The Loyalty of Faithful Friends

We pledge the loyalty of faithful friends. United, there is little we cannot do in a host of cooperative ventures. Divided, there is little we can do—for we dare not meet a powerful challenge at odds and split asunder.

John F. Kennedy

Inaugural Address, January 20, 1961

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

The look on Jed's face as I put the napkin in his lap is nothing short of heartbreaking. While Jed Bartlet isn't a big man by any stretch of the imagination he looks so, so small right now. He doesn't look like one who is always "king of whatever room he's in". He looks like terrified, humiliated, exhausted and old, all at once.

"Try not to spill anything down the front of my shirt," he says, trying to tease me a little and ease some of the tension that's threatening to overtake the room.

"I'll try my best, sir," I assure him as I move a chair closer so I can sit down.

"Milly, you're spoon feeding me my dinner, please don't call me sir." While his tone is teasing there's a seriousness in his eyes I can't ignore.

We make a few aborted attempts at a conversation while I get him to eat something. He manages to get down about half of what was on the tray. If I had to guess that was probably the first thing he's eaten all day. His eating habits haven't improved much from his college days 40 years ago.

"I'm going to grab my bag. Will you be ok by yourself for a minute or should I send someone in?" I ask as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"Where in the hell am I going to go?" he smirks with just a hint of a twinkle in his eye. I just wink and head out the door. I somehow manage to make it to the other side of the plane, grab my bag and return to Jed's office without being spotted by CJ or Toby. I'm not sure how that happened but I'm glad it did.

"Nobody stopped you on the way?" Jed asks when I literally return no more than 3 minutes later.

"Surprisingly, no." I answer as I turn the overhead light on and reach into my bag. "So the eye thing's been going on for how long?" I ask with my best eyebrows raised, "you'd better start talking now" glare.

"You've talked to Abbey," he sighs.

"Jed, you asked me to go on a trip to China with not much notice. Of course I called Abbey to find out why."

"Oh, I suppose I should have thought of that. Anyway, the eye, I don't know 5 days or so. Vision is coming back slowly. Pain's almost gone, just bothers me at night, when I'm tired," he admits. I take a quick look and don't see anything to panic about. He said his vision is improving and like most MS symptoms, it will take a while for it to resolve completely. A quick check of his heart and lungs and I don't find anything remarkable, not that I really expected to.

"So now what?" he asks as I toss everything back in my black bag.

"Rest and if there's no improvement in the next few hours, some IV steroids." He just nods; he knew what my answer was going to be. And he also knows that arguing will serve no useful purpose. "So, do you want to rest here or go back to the bedroom?"

"Here is fine," he answers as he hitches his chin towards the couch. "Help me up."

I help him to his feet and steer him in the general direction of the couch. He sits down awkwardly and swings his legs up while I grab a pillow and a blanket.

"Where's the remote?" he asks as he glances around a little.

"No way, no television. You need sleep Jed. I mean it," I warn him as I lean over to slip off his shoes and stick the pillow under his head. "Does everything on this plane have the damn seal on it?" I tease as I shake out the navy blue blanket with the Presidential Seal blazoned on the middle of it.

"Well, I don't think it's on the toilet paper or....or the....maybe it is on everything else," he says with a goofy grin. I chuckle a little as I kneel down next to the couch. I loosen his red tie and undo the top two buttons of his blue dress shirt.

"Do you want that off too?" I ask as I point to his watch.

"Please. And could you do something with my hands? I look like I'm ready for the damn coffin," he mutters as he looks at his hands folded together on his chest. I tuck his right arm next to him, leaving his left hand on his chest, although I do uncurl his fingers a little so they don't cramp up.

"I'm going to talk to CJ, Toby and Kate. They need to know what's going on." I wait for the complaining to begin but much to my surprise it doesn't. And I have to admit that a little disconcerting. I was sure he would put up a fight about it. He nods his approval and closes his eyes, effectively ending our conversation. "There's an agent outside, yell if you need anything." He just nods a little and I get up to leave. As my hand touches the doorknob I hear him whisper, "Thank you." I lean over a little and he opens his eyes, tipping his head back enough to look at me. "You're welcome. Now sleep," I urge him as I lean over and plant a kiss on his forehead.

I step out into the hall and glance at the agent as I head to find CJ, Toby and Kate. I think about how, when I got up this morning, I had planned on working half a day and finishing up my Christmas shopping. Now I'm on Air Force One caught right in the middle of the biggest Presidential medical crisis since Rosslyn.

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

Well, that conversation went about as well as I had expected. CJ's about to freak out, Toby's having trouble wrapping his mind around the whole concept and Kate was level headed in the face of a crisis. I peek in on Jed, who is surprisingly asleep. CJ goes to get a call put through to Abbey while I wander back to the family cabin where my bags were put when we boarded the plane. I kick off my shoes as I collapse into a chair waiting for the phone call to be patched through. It rings a minute later and I take a deep breath before I answer it.

"Millicent Griffith."

"Dr. Griffith, the First Lady for you," the disembodied, clipped military voice announces.

"Thank you." I brush the hair out of my eyes as I wait for the connection to be completed.

"Milly, it's Abbey. What happened?" she asks, not bothering to actually greet me. That's ok, I understand completely.

"He has some numbness in his hands."

"Both of them?" she asks and I can almost hear the medical wheels starting to turn in her head.

"Yes. Apparently he had some trouble with the right earlier today. Don't think he bothered mentioning it to anyone." Abbey's silent for a few seconds and then I hear her mutter "jackass" under her breath. For as long as I've known them, that's been her favorite thing to call Jed when she's annoyed with him.

"What's he doing now? Holding the pen between his teeth trying to sign something?" she snorts out of the frustration at being thousand of miles away and unable to help him right now.

"He's sleeping on the couch in his office."

"Did you talk to the flight surgeon yet?"

"No, I told Jed I would give him a few hours to show some improvement before I alerted everyone. I did talk to CJ, Toby and Kate so they know what's going on."

"I should have never let him get on that plane."

"Abbey there was no way you were going to stop him. We both know that. He knew what was happening and wanted to shield you from it. That's why he asked me to go."

"I know," she sighs. "And I'm glad you're there. I guess there's nothing I can do from here. Keep me posted and if anything changes I don't want to find out about it on CNN. Been there, done that," she sighs.

"I'll call in a couple of hours," I promise before hanging up. I'm at a loss over what to do right now. I'd like to go check on Jed again, maybe even just hang out in his office while he rests but somehow that just feels a little odd. I've known Jed for over 40 years. And I'll admit at one point I had quite the crush on him when I was a junior in high school and my brother brought him home from Notre Dame. Sure, he was a short nerdy guy but I found him appealing, maybe because he didn't treat me like my brother's kid sister. But that didn't really matter because eventually I introduced him to my best friend, Abbey.

Anyway, I'm not sure if there's some sort of protocol surrounding a sleeping President.

Screw it, I don't care. I pick up something to read and head back to Jed's office. I just nod and smile politely at the agent. He says nothing as I go in. Jed stirs a little from the light streaming in the room but he doesn't really wake up.

I sit at his desk and turn on the small lamp, giving me enough light to read by but not enough that it'll disturb him. I get about four or five pages into the book when I get the distinct feeling I'm being watched. I look over towards the couch and I see Jed's eyes are opened. "Hey."

"Keeping an eye on me?" he asks, slurring his words a little as he's not quite awake.

"Yes sir," I say as I kneel next to the couch and pick up his left hand. "So, how are you doing?"

"Don't call me sir," he says, stalling for a few seconds to give him a chance to decide if things have improved. "Things are the same," he eventually admits.

"It's ok," I whisper as I pat his shoulder. "Try to get a little more rest. If nothing changes in the next hour we'll find the flight surgeon and talk about options. OK?" He just nods and closes his eyes again.

I read for a little while, until I'm sure he's fallen back to sleep. I leave him alone and go off in search of a cup of coffee. There seems to be a little more movement around the plane. People scurrying along the corridor, talking on the phones and in general, looking busy.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," someone calls me.

"Hey CJ. What's up?"

"Is the President asleep?" she asks nervously.

"He was a little while ago."

"Oh. Uh, something's happening and I really need him to make a phone call," she explains with an almost apologetic tone in her voice.

"You can wake him. I want to check on him anyway. Come find me when he's off the phone."

"Yes ma'am. Thank you," she mutters as I roll my eyes at her.

"Milly is fine," I remind her. I really dislike being called ma'am.

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

"MILLY," I hear CJ yell all of two minutes later. I scramble to my feet and break out into a dead run towards Jed's office. By the time I get there it's quite crowded. CJ and Kate are both standing over the couch, a big burly agent is in the doorway and another one is standing by Jed's desk. Not far behind me is Toby and someone I don't recognize immediately but my best guess would be that he's the flight surgeon.

"OK, everybody out," I say as diplomatically as I can. Everyone looks at Jed for his reaction. He just nods and they leave. The flight surgeon, who according to his name badge, is Lt. Col. Hamilton stays, which is fine with me, I have a feeling I'm going to need a little back up.

"Jed, what's wrong?" I ask as I flick on the overhead light before kneeling next to the couch. He's incredibly pale and shaking slightly. I brush my hand over his forehead, finding it a little cool and clammy.

"I can't move," he whispers as his voice cracks.

"OK, don't panic," I tell him. I realize that sounds like a pretty dumb thing to say but it was the first thing that popped into my mind. "Arms and legs are all numb?" I ask as I pull the blanket off and toss it aside. He just nods. I turn to the flight surgeon who hands me my black bag. I can tell he wants to just jump in and take over but he doesn't. I fumble around with one hand looking for a stethoscope as I rub Jed's shoulder in what I can only hope is a reassuring gesture. "How's your breathing?" I ask as I warm up the end of the stethoscope.

"It's fine," he mutters as I take a quick listen to his heart and lungs.

"OK, the flight surgeon's here. I'm going to step out while you talk to him." I think I've done enough to trample all over protocol. I may be the Surgeon General and Jed's friend of 40+ years, but on Air Force One, it's the flight surgeon who is in charge.

"Stay, please," he almost begs. I sit on the arm of the couch by his feet as he and Lt. Col. Hamilton, whose first name I learn, is Dennis, talk. Jed admits everything that's been going on. He doesn't hold anything back and Dennis is doing his best not to look shocked at everything Jed is telling him.

"OK, Mr. President. We're going to need to move you back to the infirmary."

"I can't just stay here?" he whines in a very unpresidential tone.

"Jed," I say in my best warning voice, the one usually reserved for my kids.

"Fine. But could we clear the hallway a little? I don't want half the plane staring at me," he says. The big, burly agent, whose name I still don't know, nods and goes out to clear the area. He comes back a minute later and he and two other agents get Jed loaded on the stretcher under the direction of Dennis and I. Jed looks absolutely mortified and it's all I can do to keep from breaking down myself.

We make it back to the infirmary with a minimal amount of commotion but quite a crowd seems to have followed us into the small room. Jed just rolls his eyes as he's transferred onto the bed. I move to undo a few more buttons on his shirt, slip off his vest and take off his tie. Jed exerts a little Presidential power and refuses to have the plane turn around or land anywhere other than China. Dennis then clears the room in a rather brusque but completely understandable manner. CJ and Toby don't exactly take kindly to being shoved out but right now I don't particularly care.

Dennis takes Jed's vitals and jots everything down on a notepad, no doubt emblazoned with the Presidential Seal. He asks Jed a few more questions before turning towards me.

"Dr. Griffith..."

"Milly," I correct him.

"Milly. I'm going to grab an IV kit and get some steroids started."

"Solu-Medrol?" I ask. Dennis just nods and goes off to gather the supplies.

"Some trip huh?" Jed mutters as I sit on the edge of the bed.

"Well, it's a little more exciting than finishing my Christmas shopping," I tease as I brush back the hair that's flopped over his forehead. "Do you want me to call Abbey?"

"Not yet."

"OK. How about we get you out of your dress shirt and into something a little more comfortable," I suggest.

"Yeah, there's a t-shirt or something in the bedroom."

"With the Presidential Seal, no doubt," I tease. He laughs a little.

By the time I return with a t-shirt and Jed's slippers Dennis has gotten the IV port in and has managed to slip off Jed's dress shirt. Together we get the t-shirt on and settle Jed back against the pillows. Dennis hands me the bag of IV fluids and I attach the tubing to the port before hanging the bag from the hook on the wall.

"And now we wait?" Jed asks as he glances between Dennis and me.

"Yes, sir," Dennis answers. "I don't really see any need for me to sit here with you. If you need anything I'll be next door."

"Thank you," Jed answers. Dennis gives a little nod in my direction before closing the door quietly behind him.

"Do you want me to go too?" I ask, not sure exactly what to do right now.

"No, stay." I nod and slip off my shoes before curling up in the chair by the bed.

We talk for a while. It's pretty clear Jed is going to fight sleep as long as he can. I'm just about to suggest giving him something to help him relax a little when there's a tentative knock on the door. "Come in," Jed yells in his best Presidential bellow. CJ enters the room looking more timid than a 6 foot tall woman should be able to.

"May I talk to him for a minute?" she asks, directing the question towards me.

"Ask me that question, Claudia Jean," Jed growls from the bed.

"Yes, Sir," CJ says as she pulls herself up to her full height and crossed the small room. I make a quick exit. Whatever she wants to discuss probably doesn't have anything to do with me. I decide to make my way back to the family cabin and call Abbey, before anything ends up on CNN.

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

"Ma'am, Milly, he's asking for you," CJ says from the doorway as I hang up the phone after my conversation with Abbey. "The First Lady?" CJ asks as she points towards the phone.

"Yes. She's feeling a little frustrated right now. As we all are, I suppose. Did you get done what you needed to get done?"

"Yes. He made the phone call."

"Is there anything else you need from him? I'd really like to see him get some more sleep before we land."

"I think we're fine at the moment. Keep me posted," she says as she makes a quick getaway down the hall.

"Hey," Jed calls softly as I push the door open.

"Hey yourself. Any change?" I ask as I pull a chair next to the bed. Jed nods and bends his left wrist a little. It's a clumsy movement, but a movement none the less. I smile and pull the blanket back to expose his feet. He moves them a little too.

"Great. How about your right hand?" He bends his elbow a little but doesn't manage to move his hand or his fingers. "Can you feel this?" I ask as I take his hand in mine.

"No."

"OK. Jed, you're doing fine. Give it some time. I talked to Abbey."

"She about ready to hand me my head on a platter?"

"Well, I think I heard her mutter the phrase "jackass" at least twice," I tease. Jed laughs as little and then takes a few slow deep breaths as if to gain control over something.

"You ok?" I ask as I notice he's lost some of the color he'd regained in the last hour or so.

"Nauseous all of the sudden," he whispers.

"Do you want to try and sit up a little?" He just nods and tries to lever himself up a bit with little success. I call out for Dennis who appears with lightning speed. He assesses the situation in about a second and a half and disappears again before returning with a basin, a damp washcloth and a can of ginger ale. We prop Jed up a little more with some pillows. He's clearly uncomfortable and frankly looks as if he's about to have a full blown anxiety attack from the combination of his symptoms and the side effects of the steroids.

"I'm going to check on our supply of Compazine or maybe a little Ativan," Dennis says as he hands me the basin. I set it in Jed's lap and wipe his face with the cool cloth before folding it up and putting it on the back of his neck.

"Slow deep breaths," I coach as I rub his back a little.

"When was the last time you actually practiced medicine?" Jed groans.

"Jed, rubbing your back while you're trying not to puke doesn't really require much medical training," I tease. He starts to make a smartass remark but ends up throwing up into the basin instead. Dennis peeks his head in to check on us. "How about a little Compazine?" I suggest. Jed nods a little, even though my suggestion was aimed at Dennis, who smiles a bit and holds up the syringe he brought in with him.

"Don't let her do it," Jed groans a he picks his head up a little. He hitches his chin towards the can of ginger ale on the table.

"Just rinse your mouth, don't drink anything just yet," I suggest as I hold the straw so he can drink. He swishes and spits.

"You went to medical school to learn that helpful hint?" he snorts. I just glare a little and wipe his mouth for him. "I don't suppose that goes into my arm?" Jed mutters.

"Sorry Mr. President," Dennis nods with as straight a face as he can manage.

"You've been trying for years to get me to drop my pants," Jed mumbles in my direction. Dennis doesn't quite know what to say so I explain to him the fact that Jed and I have known each other for a long time.

"You left out the part where you had a crush on me," Jed says before groaning as Dennis injects him with the Compazine.

"I was a junior in high school," I remind him as he settles back down against the pillows and I cover him back up. Dennis checks the IV before retreating back to the other room.

"Thank you," Jed whispers as he clumsily tries to reach out to me with his left hand. I take it in mine and hold it for a minute as Jed struggles to keep his eyes open.

"Jed, just relax. Don't fight sleep, you need it."

"But what if...what if by the time we get to China I'm still like this?" he asks with this heartbreaking look on his face.

"Then we'll deal with it"

"How? Prop me up on a hand truck and push me out there in the middle of Tiananmen Square?" he laughs bitterly.

I can't help but snicker at that image. "Wheelchair, if we have to. You're the one who refused to turn the plane around," I remind him as nicely as I can.

"Wheelchair," he snorts a little under his breath.

"FDR did it," I say, reminding him of the obvious.

"You know Milly, if there had been a television in every house 70 years ago, this country would not have elected a man in a wheelchair."

"Well, then it's a good thing you've already been re-elected," I point out as I turn out the overhead light. He lets out a frustrated sigh, knowing I'm not about to let him throw a pity party. "Jed, close your eyes. You still have a few hours to get some more rest." He starts to protest but a huge yawn pretty much ruins it for him.

"Fine," he agrees as he rolls onto his side as best he can. I put a few pillows behind his back to prop him up a little.

"Better?" He just nods as he closes his eyes. I grab an extra blanket from the closet and curl up in an effort to get some sleep myself.

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

I have absolutely no sense of time or space when I wake up. A quick glance at my watch tells me nothing as I have no idea what time zone it is set for, nor do I have any idea when I fell asleep. Jed's still sound asleep, curled up in a ball, which means he's moving around a bit more. That's a good sign. I toss my blanket aside and get up to stretch a little as Dennis comes in to check on Jed.

"You ok?" he asks, probably taking in my utterly confused state.

"Yeah. Just a little trouble getting oriented," I mutter.

"You've been asleep for 3 hours and we have a little under two before we land. Does that help?" he teases. I just nod. Dennis checks Jed's IV; he must have hung another bag while we were sleeping because the bag is still about half full. "I'm just going to keep this in as long as I can."

"Or until he starts threatening to take it out himself," I mutter as I slip on my shoes.

"Something like that. Why don't we step in the other room and talk for a few minutes?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." I follow Dennis into the little office area, shielding my eyes against the brightness of the room.

"So..." Dennis starts, clearly waiting for me to jump in a lead the conversation.

"We wake him soon and see how he's doing. I sincerely doubt he's going to be walking off this plane. We already had a short conversation about the wheelchair. I think deep down he knows that is probably going to be his only option. At least for the time being. He's obviously less than thrilled."

"What about the press?" Dennis wonders.

"So far things have been quiet. CJ says only a few press corps members saw Jed on the stretcher and they were warned that if they ever want to set foot on this plane again they would not be filing a story from the air. But obviously, if we're wheeling him off the plane the press corps is going to need a heads up. I guess we can let CJ brief them in an hour or so."

"Sounds like a plan, I guess," Dennis says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Should I wake him?" he asks.

"If you want to," I tease.

"Not really; you can do it," he grins.

"Fine. Send an agent to the bedroom to get a clean shirt and tie."

Dennis heads out into the hall as I take a deep breath, bracing myself in case the situation hasn't improved at all. I go back into room. Jed's still out like a light. He's curled up facing me. In the dim light and with his hair flopped over his forehead he looks very much like the 20 year old guy my brother brought home for the weekend.

"Jed," I whisper as I kneel next to the bed.

"Abbey?" he mutters in his sleep.

"Jed, it's Milly. Can you open your eyes for me?" He opens them a little and looks around, clearly about as oriented as I was when I first woke up.

"Wasn't just a nightmare, was it?" he asks as he eyes the IV in his right hand.

"Nope, sorry it wasn't. You need to wake up a little more so we can see where we are. The plane lands in a little under 2 hours. Are you ready to sit up?" Jed nods as Dennis comes into the room. He puts Jed's clothes on the table and helps me sit him up a little.

"Mr. President, are you ok?" Dennis asks as Jed pales a little.

Jed shakes his head just a little. "Dizzy," he admits.

"OK, we can put you back down," Dennis suggests.

"No," Jed says adamantly as he takes a few slow deep breaths. I excuse myself for a second to grab a basin and a washcloth, just in case.

"Better?" I ask after I wipe his face a little and he drinks some ginger ale.

"Yeah," he answers, without the usual conviction in his voice.

"OK, we're going to need to get an idea of how things are progressing, Mr. President. Can you tell me what's going on right now?" Dennis asks as he pulls up a chair.

"I can feel her holding my hand," Jed answers as he looks down to see his left hand and my right one sitting on his knee.

"Good, what about your right hand?" Jed is able to move his right arm and wrist a bit but fine motor control is still basically absent.

"Now for the hard part," I say as I tap Jed's knee. "How are your legs?" He takes a while to answer, sort of shuffling his feet back and forth a little against the carpet.

"I can feel my legs and move them but I can't feel my feet on the floor," he sighs as he slumps a little. "And even if my legs will hold me up, if I can't feel the floor, I'm going to trip over my own feet. And I don't have enough strength in my hands and arms to try crutches or a cane. I guess we're out of options. I'll have to use the chair."

"Yes, you will." I just agree because I really can't think of anything helpful to say at the moment. "Now, CJ will need to talk to the Press. Do you want me to have her come in so you can talk to her?"

"Not yet, not like this," he says as he gestures towards his wrinkled t-shirt and messy hair. "Can you help me get cleaned up a little?" he asks as he wipes the back of his left hand over his eyes to get rid of the little tears of frustration that have started to gather. Dennis takes this as his sign to leave.

"Let me know if you need anything, Mr. President."

"Thank you," Jed says politely. As soon as the door shuts behind Dennis he lets himself slump over a little, leaning against me. I put my arm around his shoulders while we both cry for a few minutes. "I'm ok now," he eventually mutters as he points towards the box of tissues. I grab some for both of us.

"OK, Dennis got a clean shirt and a new tie. How about we start with them?" I suggest.

"How about we start with a shave?" Jed says as he rubs his hand over his chin. "With the electric razor," he adds as he catches the goofy grin on my face. "You may be the Surgeon General, but you're not coming near me with any sharp objects," he laughs.

"I'll go get it. You steady enough to sit here on the bed by yourself?"

"I don't think so. What about the chair?" he asks as he points to the straight back chair with arms on the other side of the room. I just nod and pull it next to the bed. With a minimal amount of trouble I manage to get him on his feet and he shuffles the foot or so to the chair. He drops down with no grace whatsoever but at least he didn't end up on the floor. "Can I lose this?" he asks as he shakes the IV line at me.

"Let that bag finish running in. Then we'll take it out."

I grab his razor, toothbrush and comb out of the bathroom of the family cabin.

Half an hour later and we're both considerably more put together than we were. Jed is sitting in his office chair, freshly shaved and wearing a crisp white dress shirt. I'm buttoning his vest and fixing his tie when the door opens and CJ, Toby and Kate walk in. I give one final adjustment to his tie and step back so he can talk to his staff. He shows off the use of his left hand and talks about the wheelchair. I step off to the side, not quite feeling that I belong in the room. I haven't been the Surgeon General so far on this trip; I've been Jed's friend, just like I've been for 40 years. But when he's done speaking to the Press Corps it will be my turn to put on my professional persona. Time to put aside my personal feelings and the heartbreak I feel as I stand here watching Jed's agent set him in the wheelchair.

"Everybody out," Jed orders after he's settled in the chair. "You stay," he says pointing at me. Everyone files out, taking care not to glance back and get another look at their leader sitting in a wheelchair. As the door closes behind Toby the upbeat look Jed worked so hard to keep on his face while he was talking to his staff crumbles just a little and I get a glimpse of the pain he's doing his best to hide. It's not a physical pain, he assured me there is none at the moment, it's the pain that comes with uncertainty and fear. A pain for which there is no pill.

"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" I ask as I kneel next to him. He nods silently as I reach over to uncurl the fingers on his right hand and set them flat against his knee.

"Where's my watch?"

"Here," I say as I grab it off the corner of the desk where I had set it down after taking it off of him earlier. I push back his sleeve a little and put it on him. I fix that errant strand of hair that refuses to stay in place and I look to make sure his shoes are tied. I give him a nod when I'm sure he looks Presidential enough to face the Press Corps.

"I can't thank you enough for everything you did today," he says quietly.

"You don't have to. That's what friends are for." He just nods. I stand up and brush invisible lint from my pants. An agent peeks his head in the door, letting us know it's time. Jed motions for me to lean over and he kisses my cheek. I smile and plant a kiss on his forehead.

"You didn't get lipstick on me did you?" he teases. I run my thumb over his forehead just in case I did. I can't really tell right now as tears are clouding my vision.

"Go, I'll be right behind you," I assure him. He hands me his handkerchief and the agent comes in to push him down to the Press Cabin. I watch as the agent stops pushing and leans over to hear whatever it is Jed is saying. I watch as the agent steps aside and Jed proceeds to push himself. It takes him a minute to gain momentum but he does it. I don't know how but he does.

Even after 40 years I still find myself amazed at the enduring determination of Jed Bartlet.

THE END

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