Author Note: So sorry about the delay. I now officially have a bachelor's degree – strange. Also, apologies for the cliffhanger.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"I really don't think you understand, doctor," Josh seethed. "My baby girl is lying unconscious on the floor of the locker room and you're telling me that I can't be in there with her? That's ridiculous!"

"Mr. Lyman," Dr. Bristow, the highly trained sports physician overseeing the swimming venue, was struggling to keep his patience, "I assure you that we have the best team of doctors working with Drea right now. I was requested to keep all non-medical personnel out of the locker room. It's a small space, sir, and there's really nothing you can do."

It had been five minutes since the medical staff began paging Josh and CJ. Racing down to the trainer's station, they met Woody, who was as equally confused and frantic as they were. After the three were quickly briefed by the head physician on staff, Woody had gone to the judges table to implore them to postpone Drea's race until the reason for her collapse could be determined. The judges had done better than that; they had ordered all swimming events to cease until the mystery was cleared up.

CJ had been trying to control Josh, but to no avail. After terrorizing every person who crossed his path, Josh had finally pushed his way through the barricade outside the locker room only to come face to face with Dr. Bristow.

Firmly grabbing his shoulder, CJ forced her husband back to his seat. "Joshua, if you don't start to behave yourself right now, so help me God, you'll live to regret it. You are being of no help to Drea when you're like this. Let the doctors do their job. Sit down and shut up."

Casting his fiery glare onto CJ, Josh saw that he had met his match. Breathing deeply and staring intently at CJ for a few moments, he dropped her hand and stalked in the opposite direction from the locker room.

"Mrs. Lyman?" Dr. Bristow said tentatively.

CJ forced all of her attention in his direction, "Yes?"

"What I was afraid to tell Mr. Lyman was that this was in Drea's hand," he said quickly, forcing a yellow piece of paper into CJ's hands. Quickly turning, he retreated back into the locker room.

In a daze, CJ made her way back to her seat and slowly unfolded the letter.

"Mom and Dad,

Seriously, I never thought it would come to this. And I'm so sorry I'm disappointing you. I'm sorry you'll never have your medals or the glory that you expected me to bring to the family. I love you, but I can't carry on this façade any more.

I hate swimming. I hate it with the holiest of passions. Chlorine makes me gag and the thought of exerting any energy just to swim a lap of a pool makes me nauseous.

I don't know what makes me happy anymore. I thought acting would, and I was willing to give it a shot, but after all of our conversations over the past few days, I knew that it would never happen. Even if I did achieve some sort of success as an actress, Dad would still be there, ever my shadow.

I am going to be 14 in two months and I have no friends under the age of forty. Does that seem a little ridiculous to anyone else?

Dad, you stopped talking about Mother so long ago that I don't feel I even know her. Maybe now I'll get the chance.

I love you both and I'll miss you.

I'm sorry. I just wanted you to be proud of me, not of the me you created.

Drea"

CJ felt the letter slip from her hand as the sobs began to rack her body. She committed suicide. My precious Rebecca Andrea Lyman, who has been my daughter since the day she was born, committed suicide. What went wrong?

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"Jed, get in here!" Abbey Bartlet screamed to her husband.

"What?" the former President stumbled into the living room.

"Shh," Abbey scolded, him, violently gesturing towards the television.

"We've just received reports," the television news anchor informed his viewers, "that 13-year-old Olympian Rebecca Lyman has collapsed in the locker room of the swimming venue. It is unknown at this time the cause of the accident, but Rebecca has been declared in critical condition at the Olympic Village Hospital, where she is still unconscious. We're going to take you now to our own Daniel Anderson, who is standing outside the Hospital. Daniel?"

The television was forgotten as Dr. Bartlet flew into action. "Jed, call the travel agent and get us on the next plane to Rome. I'll call everyone I know and try to fine out anything – "

Not intentionally, Jed began to drown his wife's ramblings out. What do they mean she collapsed? She should be standing on a podium right now with a medal around her neck, listening to the National Anthem. What do they mean she collapsed?

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"What?"

Toby Ziegler almost dropped the phone.

"She's what?"

Glancing down at the papers carpeting his desk, he tried to process all that Sam was telling him over the phone.

"I don't understand. She just collapsed?"

Leaning back in his chair, Toby let the words of his frantic friend flow over him.

"Are we all going?"

Nodding, he fought the tears that were creeping into the corners of his eyes. Not Drea. No way.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. You leave without me and I'll chain you to a pole in a crawl space, you hear me?"

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"OK, the tuna salad that we had for dinner last night is on the bottom shelf and there's more of that bread that you like in the freezer. I was at Wegman's today and I picked up some more juice, so Allison should be good for a while. Please don't forget to take your Prilosec; you know you'll have horrible heartburn if you don't, or any of your other vitamins for that matter – "

"Donna –"

" – I should only be gone for a few days, are you sure you're going to be ok?" Donna looked nervously at her husband, who was wearing quite a bemused expression.

Jack Patterson wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her one last time, "Donnatella, go be with your family. Don't come back until Drea, Josh and CJ are back to normal. Allison and I will do fine without you, except for missing you terribly, but you better scoot!" Giving her a playful slap on the backside to shove her out the door, Jack hoisted her luggage over his shoulder and placed it in the car that would provide Donna's ride to the airport. She would fly to Dulles, where she would meet up with the other former members of the Senior Staff and Bartlet family. Due to Ellie's connections to the President, President Herington had graciously offered a government airplane as transportation to Italy.

Dear Lord, if this girl doesn't recover, I swear the world will end, he thought to himself and he watched his fearful wife pull out of the driveway. At least mine will.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Why is it that we always meet around hospital beds?

The first time, we were surrounding Josh and Jed. Then it was Drea. Then Sam had that horrific bought with pneumonia right after he and Melissa were married and we all schlepped to San Antonio to make sure he was ok. After that, Jed had that really bad attack and we found ourselves in New Hampshire, making sure that Abbey took her Valium.

We gather for weddings, too, but there have only been three of those since the end of the administration. There have been other significant events that we've all gotten together for, but never like we do when one of our own is down.

She's thirteen for the love of St. Peter. When I was thirteen, my biggest problem was avoiding Jed's dad. Drea's problems overwhelmed her so heavily that she felt the need to force herself into diabetic shock.

She's actually done it a few times before; eaten things she's not supposed to, I mean. M&M's seem to be her weakness. I'm sure that Josh and CJ would have thought nothing of it if it hadn't been for the note.

Dear God, the note.

I've been through some pretty serious shit in my life, but it's never been that bad. My marriage collapsed, I nearly ruined the lives of everyone close to me, I alienated my daughter, I helped run a government inebriated, not to mention the eight years of hell I suffered as Chief of Staff, but it's never been bad enough to write a note explaining to my parents why my life sucked so I was getting it over with.

I just don't understand how we didn't know. We're a perceptive bunch, especially Toby. Josh and CJ aren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed sometimes, especially when they get caught up in each other, but never when it comes to Drea.

I just don't understand.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"Josh, Drea tired to commit suicide."

My wife's words have been dancing around in my head for hours now. I've read her note so many times, I have it memorized. I can't even begin to process what she meant by "I just wanted you to be proud of me, not of the me you created." What the hell is that supposed to mean?

CJ's always said that Drea's a drama queen; she gets it from her father.

None of her note made any sense to me, so I questioned her true mother last evening. I had no idea CJ had that much pent up hostility towards me.

"Joshua!" She screamed at me, "What do you mean you have no idea what she's talking about! You've been smothering her for thirteen years!"

"Smothering?" I countered indignantly. "Is that what we're calling single-handedly raising a daughter these days?"

The eyebrow arched and I knew I was in for it. "Josh, when was the last time you asked Drea what she wanted to do? Did you ask before you put her into training? No. You told Woody that you were going to, but no."

"I knew it was the best thing for her!"

"Bullshit, Josh." A pillow flew at my head. "You wanted your daughter to be famous."

That one hurt. "Where the hell did that one come from? My desire for Drea is always that she be happy. I had no idea that she wasn't."

"Because you didn't want to! She's been shooting warning signs at you for months now! You've been the ruler of her life since the day she was born. You never back off, you never let up. It's all Josh, Josh, Josh.
Are you even aware of the fact that Drea has no friends? Did it ever occur to you that having a former President, Chief of Staff, Communications Director and Deputy Communications director as her teachers might not be the most psychologically healthy thing for her? Seriously, Josh, do you have any idea the pressure that you've put your daughter under?"

And until that moment, I hadn't had any idea. It all hit me like a load of bricks. CJ and I went to bed without speaking last night and both rose early to race to the hospital.

There's been no change in Drea's condition. Since she hadn't taken her insulin all day, it didn't take long for her body to use the massive amount of sugar in the soda and candy, sending her pancreas into overdrive and causing massive diabetic shock. One of the other swimmers, a girl from Japan, noticed that Drea was having a seizure and ran to contact the medical staff. By the time they got there, it was too late. Drea was already unconscious and deep into a coma.

I'm not entirely sure if there's a quota for family suffering and we have to meet it or something, but I'm getting sick of this. Would it be too hard to let me go for a whole year without anything? Is that too much to ask?