Author Note: Man, your feedback is awesome, thank you so much.
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"Dear Rebecca," Josh read aloud to his groggy daughter. "You've never heard of me and I know that we'll probably never meet, but I needed to write you and tell you that I'm keeping you in my prayers. I've been a swimming coach for most of my adult life and was a competitive swimmer before that. Your quiet, humble manner has set such an example to competitors everywhere. I wish you much health and best of luck in the future. Madeline O'Connor."
"She's nice," Drea croaked out.
"Do you want to write her a thank you?" Donna offered from the corner.
"Maybe later," Drea's eyes slipped shut once again. CJ nodded to Donna, who herded Drea's various admirers out of the room with promises to come back once she had rested.
"Motor Mouse?" Josh reached for his daughter's hand.
"Mm?"
"Mom and I are going to get some coffee and then we'll be back. Have a nice nap. I love you sweetheart." Letting go of her hand, Josh found himself overwhelmingly grateful for the miracles of modern medicine.
As the door quietly clicked shut, Drea let herself slip off into a much-anticipated dream.
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The first night I had the dream, I was ten years old and had just come back from spending the weekend with Aunt Melissa and Uncle Sam. I couldn't explain it then and I can't explain it now.
I'm dressed in a dress straight out of the early 1900's. Corset and all. I get the feeling that I'm floating, but I'm walking around a carpeted hotel. It's very strange.
It's one of my favorite dreams, though, because something different happens to me every time. I'm always wearing the same dress, but that's the only constant. The first time, I was singing an aria from Mozart's Requiem. I thought I knew the meaning behind that; that's what my birth mother was singing when Dad met her. But the next time, I was dancing with this amazingly handsome man. It's strange, though, because I couldn't see his face. I just knew he was devastatingly handsome.
This time, it was the weirdest of all.
I was in the White House.
The Mural Room, to be exact, having tea with my friends.
First of all, I don't have any friends.
Second of all, what the heck am I doing in the White House wearing a dress like that?
I'm so confused.
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She asked for me.
Of all of the people sitting out in the waiting room, she asks for her economics teacher.
"Drea," I whisper. "It's me, Uncle Jed. I'm here."
She smiles weakly, "Thank you."
We sit for a few minutes and I can tell that she's struggling to open her eyes. "Drea, sweetie, I love you."
Her eyes make their way open and fix themselves right into mine. "Uncle Jed, I need you to explain something for me."
I nod and push my chair closer to her bed. "What?"
Swallowing and readjusting herself, she begins. "I've been having this dream."
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"But Abbey, she was in the Mural Room!"
I couldn't believe what my husband was telling me. Impossible. Either he or Drea were making it up.
"Jed, there's no way. There's no way that it's her."
"Abigail, we've got to make Josh let her do this!"
For about two years now, I've been at work with a few others writing a screenplay. It's finally finished and casting has begun. It's a musical set in the early 1900's about a girl named Danielle, who is mistakenly assumed to be the daughter of the French ambassador to the United States. We've been having a horrible time finding the right Danielle.
The most important scene of the film takes place in the Mural Room while Danielle is having tea with her new friends.
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There's a place everyone gets to that's known as the "breaking point." It's the point in their lives that they can't go on in their own strength. It's the point where they need their friends to come in a pick up the pieces.
In the case of Josh Lyman, he's had about ten.
It's something that we comment about a lot, I guess just because it's whom he's been for so long. Ever since that Christmas, we've all been on the lookout for signs of an attack. Donna took Felicity out one day and explained everything to her. No one ever had to tell Drea, but she's the best shield he has against it.
I think that's subconsciously why he's insisted on controlling her life. And she's so concerned about being that shield that she's cooperated with everything that he's said.
The problem is that we all forgot that she's thirteen.
Oh, Drea, forgive us.
The Olympic Committee postponed Drea's three races until today; the final day of competition. Let me tell you, it was like pulling teeth to get her to swim, but she finally did.
"Uncle Sam, don't make them make me," she begged me.
"Drea, you owe it to yourself to swim. You've got the skills to win a gold medal; at least try," I reasoned with her from her hospital bed.
"I just hate that place so much," she whimpered.
"You're not a quitter, Rebecca, so don't give me this crap that you're not going to swim."
She glared at me for a few moments and finally sighed, "Fine. Three races. That's it."
That was four days ago.
There's this little nagging voice inside of me that says that we really shouldn't be pushing her. But this is for her own good, it really is. I'd hate myself if I made it all the way to the Olympics and then didn't swim because I didn't feel like it.
All of us are on her all the time, though. She's not staying in the Village; she's staying in Donna's hotel room. None of us thought that having her and Josh in the same room would be a good idea at the moment and Donna seemed like the best candidate.
Four hours to go until the first race.
Dear God, let her survive.
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I hate him.
I hate him with an unimaginable passion.
And I'm going to prove to him that I can do it.
He thinks I'm too weak to swim.
"Drea," he says, "you probably shouldn't swim quite yet. You've put your body through a lot."
No, Dad, you've put my body through a lot. I was trying to give it some relief.
But not now. Now it's got to win three gold medals.
And it's going to.
If for no other reason than my Dad said it couldn't, it will.
Even if it's the last thing I do.
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Well, she won.
All three races.
Rebecca Andrea Lyman has gone down in history as a triple-Olympic-gold medallist. She set one Olympic record and a world record in the process.
She's remarkable, she is.
And I'm her father.
And she hates me.
If I didn't have CJ, I don't know what I'd do.
Drea's newest endeavor is the Bartlet's newest, also. She's been cast as Danielle in the movie that they're backing. Independent, small budget, but Drea loves it.
I'm keeping my mouth shut. Things seem to go better when I do that.
I just want her to be happy. How did that get so lost in all of this shuffle?
I just want her to be happy.
Dear God, let her be happy.
That's all I can ask.