President Bartlet has MS.

President Bartlet lied.

Well, not a lie.  Not really.  He simply didn't tell anyone.  That's not so bad.  People can have legitimate reasons for not telling the world about their personal lives.

Some people get engaged and don't tell the world about it.

Perfectly understandable behavior.

There was an election, and President Bartlet lied about his health.

The Republicans will call it lying.  No getting around that.  The Republicans -- and probably most Democrats -- won't care about his private reasons for not disclosing the truth.

I have no idea how you spin something like that.

Good thing I'm not a member of the senior staff.

This man with his amazing mind -- this man who won a Nobel Prize and who has never once treated me as though I were a college dropout and therefore beneath his notice -- has a debilitating illness.  An illness that attacks the brain.  Imagine having a mind like his and knowing you could lose your ability to reason.

Imagine being President of the United States and realizing--

How do you deal with that?  How do you work your mind around that?  I can't -- I'm horrified, and I'm not even -- God, imagine what Zoey must be going through.  She would have been -- what? -- eleven or twelve when her father was diagnosed.  She's had this hanging over her head almost half her life.  How do you deal with -- My God, I want to curl up in a fetal position and pull the covers over my head, and it's not even my father.  I'm just the Deputy Chief of Staff's assistant, and it feels like a personal tragedy.

How long has Josh known?  I could tell you, right down to the minute.  He might not be able to tell me what's wrong, but I sure as hell know when something's bothering him.

One week.  He's known for one week.  I watched him go from shock to betrayal to damage control in the course of forty-eight hours.  I've watched him try to distance himself from me that whole time.  Trying to protect me.  Idiot.

They won't believe it, will they?  The Republicans and the press and all the commentators.  They won't for one minute believe that the senior staff didn't know about this during the campaign.  Josh is too good at what he does, too much the Master Politician.  Everyone will assume that he knew about the President's MS and that he advised the President to conceal it.

They'll assume Josh broke the law.

How can I make them understand that he didn't?  CJ will be the one out there, spinning thing for the press.  I should talk to her.  I should impress upon her the importance of stressing that Josh did not know about any of this.  Because I can just see it:  This is the sort of thing Mary Marsh and her ilk have been praying for.  How much will they love implying that Josh was to blame for all this?

I can't let that happen.  I should talk to CJ, make sure that's not going to happen.

CJ won't let that happen.  I'm sure of that.

Almost sure.  CJ's going to have so many other things on her mind.  Josh can't be her first priority.  I'm the only person for whom Josh's safety comes first.

The President has MS.

The President has MS, and I'm the only assistant who knows.

Bonnie, Ginger, Carol, Margaret -- They're all running around like it's an ordinary day.  Well, maybe not ordinary.  Everyone knows something's up.  We've known for a few days.  Leo, Toby, CJ, Sam, Josh -- they've all been acting strangely.  Closing doors on us more than usual, stopping conversations when we walk into the room, disappearing for hours without telling us why.

Josh has been avoiding me.

We've all known something's up, even if we didn't know what.

Only now I know.

Only I know.

Not even Mrs. Landingham--

Toby's wrong about that.  Mrs. Landingham has to know.  That woman sees everything.  Maybe no one told her, but I'll bet she knows.

If Josh had MS, I'd know.  He couldn't hide something like that from me.  Certainly not for eight years.

There are ways to find these things out.  Nothing sinister; you just have to pay attention.  Listen carefully.  Think it through.  Then you do whatever helps him most without getting underfoot.

There are ways to find these things out, and I learned them all from watching Mrs. Landingham.

If they've told me about this, it can't be long before they tell Mrs. Landingham.  Not that long until she knows.  Officially.

That will help.  Mrs. Landingham will know what I should do next.  What I can do to help Josh.  And the President, of course.

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow Mrs. Landingham will give me a cookie and tell me what to do and why I shouldn't worry.  Everything will be fine once I can talk this out with Mrs. Landingham.

She'll give me a cookie.  And advice.  And comfort.

After I talk to Mrs. Landingham, the world will make sense again.

I just have to hold on until I can talk to Mrs. Landingham.

Tomorrow.

THE END

05.11.01