Josh tapped on Leo's door, revealing the young boy playing with his Nintendo.

"Have you done your homework yet, buddy?" Josh pointedly asked.

Leo shook his head guiltily. "I need help."

"Okay. I'll help you. But we gotta talk first, OK, bud?" Donna said, crouching down to Leo's level.

Leo nodded.

"Why didn't you tell us you've been acting out in class?"

He shrugged.

"Leo, we need to know where this is coming from," Josh said carefully, but firmly. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Leo looked at his parents. For the first time in weeks, both his parents were paying attention to him. And it was for all the wrong reasons. His face crumpled, and he burst into tears.

"Honey, it's OK," Donna said, immediately sitting on the bed and pulling him to her. "It's OK."

"No, it's not," Leo mumbled. "You're sick. You get sick, nobody listens to me."

Donna felt tears spring to her eyes. She placed a hand over his. "We're listening now."

"Yeah," Josh added. "You bet we are."

Leo looked up. "Really?"

"Really," Donna promised.

He took a deep breath, and then it all came pouring out. "Nothing's the same. When I come home, nobody will play with me, or help me with my homework. Anna always tells me to get out of her room. And Abby says she'll help me, but she never does. And then when I go to school, everyone stares at me. I'm not Leo, I'm the kid whose mom is sick. I get sad about that sometimes. But when the teacher helps me, the other kids pick on me."

Donna made eye contact with Josh. She had absolutely no clue her son was holding all this in. "Oh, baby." She said to Leo, kissing his temple.

"What do they say to you? Which kids are these?" Josh asked crisply. He may be 64 years old, but he wasn't above knocking the heads of a couple of ignorant ten-year-olds together. Or at least calling their parents. Especially when they were involved in an attack on his own son. He may have slowed down in retaliation of Congress, but when it came to his kids, all bets were off.

"They call me a 'teacher's pet'. It's just a couple of kids, Eli and Wyatt. Ava usually makes them stop."

"Do you tell the teacher when they pick on you?" Donna asked.

Leo shook his head. "Mostly I'm too sad. And mad."

"Mad?"

"If you didn't have cancer, people wouldn't be so mad at me and ignore me all the time."

Donna picked his chin up, forcing him to look at her. "Honey, listen to me. I didn't choose to get sick. And it's not your fault, either. So I want you to get that out of your head right now. I'm sorry that kids have been teasing you. Next time this happens, I want you to come to us so we can help you make it stop. But this is the most important thing. There are going to be times where maybe we can't spend as much time with you during this as you're used to, and I'm sorry for that. But I want you to know that we're gonna try our best. And we're gonna talk to your sisters and brother so that they know not to dismiss you all the time. Does that sound good?"

Leo nodded, his face brightening considerably. "I'm sorry I haven't been good at school. I'll try harder."

"Thank you," Donna replied. "I'm glad to hear it. Now, are you ready to start your homework?"

"Uh-huh."

"What'd you have today?" She asked as he picked up his backpack and led her out of the room. Josh followed and noticed, like his wife, the immediate change in their son's demeanor. It was as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He wondered if their older kids were having just as much trouble adjusting to their new normal.

…

A few weeks later, Donna headed to the White House for something she had been looking forward to for quite some time. Following her fourth round of treatment, Sam and Ainsley had invited her over for lunch on the second Saturday in March. They invited Josh, too, but he had suggested she go alone, get some time to herself for the first time since her diagnosis.

As she walked in and was cleared by Security, Donna found herself thinking about her son and daughters. They seemed to be handling things well, and took care of their brother in stride.

"Hey, Donna!" said a voice with a very familiar North Carolina accent.

Donna turned around to see Ainsley approaching her.

"Ainsley," Donna said, grinning. She threw her arms around her. "How have you been?"

"I've been good. I've been better, but I've also been worse."

"That's a good way to look at it." Ainsley praised. "That scarf looks good on you." She knew Donna had lost her hair to chemo and was pleased to see she was no longer embarrassed by it.

"Thanks," Donna said, self-consciously lifting her hand to her head. For that day, she had picked a teal paisley scarf. "I thought about wearing my wig, but then I figured I didn't need to hide this from you guys. You wouldn't care."

"No, we don't," Ainsley reassured her, putting her arm around Donna's thin shoulders. "C'mon. Sam's waiting for us up in the Residence."

Sam stood up from reading the newspaper. "Hey, you." He greeted, coming over to kiss Donna on the cheek. "You look great. Really beautiful."

"Thank you," Donna replied. It was just the thing she needed to hear.

"So," Sam said, clapping his hands together. "The chef made lunch. I told him to cook something that would be easy on your stomach. I didn't know if you were still having nausea when your chemo was last week."

"It usually doesn't last beyond the first 72 hours, but sometimes it'll pop up randomly. Thank you for thinking of me, though."

"Of course," Sam said. He folded his napkin in his lap. "We're having chicken salad sandwiches if that appeals to you."

"Yes, actually, for the first time in a week."

"Food sensitivity?"

Donna waved her hand back and forth. "Eh. Sometimes."

"Well, we're glad you're here," Sam replied, grasping her hand.

"Yeah, it's nice to finally see you in person rather than through a screen," Ainsley added. Over the past eight weeks, Sam and Ainsley had used their extremely limited video-chat software to check in with Donna at least once a week. Donna lived for their weekly calls.

"Tell me about it," Donna said as the steward brought their food.

They dug in, and soon they were engaged in lively conversation, mostly about the old days.

A half-hour later, 15-year-old Connor and 10-year-old Ava wandered in, and their faces lit up when they saw who their parents were eating with.

"Aunt Donna!" They both chorused, rushing over for a hug.

"Wash your hands first," Ainsley told her children. She knew that Donna may be immunocompromised, and she wanted to keep her as healthy as possible.

"Hey, guys!" Donna exclaimed, hugging first Ava, then Connor once the two had washed their hands. "I've missed seeing you!"

"Yeah," Connor replied. "I had a cold, and Mom said I couldn't come over because of your immune system."

"Well, your mother was right," Donna told him. "Why don't we go sit over on the couch, and you can tell me all about how school's going."

The kids joined Donna on the couch and began chatting.

"Aunt Donna?" Ava asked. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask away," Donna told her with a smile.

"Are you all better?"

"I'm getting there." She answered honestly. "The doctors say that I'm beating this, and that there's every hope that by the time I come out of this, it'll be for good. In fact," Donna paused, knowing that this was the first time she had shared this information outside her immediate family, "the cancer in my lymph node is almost completely gone."

"What?" Ainsley shrieked. "That's amazing!"

"That's really great to hear, Donna," Sam said, coming over to hug her.

"And Ava?"

The ten-year-old nodded.

"I wanted to thank you. For sticking up for Leo."

"Oh," Ava said bashfully. "It was really nothing."

Donna chuckled. "You're just like your father. You're too modest." Her voice softened. "I think that meant more to him than you know."

Ava smiled. "Happy to do it."

After a few minutes, Ava went to her room to play. Connor scooted closer. "Aunt Donna, can I just...mention something?"

"Sure," Donna said, nodding.

"Well...the past few weeks, actually more like the last two months, Matty's been kind of out of it."

Donna's curiosity was immediately piqued. "Out of it how?"

"Just...not wanting to talk about you, or much of anything, really. He's going to soccer, but he doesn't really enjoy it anymore. I think he's having trouble with this."

Donna smiled comfortingly. "Thank you for telling me. I know that was hard."

Connor shrugged. "Just trying to be a friend."

Inwardly, Donna sighed. What was about her kids not wanting to express their feelings?

A/N: What's going on with Matty? Stay tuned for the next chapter! Let me know what you thought!