III

"You're sure you're ready to do this?"

Jed smiled at his wife, but though she returned the expression it didn't erase the worry in her eyes. "I'm sure," he agreed softly.

"Do you want me with you?"

Always.

"I'll be fine."

"Jed-"

"Abbey." He gently touched her hand. "This is... it's just something I think I should do by myself." Perhaps if he'd broken it down into blocks of logic he could have found the argument of not seeming to need support, not bringing up parallels of the public announcement two years ago - but really, it was much more instinctual than that. Just a gut feeling that this was something he had to do alone, without that safety net, that option of sitting back and letting somebody else answer the hard questions. The questions he didn't truly want to ask himself.

"Okay," she nodded. Understanding, even if she wasn't happy about it.

"Okay," Jed smiled back.

They were silent a moment. "If they need to ask-"

"Abbey."

"I'm just saying, if you're not comfortable, if you don't want to-"

"I'll be fine."

"Send them to me," she continued, regardless. She looked him in the eye. "If you need to, send them to me."

He wouldn't, whatever happened, but he nodded anyway. And then, because it was almost painful to look into her eyes and see how much she loved him, he said "You know this is probably going to be nothing."

He was sure of that, believed it, believed it with the same force he gave his prayers for his loved ones, with the same force he believed that the young men he sent into combat would survive, would come back, wouldn't die in vain.

He believed it because it had to be true.

But Abbey, who had always seen through him better than any other person he'd ever known, simply reached up and touched his cheek. "What if it isn't nothing?"

And for that, he didn't have an answer.

Josh could feel the rising apprehension like a crackle of static through the room, sliding over his skin and making it itch with nervous energy.

CJ looked tense, her hands constantly in motion where they were clasped together in her lap. Sam was frowning and kept adjusting his glasses. Toby was motionless, staring at his shoes. None of them spoke.

The click of the opening door was quiet, but they were all on their feet the moment they heard it. "Mr. President."

"Everybody sit down," he nodded quietly, taking a seat across from them. Josh found himself examining him, searching for... what?

Searching for something. Anything.

The president was silent for a long moment. Looking down at the carpet, not at any of them. Josh felt the tension in his stomach tighten like a vicious cramp, and begin to twist...

And then the president looked up. And Josh saw something in his eyes that he didn't want to see, something that he'd seen in a hastily-scheduled late meeting two years ago, only then, back then before the world started shifting, he hadn't understood what it meant...

The president sighed, and began to speak. "Some of you may have noticed this... in fact, I'm willing to bet that probably you all have. Maybe even as far back as I first did."

And something inside Josh was screaming denials - he hadn't seen anything, really hadn't seen anything, because he knew there wasn't anything - but he didn't speak.

"I've been having... some trouble," the president continued haltingly. "Stiffness in my back, sometimes in my legs - a bit of pain sometimes... Blurry vision, sometimes, and fatigue..." His mouth twisted into a half-smile which none of them could return. "I'm think I'm getting old. I'm probably just getting old. But-" He took a breath, and leaned forward in his chair to rest his chin on interlaced fingers. "What I might think and feel about this takes second place to my duty as president of this country. If there's a chance, however small, that this could be-" his voice wavered for just a second - "something more than that, then I have a duty to check it out."

He straightened up, becoming firmer and less hesitant as he moved from dark intangibles to practicalities. "Tomorrow, Abbey and I are going to see a specialist, a Dr. Joseph Keeble. I'm going to get some tests done, we're going to check on the general state of my health. He paused for a beat. "This may very well be nothing - I think it probably is nothing - but I have a duty to the people to be absolutely certain of that fact, and you have a right to know that this is happening."

And then there was silence, and if there were things to say to fill it none of them had a handle on them. Josh was finally able to pull his gaze away from the president long enough to look at his companions. Sam looked deathly pale, his lips compressed into a thin, tight line. Toby was gazing at the president intently, no room in his attention for the rest of his surroundings.

And CJ... CJ looked away as she registered Josh's eyes on her, but not quite quickly enough. He caught a flash of her taut, pained features and saw that she was dangerously close to the verge of tears.

Then the president was standing up, and they all stood with him. "I'll be talking to you again when I know more of what's going on." He swept his eyes over the four of them, and Josh made himself meet his gaze. "But after all you've been through for me and for this presidency, you have a right to know that this is happening."

"Yes sir," said Sam softly.

"Mr. President," Josh nodded.

The president smiled quietly, and nodded in return; a thanks that it was easier for all of them if he didn't say aloud. "I'll be in the Residence. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr. President."

As they left the room, Josh hurried to try and catch up with CJ.

Toby hung back as the others filed out around him. The president slid his hands into his pockets and smiled faintly, as if he'd expected this. After all, it was a kind of symmetry. "Toby."

"Mr. President."

"You've come to ask me-"

"If you've considered resignation."

There. That was it, spoken; stark even by his standards - but wasn't it his place here to confront the president with truths other people preferred to leave buried? Perhaps it should have been Leo's place, but Leo loved the president too much to hurt him even when he had to.

It was all very well to love the president, but somebody had to love the presidency.

It was his love of the office and all it represented that made him push where others would step back, force a confrontation when the anger mattered less than the truth and the reality.

Tonight, however, the president didn't shout, only bowed his head for a moment. He took a breath, and then met Toby's eyes. "I want to serve my country, Toby. And if that's what it takes... then that is what I'll do."

A small smile curled the edges of his lips, not quite bright enough to be called 'genuine' but not precisely false, either. A smile of determination. "And furthermore; we will not pull back, we will not hesitate, we will not seek to cushion ourselves in preparation for a future blow. The presidency goes beyond my fortune or the public's favour, and we will not compromise our goals to ease us into an uncertain future."

And that was it; the answer. The answer he'd been waiting for ever since that fateful day two years ago, since long before the president was willing to admit he needed to give it.

He nodded once, slowly, with the finality of a pact being sealed. The sanctity of the presidency would be preserved. The gauntlet of Congressional investigation, the censure, reelection... those weren't the true tests. This was the real thing... and Jed Bartlet had passed.

Toby shifted on his feet, in the uncomfortable - and uncommon - position of feeling the need to apologise. He'd doubted, when the truth first came out, that the president understood the true magnitude of what this could mean for his office and his duty to the people. Now he knew that those doubts had been misgiven.

"Mr. President-" he smiled awkwardly at his shoes- "about two years ago-"

"You were right, Toby," the president said quietly.

Toby looked up to meet his gaze. "But I was wrong-headed."

The president chuckled, a low rumble of amusement. "Yes, well, we've rather grown to expect that."

Toby smiled back, and straightened up. "Goodnight... Mr. President."

"Goodnight, Toby."

It definitely wasn't part of the plan to get caught sniffling in her office. But then, which part of this hellish day had been going to plan in any case?

"CJ, are you okay?" Josh hesitated in her doorway, his voice and eyes gentle enough that they threatened to set her off crying for real.

But she wasn't going to do that. She was the White House press secretary, and she was damned if she was going to do that.

CJ composed her face a little and swivelled in her chair to face him. She didn't say anything, just let the moment speak for itself.

Josh smiled in tired understanding, and came in to sit on the side of her desk. "This is all pretty..." he trailed off, and shrugged his shoulders; not finding a word, but not truly needing one.

"Yeah."

He hesitated. "Do you think-?" He didn't finish, and she didn't have an answer anyway. She didn't think anything, didn't want to think anything. Didn't want to have this last half hour preserved in her memory.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"You want me to walk you home?" he asked softly. And she could've made some big thing about how she was a big girl and she could look after herself, except that wasn't why he was offering and she knew it.

"Okay." CJ stood up and reached for her coat.

Better Josh's company than Toby's tonight, because even though Toby wouldn't say anything, he knew. Knew about her father. And CJ didn't want anybody making that connection - because there was no connection to be made.

Just because her father was dying, just because her father was losing his mind... that didn't mean the president was going to go the same way.

Didn't. Didn't. Didn't.

"Hey, Sam!" Steve grinned brightly at the sight of the speechwriter on his doorstep, but the expression faded abruptly as he registered Sam's shaken condition. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" He stepped out into the street to take hold of him, suddenly worried that he might actually fall down right there in the road.

"I- I just- I can't, um-" Sam's face was taut with distress as he struggled to find words.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." Steve had no idea what was going on but it was second nature to speak soothingly, bring a hand up to smooth Sam's hair. "What's wrong, Sam? You can tell me."

Sam just mutely shook his head, with an expression of such misery he looked about six years old. He buried his face against Steve's shoulder.

"It's okay. It's okay. I got you," Steve said gently, rubbing his back. "Whatever it is, I got you. Now come on. Come inside." He pressed a brief, comforting kiss to Sam's temple and then led him through the door.

Neither of them was in any position to notice the flash of the camera.