Title: Divided We Fall
Author: Melissa Jooty (e-mail me at cosmic_quest@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: The characters of 'The West Wing' are the property of Aaron Sorkin, NBC and Warner Brothers Television and no profit has been made by my utilizing them in my story. All other characters are my creation and therefore belong to me.
Rating: PG-13 for language and angst.
Spoilers: Mainly episodes from the second and third season.
Summery: The President is not the only one with secrets.
Archiving: As long as you ask first, it should be okay.
Author's Notes: This is my first TWW fiction so please feel free to let me know how well I did with it. Also, I haven't seen much of season two and only half of season three so much of the spoilers will be from what I read in episode reviews.

He tried to ignore the familiar tightness of his chest, futilely massaging his chest and ribs through his dress shirt. The pressure had been present since he woke up but Sam had tried to pass it off as a tense and weary reaction to coming into an office still reeling from, and struggling to deal with, the news of President Bartlet's MS. However, Sam could no longer disregard the growing strain in drawing air into his lungs nor could he pretend not to notice the faint bubbling noise to his breathing.

Asthma had played a large role in Sam's life ever since he was diagnosed at the age of five. In those first couple of years, the condition had asserted a tight hold over his childhood to the point where he could barely go a fortnight without wheezing. By the time he turned seven, his doctors were able to bring his condition under control but by then the damage was done, his parents were determined to wrap him up in cotton wool until the day he left for university. It certainly didn't help that he was always the scrawny, small kid of his class.

Even when he was away at college, his parents continued to harass him about his medication and general health until Sam decided he'd had enough of the coddling and announced it seemed he had out-grown the illness which had plagued his life. True, it did make its presence known at times of stress or extreme exhaustion but no-one else need know that. He wasn't a child, he didn't need his parents anxiously flying to his side ever time he had so much as a cough.

And so, to this day, only his elder brother and sister knew the truth. Sam hadn't even let slip to Josh during their younger days together for fear of arousing his best friend's mother hen mode. He had spent much of his childhood wrapped in cotton wool, he wasn't going to allow Josh to continue where they left off. The whole reason he had spent months cajoling his parents into letting him attend an out-of-state university was so he could be finally free from the constant worrying and clucking. His two siblings had agreed to keep quiet on the promise Sam would call them if he was sick, though these days he didn't feel the need to worry them now that they were all adults with their own lives to lead.

He had planned to tell his friends and fellow senior staff soon after joining them in the campaign and then later when they were elected into the White House only the opportunity to bring up the subject never really made itself known. Admittedly, because Sam felt the problems incited when his asthma was aggravated were minor enough for him to deal with himself.

Then, last Christmas, when he did suffer a rather severe attack, he decided it was best to again go it alone and he managed to conceal it from everyone. It wasn't that he was being stubborn and didn't take the asthma seriously as his zealous doctor suggested, rather that Josh was the one most in need of support with his PTSD. Sam didn't want to place further burdens on the shoulders of the already vulnerable Josh as well as their friends whose main concerns should have been, quite rightly, primarily on the Deputy Chief of Staff.

And now he discovered that President Bartlet, a man he looked up to and admired, had kept the secret of his MS from the senior staff and the entire country for all this time, Sam forced aside his feelings of betrayal to realize maybe Bartlet was right in handling his condition in that manner. He didn't need people clucking after him. It was bad enough that they were beginning to exclude him over the simplest matters, Sam didn't want to further exacerbate matters by having them treat him like an invalid child too.

Besides, it wasn't as if they lived in the Stone Age, asthma was no longer the life threatening disease it used to be.

Only now, as he struggled to smother the slight whistling sound that was now audible in his breathing, he found himself recalling the statistics for asthma-related deaths and remembering they were not as low as he led himself to believe. Maybe it *was* time for the inhaler.

Sam reached down to unlock the secured bottom drawer of his desk, where he kept his emergency medication tucked away from prying eyes, only to find on top of the piles of accumulated papers was the never-worn silver Medi-Alert bracelet his sister had bought him a few years ago, a long time expired preventative inhaler, an empty bottle of his theophylline pills and a dated prescription for the now needed reliever inhaler. He had meant to fill the script out a year ago but had understandably forgotten when a few days after receiving it, they had almost lost Josh in the shooting.

He choked back his panic. His specialist was going to be so pissed. No, it would be okay. All Sam had to do was nip out to the pharmacy for another inhaler or just drop in at home to collect the spare in his bathroom cabinet and hopefully an impending attack would be avoided leaving both his colleagues and his Nazi doctor none-the-wiser. Everything would be fine.

Just as he planned his little escape in which he prayed no-one would notice, Toby suddenly poked into Sam's office notching his head slightly as an indication for his deputy to follow.

"Meeting in the Oval," he informed, already moving without waiting for Sam to follow.

Any other day Sam would have been bitterly grateful they actually acknowledged he was a member of the White House senior staff. Today, his complete concentration was on actually making his way to the Oval Office without collapsing into a fit of wheezing. Half-an-hour, all he had to do was keep up his picture of health facade for another half-an-hour then he could retrieve his medication.

He could do this.

He managed to pull away from his desk and traipse behind Toby towards the Oval Office. The older man was joined by Josh and CJ, the trio talking amongst each other not noticing that Sam was trailing them with difficultly. He heard a couple of people passing him ask him in concern if he was alright but he was too preoccupied with the building pressure in his chest to form a response. By now, Sam could feel his heartbeat pulsating through his whole body, the beat far too fast than what passed for norm. A deeper part of him recognized his rapid heart rate as a symptom of an imminent asthma attack.

Either through sheer luck or his own special brand of bull-headed stubbornness, he somehow made the short trip to the Oval Office although he arrived significantly after everyone else and found the others standing around the President waiting for him. Ordinarily, he would have muttered a sheepish apology for holding them up but today he could barely suck in enough oxygen to remain conscious let alone to talk. His lungs were beginning to close up and there was little he could do about it.

Morbidly, he wondered if he was going to be the first casualty within the Oval Office.

When Sam swept into the office, Josh had to admit he was a little annoyed the younger man sluggish pace had delayed the meeting from starting until, that was, he had a proper look at the Deputy Communications Director. Sam's typically tanned handsome features appeared positively bleached of all colour, except for his lips which had taken on a faint bluish tint. A light sheen of cold sweat dampened his face and neck and he was clearly struggling to remain upright, clutching the corner of the President's desk in a white-knuckled hold yet swaying slightly despite the support.

It was that noise that instantly enticed the cold tendrils of fear to coil up Josh's spine.

The alarming strangled wheeze accompanying his best friend's strained attempts to breathe. His shoulders were hunched over and his free hand opened and shut in a clenched fist. When Sam forced himself to look up, his eyes were wide in uncharacteristic terror.

Josh found himself frozen to the spot, locked onto the distress reflected within the ever-expressive cerulean-blue orbs of his closest friend. For an instant, he was transported to his early childhood gazing into the mirrored fear of his sister's dark eyes before he ran away, abandoning her to the flames.

The moment was broken when Toby quickly stepped forward to his deputy, obviously striving to contain the tumultuous emotions felt by all in the room. "Sam? Sam, what's wrong?" he demanded.

"Panic attack?" he heard CJ utter quietly, the words barely audible against Sam's wheezing.

Swallowing their own fear for their friend's sake, Josh and Toby moved as one to steady the weakening Sam, easing him into a sitting position when his knees gave out. They tried to lay him down but Sam, shoulders remaining distinctly hunched, resisted with what little strength he had so instead they leaned him against the desk. While Toby backed away slightly, Josh remained close to his friend to the point of practically sitting on his lap. For his part, Sam had transferred his stranglehold from the desk corner to clamp onto the wrist of Deputy Chief of Staff. His grip was tight, Josh's bones protesting at the sharp pain yet he said nothing and allowed his poor wrist to provide what little comfort it could.

The President knelt down by the pallid speechwriter's side, shaking his head. "This is too serious to be a panic attack, his breathing is too laboured for that..." As he spoke, he had whipped off Sam's tie and was unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. "Leo, call an ambulance and get Abbey in here now! Tell her Sam is having what looks like an asthma attack."

Bartlet had barely finished the sentence before Leo briskly left the office to carry out the orders. By now CJ had joined the other three men on the floor, her brow was furrowed in helpless anguish, but allowing Bartlet to continue doing whatever he was doing since he was the only one out of them who had some general idea of what to do.

A detached part of Josh guessed the President didn't spend three decades married to a doctor without learning a thing or two. And a deeper part of him, the part in denial that his friend was dying right there in front of him, wanted to shout, 'of course it's not asthma'. Sam was the paradigm for health, people like him didn't suffer from anything. But then people like Jed Bartlet were not meant to have MS.

Toby pulled back his hand from the pulse point in Sam's neck, scowling deeply. "Shit, his pulse is racing!"

"Sam, can you talk?" the President asked, with a calm that belayed his concern.

"Come on, Sam, say something," Josh begged in a far less dignified manner.

However, he honestly didn't care; decorum was the last thing on his mind at this very moment in time. All he wanted was some sign from his fallen friend that he was improving, verbal reassurance from Sam himself that everything was going to be okay. His pleas went unheeded despite the obvious efforts of his best friend, all Sam could manage was a choked gasp between his wheezing.

In fact, even to untrained Josh's ears, it was evident the awful high-pitched whistling that accompanied each breath was beginning to quieten not due to rallying against the condition but more to do with Sam's plain and simple exhaustion. Suddenly, Josh began to inwardly pray for the wheezing to pick up again, at least then he would know the younger man was still with them.

"Okay, it's okay, just relax," Bartlet soothed, as if talking to a small child rather than one of the most senior men in the country. "Sam, I need you to look at me. Do you have your inhaler with you?" When Sam finally managed a jerky shake of his head, the President murmured a very unpresidential curse. "It's alright, just hang on, Sam, Abbey will be here soon."

They watched in collective shock as suddenly Sam's wheezing turned into futile little gasps for air. Then there was complete silence. His lips were now undisputedly tainted blue, oxygen deprivation taking hold, and his eyes widened in terror before rolling back as his eye lids slid closed. Josh was on the brink of an encore performance of his own when the grasp Sam had on his wrist loosened, his hand falling away, and the speechwriter slumped against the President, his chest still.
Trembling, Josh reached for Sam's limp form and began shaking him. "Wake up, Sam, come ON!"

"No, Joshua," CJ warned, "you'll hurt him."

Toby and CJ quickly hauled him off and Bartlet gathered Sam into his arms then gently laid him flat on the floor probably in response to begin CPR. Sure enough, the President tilted Sam's head back then proceeded to breathe air into his lungs. CJ firmly keeping hold of Josh, Toby swiftly moved to where Josh had sat by Sam's side as he prepared to do the chest compressions if needed.

"He's still got a pulse," Toby said, his hand once again resting on Sam's carotid pulse. "It's weak and still too fast."

Before the situation could further deteriorate, Abigail Bartlet swept into the Oval Office carrying her black leather medical bag and Leo in tow. Everyone was rendered silent, Leo blanching at what he saw, as the First Lady took a second to assess the scene where the Communications Director was now maintaining the role of Sam's failed lungs and her husband was slightly breathless from his own stint of assisting with the artificial respiration.

"How long has he been down?" she asked, taking Toby's place when he shifted back to where CJ and Josh were. Whatever shock she felt herself was quickly smothered back by the professionalism that came forth automatically.
"About a minute," Toby answered. "He just...his breathing just stopped..." He said the last words in a dazed disbelief.

"Ambulance been called?"

"Yeah," Leo responded this time, "should be here in a few minutes. What about Sam? Is he going to be okay?"

The First Lady didn't reply, too intent on her patient. Josh nearly choked in empathy when she carefully inserted a flexible trach tube into Sam's mouth and down his throat. She then attached a plastic balloon-like device to the end of the tube hanging from Sam's mouth and squeezed it in a regular motion. Anxiously mesmerised, Josh noticed Sam's chest was beginning to rise and fall to the same rhythmic movements as Abbey's breathing apparatus and his skin regained a little colour, losing the death-like hue.

He relaxed ever so slightly; the weight on his own chest easing with the knowledge that at least Sam was breathing, albeit not under his own steam.

Finally, Abbey spoke, her tone commanding. "Okay, he's getting oxygen again but I need to examine him." She glanced around at her attentive audience. "CJ, come over here."

CJ released her hold on Josh and mutely shifted so she was sitting opposite the First Lady with Sam lying between them. While the press secretary was petrified and seemingly on the brink of tears, she was minutely calmer than the rest of her colleagues.

"Now, CJ, I'm going to let you take over the ambu bag. Just continue to squeeze it at a steady pace, count it out if it helps." Abbey's voice conveyed calm and confidence but Josh could see it was more for CJ's benefit and she was truthfully hesitant to hand over the responsibility to a layperson.

The physician transferred the apparatus into CJ's uncertain hands and the red-haired woman did as instructed under Abbey's watchful eye. "Is this okay?" The press secretary, who had defended the White House on many an occasion from the vultures of the worldwide media and within the White House was a force to be reckoned with, had never sounded so nervous.

"You're doing fine, just keep doing that."

Intoxicated with overwhelming emotions, vacillating between relief Sam was being treated and crushing agitation that until the younger man was up and talking he could still so easily slip away from them, Josh mirrored the other men as they turned their gazes from CJ to Abbey. The doctor had completely ripped open Sam's shirt and was listening to his chest through a stethoscope. Frowning deeply, she tore the unconscious deputy's shirt sleeve past his elbow. Patting for a vein, the First Lady prepared a syringe then proceeded to inject the clear substance into her patient's arm.

No-one questioned why she still had the medical instruments and drugs given the First Lady had forfeited her medical license. Abbey herself might have been bound by such legal constraints but she was still a physician first and foremost and they all knew she would rather deal with any consequences than see Sam die because of her inaction. And right then and there, Josh couldn't have cared less if she had found her medical degree in a cereal box; she was taking charge with some semblance of confidence and that was all that mattered to him.

It was at that moment, Charlie led two EMTs along with their equipment and stretcher into the Oval Office. It was easy to see how hard it was for Abigail to grudgingly back off and allow them to tend to Sam but ever the professional, she did give them a run-down of his assumed condition and his vitals. Most of it went over Josh's head; all he was concerned about was his best friend who had now been transferred onto the stretcher and hooked up to an IV and portable ventilator, much to CJ's relief.

The entire senior staff, including the President and his entourage of agents, followed the stretcher all the way outside to the waiting ambulance. The EMTs had given permission for Doctor Bartlet to accompany them in the ambulance and while part of Josh wanted to argue that as Sam's best friend *he* should be the one granted the privilege, he knew this way was better for his friend. Abbey could at least do something for Sam as opposed to staring dumbly at him in shock. It was still hard letting Sam out of his sight as they loaded him into the ambulance and the doors slamming shut after them.

The vehicle pulled away, its lights flashing and sirens blaring, and for once Josh did not flinch with his memories of Rosslyn. His mind was too intent on the present to linger on his past. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes for everything to fall apart in that office but to Josh, it seemed eternity.

CJ's hand on his arm jolted him out of his reverie. She squeezed gently, managing to force a faint smile. "We're going to follow on." Josh glanced to Toby, who was practically jumping from foot-to-foot anxious to make a move. "You coming?"

As if she really needed an answer.

*************************************

The little congregation almost jumped on the brunette doctor who entered the private waiting room over an hour after Sam had been brought in. By this time Josh, Toby and CJ, who had followed immediately after the ambulance, had been joined by President Bartlet himself, not to mention the multitude of Secret Service agents posted outside the door. Leo had reluctantly remained behind to field any problems but Bartlet had been adamant to come. After all, it was not every day a member of the White House senior staff collapsed at the feet of the President in the Oval Office not to mention it was not every day the President performed mouth-to-mouth on one of his staff. They were all determined to ensure Sam was going to recover as well as discern exactly what the hell had happened.

Doctor Bartlet followed a few paces behind the hospital doctor, looking stoic yet oddly almost saddened, and she moved to her husband's side apparently leaving much of the talking to her counterpart. If the young woman was in any way intimidated by her audience and their importance, she didn't show it.

She cleared her throat then focused a serious gaze to the impatient group. "I'm Doctor Jessica Waylin, the chief pulmonary specialist."

Josh couldn't remain quiet any longer. "How is Sam? Is he going to be okay?"

He just couldn't push the memory of Sam, blue and rasping desperately for oxygen, collapsing. Of how his lungs eventually failed him to the point where the First Lady was forced to shove a tube down his throat and was physically breathing for him in an effort to keep him with them. Josh was suddenly beginning to comprehend what it must have been like for Sam the previous year when it was he who had come so close to dying. Never again did he want to be so helpless as he watched his friend's life ebb away before his very eyes.

"Why don't we all sit down?" Waylin said, flashing a comforting smile to them.

Josh took the smile as a good sign, surely a doctor wouldn't be upbeat if she was about to break the news of her patient's d...No, he couldn't even say the 'd' word lest he tempt fate. He might have been a little sceptical of Toby's odd superstitions before but this was one time he would be willing to do anything if it meant Sam was given a better chance.

When everyone was seated, Waylin carefully regarded the six piercing gazes resolutely eyeing her back. "Okay, I don't know if you know by now but Sam suffers from asthma and what you all witnessed earlier was an acute asthma attack. Now, he has stabilized and began to make an effort to breathe for himself and his lungs have started to open up but we'll be keeping him on a ventilator until at least tomorrow morning when hopefully he'll be more awake and aware. Then maybe by tomorrow afternoon or evening, we can think about transferring out of ICU to a step-down room."

There was a universal sigh of relief throughout the room and everyone visibly released the tension clawing at them from the moment Sam had collapsed. Of course, it didn't last.

"He wasn't breathing," Toby stated. His voice turned hesitant. "Is there any chance of...brain damage?"

Josh paled and CJ bit her lip at this. How could Sam survive then not be *him*? Could they handle seeing the bright, spirited young man they knew and loved a shadow of his former self? Damn Toby for thinking to mention this new threat.

"I can't be one hundred percent certain until Sam regains consciousness but his reflexes are good and thanks to immediate treatment, he didn't go without oxygen for long so I'm cautiously going to say I think he'll be fine."

There it was again. The way in which she used Sam's first name rather than referring to him as the customary 'Mr Seaborn' and the tone of vague worry that belayed simple medical concern for a patient allowed Josh to suspiciously deduce Waylin knew Sam...Like she had met him before today. And why did he have the distinct feeling that meeting was in no way similar or simple as the call girl incident?

Evidently, the President had picked up on this too. "Doctor, have you met Sam before?"

Waylin seemed visibly conflicted, as if trying to decide whether to protect her patient's confidentiality and the realization she was speaking to the Leader of the Free World. It was Abigail Bartlet took the decision out of her hands.

"It seems Sam has been a guest here a number of times," the First Lady replied curtly, her lips pressed thin in displeasure, "occasions he has neglected to mention to anyone."

The younger doctor sighed, "Sam has been a regular patient of mine for five years, since he relocated to DC. Usually, I only see him on an out-patient basis to monitor and advise him on his asthma but..." She paused a moment, still uncertain of how much to reveal. Then, showing caution to the wind, she continued, "There have been a couple of occasions when he has had to be admitted due to debilitating asthma attacks."

"It's that bad?" Josh's voice was low, afraid to ask for fear of being pervaded by images of Sam suffering alone.

"It's moderate, from his records and what he told me, I know it did affect him quite chronically as a child. As he grew up, the intensity and frequency of the attacks have eased off slightly but when they do come, his condition can turn quite grave." She seemed exasperated now. "It certainly doesn't help that Sam isn't always known to take the best care of himself. Today needn't have been so bad if he'd at least had his reliever inhaler with him."

"When?" Toby finally spoke. His tone was cold but to those who knew him, it was just his way of attempting to cope with the situation in a mixture of consolation that his deputy would recover coupled with suppressed anger at the duplicity which brought him to this state in the first place.

"Excuse me?"

"When did he have these attacks?"

Waylin shifted uncomfortably, and the Deputy Chief of Staff had the feeling she regretted mentioning the previous asthma attacks and having someone as difficult as Sam as a patient. Nevertheless, whatever pity he might have felt for her was muted by his own interest in this particular question.

"The last rather bad one was on Boxing Day last year." She frowned at Josh's gasp but carried on. "It wasn't as bad as this one, he came in on his own with severe wheezing but a night with a nebulizer settled it."

"And you didn't think to call anyone?" Bartlet asked, incredulously.

*You didn't think to call me,* Josh forlornly thought.

It hurt to think of his closest friend lying in the hospital. He might have had his own problems over the festive season when his PTSD came to a head but that didn't mean he wanted Sam suffering on his own without his friends' support. And, in turn, he wondered if he had precipitated the asthma attack. Had the bottled up stress of watching Josh self-implode affect Sam's asthma? Did he feel that he had to protect Josh from his illness resulting in him coping with an attack on his own rather than call his friend for help? He did take his responsibilities to his friends to a whole new level.

"Sam was adamant that no-one know, we pressed the issue but we do have a duty to respect our patients' wishes, especially when that patient is a lawyer."

Abbey raised an eyebrow. "He threatened you?"

"No, not exactly but he does know all the medicalese. He knows what we can and can't do, and he does make sure we know it too."

"We were hardly going to splash this across the 'Enquirer'," CJ pointed out. "Couldn't you have made him see sense? He almost died today and we didn't even know what was wrong."

"Now you see what I have to deal with. I've tried to tell Sam for the past five years he's been my patient that it's in his best interests to tell his co-workers about his asthma so they could be prepared if he had an attack. But Sam is stubborn and insists he knows best," the physician snorted, "I can see why he makes a good politician."

"Okay, but I have his medical power of attorney," Josh said, hotly. "I thought you guys kinda have an obligation to inform me when my best friend is lying unconscious in some ICU."

"And if he had lost consciousness, believe me we would have." Waylin inhaled deeply, lowering her voice to convey she was on their side when it came to this matter. "Only Sam made damned sure he remained conscious, oh he struggled but he won the fight although I think it had less to do with his own recovery and more to do with ensuring we kept our promise not to call anyone. He can be quite determined when he wants. If he put half as much energy into managing the asthma, he probably wouldn't be here today. Instead, his appointments have tapered off, he doesn't seem to carry his reliever inhaler, I doubt if he checks his peak flow once a week let alone once a day...The way he was going, this attack was inevitable and if Sam keeps this up, he risks permanent damage to his lungs."

A hush enveloped the room at the realization that Sam had kept this a secret to the point where he was skirting the edge of harming himself. It was Josh who broke the silence with the question burning in everyone's minds.

"Can we see Sam now?"

"Yes, I can take you up. You can look in on him but that's all for now." When Josh and Toby simultaneously opened their mouths to complain, the doctor quickly headed them off. "Sam's unconscious and I'd like to keep it that way. It seems that's the only way he'll rest and if he comes to, he'll waste energy between planning his escape and putting on a show for you. I know you don't ask him to, and obviously you need to talk to him about this, however just now Sam needs to rest more than he needs a good bawling out. There'll be plenty of time for that later."

Mollified for now, the group followed her to the lift and up to the fourth floor. Unlike the hustle and bustle of the ER, the atmosphere in the intensive care floor was quiet and orderly. Immediately, Josh felt uneasy with the familiarity of the oppressive environment, too many memories of his own lengthy stint on the ward pervading his mind, yet he pushed himself on forcing himself to ignore haunting tranquillity. He would have walked over hot coals if it meant he could see Sam. CJ patted his arm in sympathy, guessing his thoughts.

Waylin came to a stop and inclined her head to the glass window looking into large cubicle where Sam lay oblivious to all the anguish he had caused. Despite being still rather pale, there was a large improvement from the awful pallor of before. It was disconcerting to see the usually boisterous young man so quiet with tubes and wires encompassing his body with the worse being the plastic tube snaking from his mouth leading to the ventilator.

Nevertheless, seeing him now was a stark contrast to his previous pale and pinched features. If one could force oneself to ignore all the medical equipment then Sam seemed quite peaceful and vulnerable now, far younger than his thirty-two years.

"Oh God..." murmured Josh.

"Doctor, why are his hands tied down?" Toby asked warily.

It was only upon closer inspection the others did in fact noticed Sam's wrists were restrained to the safety rail of the bed with soft cotton strips. He might have been unconscious but his co-workers were justifiably horrified to see him secured to the bed like a prisoner.

"Sam doesn't take well to the tubes and monitors," Doctor Waylin explained with patience and understanding. "Some patients, when they're making the climb to full consciousness, they try to pull them out. The restraints are there for Sam's safety."

Toby just scowled. "Dammit!" He looked ready to do 'a Josh' and shove his hand through the window.

"He's going to be fine," CJ said, anticipating his darkening mood, "he'd better be, he had too much explaining to do."

"He will be fine," Abbey assured. "But things are going to change, whether I have to come over every day and force the inhaler down his throat."

Josh just grunted in acknowledgement, too focused on the silent form alone lying in the room and the fact the doctors had an insight on how Sam reacted to the medical tubing. He glanced sideways when he saw the President usher Sam's doctor to the side and while he turned his attention back to his friend, he couldn't help but overhear the two talking despite their hushed tones.

"Abbey...? There may be repercussions," Bartlet said, in askance no doubt worried about the possible consequences for his wife and her earlier display of unauthorised medical intervention, especially if Waylin did not support what she did. There were too many petty bureaucrats in this world that might not be so willing to let this slide even if a man was saved thanks to her actions.

"I know, Mr President," Waylin said softly, "I also know that if it wasn't for her, Sam would have been dead by the time the ambulance arrived. If a bunch of dinosaurs on the medical committee can't see that then I'll make sure every physician and press agent from here to the moon does." She smirked faintly, regarding Abbey. "In this hospital, it really doesn't matter if she's the First Lady but she *is* a doctor who did right by a patient, and we doctors do protect our own. Trust me, if anyone is stupid enough to make an issue of this, Doctor Bartlet will have plenty of back-up."

If the situation was not so dismal, Josh would have spared a smile. He already liked this doctor who obviously cared deeply for the patients under her care and he could almost forgive her for not calling him when Sam had been previously brought into hospital. To her credit, Waylin appeared the type to have fought him tooth-and-nail when it came to the speechwriter's utterly absurd decision to go it all alone; it just so happened that she did not count on Sam's own unyielding obduracy.

The President further lowered his tone and Josh could barely hear the words, "Do you think Sam might have become so careless with his illness because of the way I handled my own condition?" It was clearly difficult for him to voice that question.

"No, sir," was his flat response. "Sam has been careless for the five years I've known him, your MS...I take it he only found out a few months ago." Now the physician sounded a little uncertain. "I do think that you need to perhaps emphasize that people don't collapse and die of MS if they miss their medication for days at a time, the same can't be said for asthma. Sam's not a child, he doesn't need coddling, he does need to able to tell people if he's not feeling so well. But don't worry, Samuel and I will be having words about this issue later."

"Yes," the President agreed, "I think Sam is due for a very long talk." Suddenly he sounded wearier than Josh had ever heard him. "'United we stand, divided we fall'- this has all gone on for long enough. We don't need Republicans to bring us down, we're doing a good job of destroying ourselves. It has to end now."

*************************************


After they had been evicted from the ICU by the combined forces of Doctors Bartlet and Waylin, Josh somehow found himself retreating to Sam's office instead of going back to his own. Slumping back in the chair behind the desk, he regarded his surroundings with a new hindsight. He remembered how in the first two years in term, he and Sam would often be in and out of each other's offices both for professional and companionable reasons. Somewhere along the line, particularly over the past six months, these visits began to taper off as they drifted apart.

And it was only now, as he took the time to consider it, did Josh realize he truly missed Sam. He missed his friend's innocent outlook, his passion at being a part of the 'Real Thing', his exuberant smile...He missed his best friend yet he hadn't noticed he had lost him.

He admitted he played a large role in increasingly isolating himself from Sam; he'd lied to his friend, repeatedly helped to keep him out of the loop on major decisions, and hidden his own problems from him. Looking back with hindsight, he could only wonder how hurt and alone Sam must have felt and how Josh would have felt if he had died today. They could have been preparing for a funeral today, Sam could so easily have been lying in the morgue rather than the ICU, and he would have died not knowing how much Josh valued their friendship even if he hadn't shown it recently.

Instead, he had been given a second chance to amend things. They had all been given a chance...himself, Toby, Leo. Today had showed them life was to fragile to become complacent with those around you. Like the President, each had wondered if recent events had led to Sam's duplicity over his asthma status, that maybe he felt they didn't trust him so he shouldn't entrust them with the truth either. First there was Josh turning away from everyone eventually leading to his outburst in the Oval, Toby and his infamous drop-in and most significant of all, Sam being the last to learn of Bartlet's MS. So many secrets and lies festering away, no wonder Sam kept his own counsel.

Sometimes he hated this job for what it did to good people.

Nevertheless, Sam was by no means an innocent in all this. He had ten years to tell Josh that he was an asthmatic, the first seven of which they did not have the added stress of managing the country on their shoulders. It was cutting to know your best friend could not tell you he was sick and had been sick since he was a small child.

Josh would have readily ran interference if Sam didn't want to let anyone else in. Why the hell couldn't he have just said something to the man who had known him since college? Did he think Josh would think any less of him or something equally ludicrous? Instead, Sam had ploughed on regardless of the consequences, regardless of what losing him would do to his friends. Josh could remember a number of times the other man had the flu, which often seemed to move to his chest, and when he accepted aspirins as a remedy to an annoying headache if no Tylenol was available. Sam had literally opened himself up to an attack like he had some kind of death-wish.

Asthma need not have been so serious had the young deputy did what he was told by his doctor. As it was, he had turned a manageable condition into a very real threat to his life by missing medication, skipping hospital appointments and generally being careless. He had nearly died at Christmas time but still managed to drag himself back to work a few days later with no-one keeping an eye on him, no doubt in his mind he had already decided to keep the asthma attack a secret because of Josh's problems.

How did it come to this- Josh smashing windows with his hands and Sam lying sick in hospital yet both staying quiet until their problems were just an explosions waiting to happen?

Yet, it wasn't only from the senior staff did Sam hide his asthma from. When Josh phoned Sam's sister, he found that while she knew of his condition her younger brother had never informed her of his recent asthma attacks despite promising he would. In fact, she had been quite pissed when she wrangled all the details from a more than willing Josh, who did so both out of concern to ease her worries and because that Stephanie Seaborn-Croft was a paediatrician every bit as formidable as the First Lady when it came to health matters.

Stephanie had been all set to fly from her California home to DC so she could 'deal' with her brother and his little web of deceit. And as much as Josh's protective instincts had been invoked by Sam's illness, part of him would rather have enjoyed seeing Sam being reamed out for his stupidity. However, he managed to dissuade the elder Seaborn when he realized this was something Sam's surrogate family, the Senior Staff, had to sort out with him. For the President was right in one regard...

How could they be responsible for running the country when they spent much of their energy keeping secrets from one another?

Josh sighed, jingling the Medi-Alert bracelet he had found in Sam's little hideaway drawer along with that unfilled prescription. He hadn't really been snooping, Sam must have been in a hurry when he left for the meeting that morning and left the drawer unlocked and half open. With all that had occurred earlier, Josh couldn't help but be curious as to what the speechwriter was being keeping there, especially when he caught a glimpse of an inhaler.

The medication was not all he found. Under the piles of newspaper clippings and speech notes, there was a framed photograph of four beautiful, raven-haired children smiling for the camera. The youngest of the children, an adorable little boy of no more than five, had the bluest eyes and there was no denying Josh was looking at a little Sam. He guessed the young girl was Sam's elder sister Stephanie while the two older boys, one aged around twelve and the other slightly younger, had to be his brother Nick and perhaps a cousin. It was a nice photograph, Josh just couldn't figure what it was doing in the drawer when Sam usually displayed his photos on the shelf.

However, the puzzle was secondary to the two offers of professorship to Princeton and Yale. This was not worrying in itself; what Josh was concerned about was the fact the former had a half-completed letter attached to it dating back to the week after the BSE palaver.

It shocked him to realize Sam must have been so disillusioned he had juggled with the issue of quitting.

It made also him consider not just what else had the speechwriter kept from him, rather *why* Sam was so possessively secretive and how he managed to conceal this side of his personality from the very people who were meant to be his closest friends. They had always assumed he was this open, guileless guy and now he had shown he was quite adept at closing himself if he chose to.

Things had to change in the West Wing; Sam had to learn to trust them again. He had to trust *him* again. Maybe Josh was not always sympathetic or supportive but he never wanted Sam to feel he was a burden.

"What's that?"

He jerked in the chair to find Toby studying him from the doorway and it took him a moment to realise he was referring to the bracelet. "Oh, it's one of those medical bracelets. Y'know, tells you what medical problems or allergies the person has."

The older man moved further into the office, scanning the contents on Sam's bottom drawer, which were now strewn across his normally tidy desk courtesy of Josh. He shook his head slightly as he lightly touched the empty pill bottle and prescription. "I've never seen Sam wearing it."

"No, that's because I don't think it's seen the outside of this drawer." Toby just grunted, evidently not surprised. "He should have told us, Toby, he should have said something." Josh continued to twirl the bracelet around, his movements harsher now. "I gave him some aspirin the other day, asthmatics shouldn't take those...I could have murdered him and he would have let me."

"That would have been suicide, Josh, not murder."

Josh scowled in disgust. "This isn't funny, it's not a joke."

"No, no, it's not." Toby sighed heavily, dropping into the chair opposite. He rubbed his face before leaning forward. "Sam knew what he was doing, he deliberately spent the past five years hiding this from us. He did this to himself...and we did it to him by not making ourselves more accessible to him."

Blinking in astonishment as the guilt carried in Toby's voice, Josh floundered for words. Sometimes, they forgot no matter how harsh the Communications Director was with everyone, he did care for his deputy.

"I'm meant to be his best friend, some friend I am that he can hide this from me for *ten* damned years. I watched Sam take pills, seen simple colds knock him for six and still I thought he was like some kind of poster boy for health. Shows how much I know about him."

"You know, he said the exact same thing at Christmas."

"Wha..." He wasn't sure he wanted to speak about that incident yet he had to hear Sam did not blame himself for Josh's PTSD. He hadn't really talked it over with Sam, partly because he wanted to protect him but mostly because he wanted to forget it ever happened. Now look where denial had taken them? Well, not any more. "What did you tell him?" Even as he spoke, he found he couldn't look Toby in the eye.

"I told me when someone wants to hide something, they will."

They pondered over the logic of the advice for a moment; no doubt Toby had never considered Sam himself was doing a little hiding of his own.

Josh gazed up. "What are we gonna do?"

Their eyes met, a steely glint in Toby's dark eyes. "I don't intend to lose him, not to our own mistakes and certainly not to something like asthma. He's going to change, and we're going to change with him. We're going to change."

"We're going to change," echoed Josh, his voice gaining more confidence.

Both men knew they were not going to do any work that day, how could they when Sam was lying in hospital? Together, they locked up the deputy's office and quietly left for the hospital. Toby never noticed Josh quietly taking the bracelet, tucking it safely in his coat pocket.

*************************************


Jed had allowed Sam time, given him a full two days to regain his equilibrium. He purposely chose not to visit his deputy speechwriter too soon, not wanting the younger man to waste his energy in an attempt to feign health. On the other hand, Bartlet didn't want to allow him too much time in which his defences would be back up and it would be like speaking to a brick wall, albeit a deceptively innocent, agreeable brick wall.

Since been transferred from the ICU to a private room the previous day, the stubborn young staffer was already griping to be released from the hospital. The President's discreet reports courtesy of Josh, Toby, CJ and Leo informed him that he was also beginning to downplay his asthma in the hopes they would leave it be. Of course, his hopes were in vain although this insight did help Jed to see the moment had arrived. It was now time they all had a little chat.

Not seeking to actively intimidate Sam, it was decided only Toby and Josh would accompany him on this visit. Leo and CJ had been assured they could punish his youngest staff member to their hearts' content when he returned to work and his wife seemed very satisfied with herself so Bartlet could only guess she had her own plans for him. The poor boy was in for a hard time when he was allowed back to the White House.

For his part, the President felt he needed to be here today to ensure his own decisions were not unduly influencing the way Sam was operating. Doctor Waylin was right, Sam was not some impressionable child but they often forgot he was young and not as experienced in the political arena as the others. What he didn't know for himself, he would pick up from those around him and it seemed he had learned his lessons a little too well...

According to Josh, Sam had been mortified not just by his collapse but by the subsequent mouth-to-mouth the President had performed. Jed did not want him to be embarrassed, he wanted him to trust those around him. Sometimes, they would be the only ones he could turn to. Sam would one day be in his position and it was his duty to ensure his young protégé would not make the same mistakes as he. By teaching him now, Bartlet could save Sam, his future staff and family any possible grief this generation had recently been through.

It was more than that. In his own college days, Bartlet had watched a good friend, also an asthmatic, die suddenly at the tragically young age of twenty-five of his condition. The asthma attack had been largely due to neglecting to take medication because, like Sam, he was a firm believer in the philosophy 'ignore it and it will disappear'. All his friend received for burying his head in the sand was a grave and a grieving family.

He wasn't going to allow Sam to suffer the same senseless fate.

He hadn't taken this job so he could bury the people who so loyally served him. It was difficult enough losing Mrs Landingham but at least it could be said she'd lived a good life and she was now with her beloved sons. Sam, on the other had, still had so many achievements and dreams awaiting him in the future. Jed wasn't sure if his staff could recover from losing their resident kid brother, the baby of the Senior Staff.

As the trio approached Sam's room, they could hear him talking to woman and it took them a moment to realize he was speaking to her over the speaker phone. Josh was about to knock politely on the ajar door but his movements stilled as they all heard what Sam was discussing with his friend.

"It was not a big deal, Stephy," Sam said, with a light whine to his voice.

"Not a big deal?!" the woman, evidently named Stephy, retorted over the line. Bartlet had heard Josh mention he had called Sam's sister after the incident and recalled her name was Stephanie. Was this who Sam was talking to now? It would explain why she was in the position to give him the scolding she was currently berating him with. And from her disgust and anger, it sounded as if this young woman was very much on the same wavelength as his wife. "Do you have any clue how lucky you are? If the First Lady was not a doctor, if she wasn't there, they would have been bringing you home in a mahogany box or worse, you could have been left with brain damage. Although at the moment I beginning to wonder if that isn't the case."

Bartlet glanced at Josh and Toby and he could see, like him, they were not in the least guilty at eavesdropping into this private conversation. It would be interesting to hear what the kid had to say when he thought he was unobserved and to compare it with whatever excuses he would come out with when he was with them.

"I can't believe Josh called you."

"And I can't believe you never told me about the other attacks. Do you know what it's like to know while I was enjoying Christmas, my baby brother was dying on the other side of the continent?"

"That is an exaggeration, I wasn't exactly dying."

His sister ignored him. "I imagine the shock of finding out about your little festive adventure mirrors how your friends felt when they learnt you had asthma by watching you collapse in front of them. Y'know, out of them all I don't get how Josh in the very least never knew about any of this. I can understand you not wanting to take a page out in 'The Post' but he has known you for years and you didn't think to tell him about the asthma."

Josh leaned closer to the door, eager for Sam's response. He shrank back in disappointment when there was only a mumbled 'I dunno'. Bartlet couldn't help but smile inwardly at how belligerent and sullen Sam sounded at his sister's interrogation. He sounded like a typical little brother and it was rare to hear the normally articulate, solemn speechwriter sounding so much the petulant adolescent.

"I *was* going to tell them, there never was a good opportunity."

"I would have thought you being in hospital last December would have been an excellent opportunity!" Abruptly, Stephanie Seaborn's tone softened midway in her lecture. "Oh Sammy, I know it's easy to fall back on what we were taught as kids but this isn't what Mom and Dad meant to happen." Bartlet wondered what she meant by this since he didn't think any sane parent would encourage their child to ignore a serious illness such as asthma. The thought was instantly abandoned in anguish at the young woman's next words. "Nicky is blaming this all on the whole MS mess with the President and being surrounded by sleazy lying politicians twenty-four/seven."

"You told Nick? You know what he's like..." There was a heavy sigh. "This has nothing to do with the President, I...I just wanted to get on with things."

It was an echo of Jed's own excuse when Leo asked why he didn't tell him, his best friend, about his MS. Unfortunately, neither of them could really 'get on with things' for ironic as it was, by ignoring their respective conditions they were moreso inviting flare ups to disrupt their lives.

Hearing enough, Bartlet pushed past Josh, who practically had his ear to the door, and knocked curtly to warn Sam of their presence before entering the private room. Sam blinked in surprise, no doubt not expecting a visit from the President, but recovered quickly, sitting straighter in the bed and attempting to appear his usual self. It was quite a feat considering he was in a hospital bed dressed in blue pyjamas and still attached to an IV and heart monitor.

Sam smirked mischievously at the phone on the bedside table. "Stephy, I have to go. The President has just arrived."

There was silence on the other end before his sister snorted in amusement. "Yeah, right, if you wanted to get rid of me then you need to work on those excuses. I'll let you off for now but we'll be talking more later. And remember, don't get any ideas about signing yourself out AMA or I'll be kicking some A-S-S and don't think the three thousands miles between us will stop me, baby brother."

Oh yeah, Abigail would love this girl.

"Oh, I don't ever doubt your abilities, Steph," Sam sighed, flushing slightly. The President had the feeling his embarrassment had less to do with his sister bullying him in front of his friends and more to do with his little escape plan being foiled.

"Okay, love ya, kid."

When the phone line clicked off, Sam sobered and turned his full attention to his visitors. "Mr President, Josh, Toby, it's good to see you. Uh, please have a seat."

Under Sam's apprehensive gaze, Bartlet and Toby sat down in the hard, uncomfortable chairs near the bed while Josh chose to hover and play with something he had in his jacket pocket.

"How are you feeling, Sam?" Jed asked, deciding to jump in before an awkward silence could develop.

"I'm fine, Sir. I, uh, I would like to thank you for what you did the other day with the CPR..."

"That's quite alright," the President assured, "you had us all worried, you know?"

"I'm sorry," the young man murmured, unable to meet his visitors' eyes, especially the accusing glares of Josh and Toby.

"Was that your sister on the phone?" Toby spoke up.

"Yes, Stephanie thinks she needs to check up on me." Sam scowled at Josh. "You called my sister?"

"Yeah, so?" Josh replied, daring him to say more.

He wisely shrugged, realising it was not a good idea to force the issue. "Nothing, just wondering." When Josh jiggled whatever he was playing with in his pocket, Sam seemed to think it was a chance to change the subject. "What have you got?" His face fell when the Deputy Chief of Staff pulled out a silver bracelet and held it up. "Oh..."

"Is that all you're gonna say?"

"What is it?" Bartlet asked, aware it was more than just a piece of jewellery.

Toby raised an eyebrow at his deputy "Sam? You wanna take that?" There was no reply other than squirming from the bed. "This, Mr President, is a bit like an adviser. If the wearer gets sick- like let's just take, for example, collapses in The Oval Office- this advises surrounding on-lookers, like worried sick friends, on what to do. Only, for it to be successful it actually has to be worn!" His voice grew louder with each word until he was practically shouting at the end of his little tirade.

"It's a Medi-Alert bracelet, Mr President," Sam said in a barely audibly, his voice a contrast his superior's.

"Aah, I see...I don't believe I've ever seen you wear it, Sam. Don't you think it's important for people to know what's wrong when you have an asthma attack?"

"It's only asthma," was the reluctant reply, "It really isn't a big deal, Sir."

"'Only' asthma?!" Josh exclaimed in the same incredulous tones of Sam's sister. "You could have died of 'only' asthma and that makes it a very big deal."

"You made it a 'big deal', Sam," Toby jumped in, "when you kept it a secret and nearly died because of that. If you had at least taken care of it, it wouldn't have been so bad. You don't even carry your damn medication. Three days ago, it wouldn't have been 'only' asthma that would have killed you, it would have been carelessness and unnecessary secrecy."

From the sidelines, Bartlet watched Toby and Josh rant on and on. This was not the way to do this; the kid was already shutting himself off from their anger only the other two were too involved in their own indignation to see.

"I'm sorry."

There was sudden silence at Jed's whispered yet equally heartfelt apology. Toby and Josh were literally lost for words, their moans forgotten. The President gazed at Sam, who was studiously avoiding looking at him.

"I'm sorry that I lied to you about my MS, that I made you feel like I didn't trust you. And I'm sorry that I made you feel that it was acceptable to lie to your friends, your family."

Meeting his commander-in-chief's eyes, Sam shook his head. "No, Mr President, this isn't your fault...I just wanted to deal with this myself. It dominated my life and my parents enough as a kid."

"Is that why you never said anything last December?" Josh asked.

For a long moment, it looked like Sam was not going to answer then he sighed. "Things got so bad...I just didn't want to make things worse for you, I didn't want to ruin any progress you made."

Josh opened his mouth to retort something, Bartlet guessed it would go somewhere along the lines of 'how would I have felt if you'd died?', but Toby spoke up first. "What about your family? Hell, what about of us? Didn't you think *we* would have wanted to know?"

"Stephy and Nick are as bad as our parents sometimes. As for you guys, Josh needed you more than I did." He must have noticed their collectively saddened expressions and tried to appease them. "I'm a big boy, I've been seeing to myself for some time now."

Disheartened as he was to hear this, that was not to say Bartlet did not understand where Sam was coming from. He reacted much the same when he was diagnosed with MS, pushing Abbey and his girls away. It took time to come to terms with his illness and, in turn, let his family in. It was a monumental mistake not to allow his senior staff- people he thought of as his second family- the same consideration but in the very least he did have the support of his wife and daughters. The same could not be said of Sam, who still seemed to be in some sort of perpetual denial and continued to push away everyone from his parents to his sister to his closest friends.

Of course, one did not reach presidency without developing an inner sense of people and Jed could feel this situation delved far deeper than Sam simply not wanting to be treated like a child. There was another reason, infinitely more significant and probably rooted long before he met them, which led the young man to believe this was the correct way to deal with his asthma. The President was a man who knew when to pick his battles and first his deputy had to learn to come to them with his problems.

Maybe it was time to fight fire with fire.

"I can understand, I used to think much like you do. Look where it got me; the administration is tarred, everyone was dragged to court, Abbey can't even do the job she loves...all because I had MS and lied about it."

Sam fidgeted, uncomfortably, as if he was trying to block it all out. "Sir, no offence but asthma is hardly on the same scale as MS."

It was true, Jed would give him that. Someone mentions MS and everyone is in a panic with images of wheelchairs and hospices conjured up in the mind whereas asthma was so common nowadays, it was easier to forget- and deny- it was a serious problem. It's only until you watch a loved one in the throes of an attack struggling in the simple act of breathing that you remember it can still so quickly swoop in for the kill.

"You're right, Sam, the difference is that when I have an attack of MS, it may be hell but I do recover fully. Yes, I may gradually deteriorate in time but that is the outcome of my illness. I don't like it, I would do anything to prevent it, but I can't so I've come to accept it in a way. That's why it makes me angry to hear you're putting yourself through trauma you needn't suffer, you're risking permanent damage to your lungs for nothing."

"You've all been speaking to Doctor Waylin," Sam said, in what was more of a statement than a question.

"Damn right we have," Josh shot back. "Because we've heard precious little from you."

"Josh-"

Josh cut him off. "No, don't. Is that what you want? To be connected to tubes and oxygen for the rest of your life, to be in some vegetative state 'cause that's what's going to happen if you don't start taking better care of yourself. If you don't let us help you." He sighed. "Next time we might not be having this conversation, we'll just be visiting you while you languish in a coma caused by oxygen deprivation. Then what? What will we do, what will your family do?"

Sam jolted slightly as if startled, and he glanced away with a frown. "I...I'm sorry." At that moment, he sounded for all the world like a little boy who had killed his puppy. Bartlet didn't think he'd ever heard him sound so vulnerable. "I guess I didn't think. I'm sorry."

Why did Jed feel like Sam was apologising more for his friends' feelings than disregarding his own health? Still, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, they were finally making some leeway and he wasn't going to let this opportunity slip away.

"It's okay, Sam, but what I need to know it why? Why did you ignore the asthma? Why did you not keep up with your medication? Your doctor said this needn't have gotten so bad and I'm sure you don't need me rattling off the statistics of asthma-related deaths for the past decade because I can do that if it would help you see sense."

There was a faint smile. "No, you don't need to do that, Sir." His voice sobered. "There just wasn't always time, I have more important things to do."

"More important than your health?" Toby quizzed. At his deputy's shrug, the older man sighed. "God, Sam, I know we don't always make it clear but nothing is more important than your life. Nothing. We'll find time for your medication, we'll *make* time if we have to. You're not going to damage yourself because of us."

"I'm not damaging myself, Toby."

Josh spoke for all of them when he said, "Try saying that when you're not stuck in hospital looking like the Walking Dead. It'll come off more convincing." He studied his best friend solemnly. "Why did you never tell us about the asthma? Why didn't you tell *me*? We've known each other for years...And don't say 'it was no big deal' because that excuse isn't going to cut it."

"I don't know." Sam spoke softly, regarding each of them carefully. "You really don't know what it was like when I was a kid, it didn't help I was the youngest, that my..." He sounded as if he was going to confess something before his voice trailed off. "I've spent twenty years getting away from my parents' overbearing attitude, their watching my every move afraid something would trigger another attack. I didn't want to go through that again, not now."

At last, there it was- the truth. Bartlet knew there was more to this, more than just a case of parents hovering over their sickly child. It was on the tip of Sam's tongue to let it all out, it was like he was carrying a burden he wanted to share yet something held him back. The President wanted to push further only he didn't want Sam to close himself off and he was afraid he would if he forced his deputy to say more than he was ready to.

However, obviously, Sam hadn't quite learnt secrets don't stay secret for long when you work at the White House and he just hoped whatever his deputy felt he still had to conceal was not on the same emotional charged level as the asthma.

"We're not your parents," Bartlet said, after allowing Sam's words to sink in, "but we *are*, in many ways, a family. I know we don't always act like it...but it would hurt each of us very much if something was to happen to another. I want you to remember that and remember that when we're worried, you'll just have to bear with us especially after this incident. We'll try not to nag you but we do expect you to come to us when something is bothering you, whether it's your health or something work-related. Don't go it alone again, Sam, you shouldn't have to."

A lull hushed over the small hospital room before Sam nodded solemnly. "I'll try to remember that, sir," he smiled, his features brightening.

And they said he couldn't make a speech, Bartlet thought as his own eyes twinkling in response to the young man's more cheerful mood.

Josh and Toby had backed down from their offensive, reassured that the President's sermon had sunken in to Sam's obstinacy and he would take heed of the words. For all the great deeds they had accomplished for the country, for all they were uniquely capable of doing, Jed couldn't help notice in mild amusement that 'the kids' all still needed a little guidance from time to time and that's what he and Leo were there for.

However, the President could see in Josh's dark eyes he was not entirely convinced, obviously able to tell Sam was not being one hundred percent honest with them.

Josh studied his best friend carefully for a long few seconds then seemed to let the matter go. "Hey, I got a present for you." he grinned in boyish mischief.

Sam's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Oh yeah?" When Josh held up the Medi-Alert bracelet, he groaned. "I'm not wearing that thing, I don't know why Stephy got the damned thing in the first place."

"Could it be because she knew you're as capable of taking care of yourself as a first grader?" Toby couldn't resist replying.

"You know," the President intoned, finding it difficult to suppress a fiendish smile, "I would hate to be in your shoes if my wife finds out you're not wearing your bracelet. She can be very passionate about such matters." Sometimes, all his people needed was a little persuasion to see things his way.

"But, Mr President, the First Lady doesn't know about it..."

"We *do* work in the White House, Sam, nothing is kept a secret for long."

Sam might have found it a little disconcerting to witness three of the most powerful men in the country smirking like smug schoolboys if he wasn't so resigned to their implied threat. The kid wasn't stupid , he no doubt knew Abbey planned to take him to ground for his carelessness and he no intention of further inciting her wrath. With a much put-upon sigh, he held out his arm and Josh clicked the silver bracelet onto his wrist where it belonged.

*************************************


"Have you taken your medication?"

There was a heavy sigh. "Yes, *Mom*."

Toby just snorted, not in the least apologetic for his question, before retreating back to his own office. Sam knew he had a right to be a little irritated between Toby and Josh's regular interrogations and the First Lady's almost daily visits to his office to actually watch him check his peak-flow (she had even brought him a colourful chart adorned with Pokemon characters for him to record his results) and take his medication. He didn't think she was really allowed to do that after forfeiting her medical license but he wasn't going to be that one to tell her and he certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell Josh and Toby to back off. He valued his life too much for that.

Nonetheless, he had to admit things were starting to change in the West Wing; the tense atmosphere of the previous year was draining back into the almost pleasant comradé of before. Sure, there were still bad days but now at least the other senior staff seemed to remember he had a part to play with them and were including him in the majority of matters again. He no longer felt his job contract was covered by the term 'block of cheese'.

That being said, if he had it to do over Sam would never have allowed for them to find out about his asthma. He knew his near-death had frightened the others, reminding them of his role in their lives and forcing them to change their ways, but still they didn't understand why his asthma was so severe between those two years in his childhood and why it's continued presence was a haunting bane in his life that affected far more than his health. He knew if his friends were to ever know the truth the aftermath would, to them, probably be equal to the harrowing news of the President's MS.

Sam unlocked his bottom drawer and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. Tentatively touching glass of the framed photograph of the four happy, blissfully innocent children gazing back at him, he wondered what Josh had thought when he had found the picture during his little snoop-fest a few weeks ago. He was eternally grateful his friend would never know what the photo meant to Sam for it would hurt Josh far more than anyone else.

"Hey, there's a meeting in the Oval." Slamming the drawer shut in fright, Sam jerked up to find Josh standing by his doorway watching him. The older man regarded him knowingly. "Sam, are you okay?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."

No, it was better this way. Some things were just too horrifying to share.

THE END

Okay, I hope you enjoyed what was my first attempt at TWW fan fiction. In case you haven't noticed, I tend to veer towards Sam-torture fiction or ESF and while I know Sam is leaving the show soon because we're still only finishing up the third season, I'm just going to pretend he is forever a permanent member of the cast (ignorance *is* bliss)! Also, as for the ambiguous ending, I am considering writing a sequel about why Sam would be so secretive over asthma and what role the photo has in it. Anyway, please feel free to send me any feedback about this or any of my other stories, I would be very grateful if you did.