Author Note: Just three chapters to go, friends…

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They're yelling again.

They managed to be civil in front of the Biehns, but all parties involved were visibly uncomfortable.

So, here I sit in my kitchen, alone, with my daughter and my husband screaming at each other in the living room.

I'm so sick of all of this.

"I'm coming to my only daughter's wedding."

Oh, dear. So, we're getting into this topic now, Josh? Definitely against your better judgment.

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"I'm coming to my only daughter's wedding," Josh huffed.

"No, you're not," Drea replied coolly. "It's my wedding. I choose the guest list. This is one area of my life that you have absolutely no say in, Joshua."

"I'm paying for this wedding, Rebecca Andrea Lyman and I'm coming to it."

"So now your money buys you my love?" Drea's eyebrow arched. "You don't have enough money for that, Joshua. And, we've discussed the fact that my name is Rebecca Cregg."

"That's it!" Josh let out a primal scream that shook the living room. "You're name is not Rebecca Cregg. I signed your birth certificate. Your name is Rebecca Andrea Lyman. Lyman is your last name – it always has been and it will be until you marry someone! Secondly, my name, as far as you're concerned, is Dad. For 18 years now, my name has been Dad and I'm not quite sure why that changed."

"You lost the right to be called Dad, Joshua. You forfeited it a long time ago," Drea replied.

"What?" Josh shrieked incredulously. "When? When did I sign something waving my rights and privileges as your father?"

"When you decided to run my life for me," she replied.

Josh sighed. "Drea, I want to have this conversation with you more than life itself, but I can't function mentally when you're calling me Joshua. If we're going to talk and resolve this, which I am so ready to do, I need you to either not use a name for me at all or call me Dad."

Drea stared at him for a minute, as though pondering the ramifications of her consent. After a few tense moments, she sighed. "Fine, Dad."

Josh's heart jumped. Perhaps the Drea that used to be wasn't so lost after all. "So, Drea, why do you hate me?"

Her left eyebrow arched and she cast a look at CJ.

CJ held up her hands, "No. I've been in between every argument since the two of you started having arguments. I'm not your go-between anymore. You need to do this on your own."

Drea bit her lip and stood. Moving to the mantle above the fireplace, she picked up a framed picture of her and Josh. She was about 10 years old and the two had flown to the Bartlet's Manchester farm for the weekend. The family has just returned from Drea's first trail ride. The little girl's crooked pig tails and semi-toothless grin shined as the focal point of the picture. But one's eyes eventually traveled to the stance of the man behind her. Even a casual observer could tell by Josh Lyman's posture and the way his arm embraced Drea that he loved his daughter with everything that he is. It was a few years before that man would give his heart to another woman, so at that moment, it belonged solely to Drea.

Tears began to slowly fill her eyes as she began to gather her thoughts. "I remember this day."

Josh shifted in his chair, but remained silent. He had waited years for Drea to speak to him – he wasn't about to take any chances.

"You were my whole world. I remember having a few casual playmates, but they fell so short compared to my daddy and his friends. Aunt Donna, Aunt Abbey, Uncle Jed, Uncle Sam, Mom – they were even cooler than the movie stars on TV. I mean, Dad, my earliest memories are of the White House. That, for starters, is a little unusual." She finally turned to face Josh. "I can remember sitting on a dark wooden table with a lot of papers strewn all around me and a lot of people in the room and you were yelling."

CJ scoffed, "Not a rare occasion, Drea. You dad likes to yell."

Drea smiled sadly, "I remember that, too."

Josh waited for a moment and then broke the silence, "Did I ever yell at you? Because I don't remember ever having to reprimand you."

"No, Aunt Donna and Mom did that," Drea giggled. She paused, indicating that she had more to say, but was afraid to say it.

"You remember my PTSD attacks, don't you?" Josh spoke softly.

Drea nodded, "Yeah."

Their eyes met and they stared into each other's souls for a bit until Josh finally broke the silence. "I remember that night. It was the night before Bartlet's last State of the Union address. I couldn't find a baby-sitter and Stacy was on vacation, so I trucked you into the Roosevelt Room and let you entertain yourself."

"You must have sat on everyone's lap that night," CJ mused. "You were only four years old, but no one would have guessed that."

"You were so well-behaved, Drea," Josh said with pride. "It was almost as if you knew the sheer magnitude of what was happening. You wandered around the room, eating everyone's food and preventing all of us from going insane."

"I think I did know," Drea interjected quietly.

Josh and CJ sat quietly, imploring Drea to continue.

"Dad, I figured out a long time ago that I am, or I was, you key to sanity. I've always known that greatness was expected of me. There was never any middle ground for me. I won. I conquered. I needed to be the best. Failure has never been an option," she paused. "Dad, what was my graduating GPA?"

"3.9?"

"4.3. My SAT score?"

"1490?"

"1560."

Josh sat in stunned silence for a moment while Drea looked intently at her father. "Were we ever normal, Dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"Were we, the two of us, as a family, ever just the status quo?"

Josh paused. Standing, he moved to the fireplace, where Drea was still standing fingering the picture. "You know, I asked CJ that very same question about 16 years ago."

"That's quite a while," Drea smiled.

"I asked her the night that you were diagnosed. I wanted to know if my life could ever become normal. I wanted a nice, predictable job with a nice, predictable wife, dog, two kids, etcetera. I did not think that juggling a high-level job at the White House, an infant daughter with diabetes and having to patch my life back together again after Lis died was very fair. Your mom almost laughed at me."

Drea's eyes went wide, "She what?"

"She almost laughed at me. The gist of her little speech was that "to whom much is given, much is required." Drea, we'll never be normal. You're almost drowning in all the gifts that you've been given. You're like a super child or something! I am so unbelievably proud of you!"

Drea's face twisted, "For what? I've won some medals, earned some gold statues, smiled at a lot of photo shoots. But what have I ever done to make you proud of me?"

Josh felt the tears fill his eyes. "Well, for a while there, you were coming home at the end of the day."

His answer caught Drea completely off-guard. "What?"

"All you have ever had to do to make me proud of you was run into my arms at the end of the day. Since you haven't done that in a while, I've found an abundance of other things. You have this gift that makes people adore you. No matter what you've done or how you've done it, people still follow you in throngs. But you've never abused that privilege. You're still one of the most humble and genuine people I know. I've come to the conclusion that a large part of that is because you focus all of your negative energy on hating me."

Drea was crying at this point. She had been staring at the picture until Josh's last sentence. She then let her eyes sink deep into Josh's. "Papa Bear, I have never hated you."

"What?"

"I've never hated my Papa Bear, but you stopped being that a long time ago."

"I'm confused."

"Right around the time that I qualified for the Games, you turned into this victory-crazed manager. It became as though your love for me depended on how much time it took me to swim two laps of a pool. I figured it was swimming you were obsessed with, so I told you I wanted to be an actress, hoping that you'd tell me that I was on my own. But you didn't – so I knew I had to get out." Drea couldn't believe that she was telling him all of this.

The small family sat in silence for a few peaceful moments while Drea's explination sunk into their hearts. Finally, CJ cleared her throat.

"Drea, why are you getting married?"

"Because I love Brian," she replied automatically.

"No, you don't. You tolerate him," CJ responded.

"What?" Drea said. "How would you know?"

"Because women get a certain look about them when they're in love, and you've never had that look."

Before Josh even knew what he was saying, the words tumbled out of his mouth. "Drea, are you marrying Brian to escape me?"

She hesitated. Finally, very softly, "Yeah."