Title: White Rabbit

Author: Dayglo

Category: General, Pre-White House

Rating: PG

Summary: When logic and proportion/ Have fallen sloppy dead,/ And the White
Knight is talking backwards/ And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"/ Remember
what the dormouse said:/ "Feed your head. Feed your head. Feed your head"

Disclaimer: Not mine. Song's not mine either. Don't bother suing, I have no
money.

Author's note: I've decided to start a POV series of the characters before
Bartlet became President. This one's Leo.

E-mail address: arielle@email.byu.edu

He couldn't breathe again. It felt as though someone was sitting on his chest.
All he could see was men dying. He was there again.

"Leo, Leo!"

"What?"

"You're having anxiety attacks again aren't you? That's it, tomorrow you're
going to the doctor, he has to be able to do something to help you."

"I'm fine Jenny"

"No, you're not."

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small,
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all.

"Alright, Mr. McGarry, the Valium should stave off the panic attacks, okay, just
use caution in how many you take, Valium can be addictive."

"Okay"

Oh, this is much better, I haven't felt this good in a long time, not since
before the war, at least. Let's see, I had one an hour ago, I could probably
have another one now. I don't need to worry about becoming addicted, I'm
stronger than that. I drink alcohol all the time, but I'm not an alcoholic. I
could stop if I wanted to, but why would I want to, why would I ever want to
stop feeling like this?

Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall.

I search madly for the pills, pulling things out of the medicine cabinet.
"Jenny! Where's the Valium?!"

She entered the room, "Where's the bottle you had a couple of days ago?"

"It's gone"

"The entire thing?! Leo you have to stop, it's not going to take away all the
pain, you know."

Ignoring her, I storm out of the bathroom to go get my prescription refilled.

And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you're going to fall,
Tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call.

It's Mallory's fifth birthday and there's 10 little kids running around
screaming at the top of their lungs. I fight the urge to go take some pills, I
don't want to be out of it for her birthday. The screams haunt me, but I manage
to get through it.

After the party is over, Mallory goes around popping the balloons. As she does,
all I can hear is the gunfire. I make my way to the medicine cabinet.

Call Alice
When she was just small.

I'm not sure where I am, but the foggy feeling in my head tells me I've had too
much alcohol and Valium again. It's got to be late and I don't really want to
call Jenny and hear the disappointment in her voice again, but it's cold out
here and I don't know what else to do. Sighing, I find my cell phone, surprised
I still have it on me, and press the button.

When the men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low.
Go ask Alice
I think she'll know.

My tongue feels fuzzy and everything is tilting. "Jenny, what day is it?"

She sighs and says, "it's Saturday, Leo".

"Oh, well then why isn't Mallory at school?"

Anger, disappointment and resignation settle on her features as she answers,
"because it's Saturday."

"Oh"

When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead,
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"
Remember what the dormouse said:
"Feed your head. Feed your head. Feed your head"

I awake to the sounds of guns and bombs and dying men. I can see them in my
mind's eye. Jenny tries to get me to come back to her, but I can't. She's too
far away. I can smell the blood and the sweat and I run to the bathroom, to the
medicine cabinet. As my chest constricts for want of oxygen and the bombs flash
before my eyes, I take the pills, ignoring Jenny's pleas. I know I should stop,
but I can't. I need to not feel anymore, at least for a little while. The pain
will be gone soon enough. Until the next time. I hear Jenny crying, but it
doesn't register and I go pour myself a glass of Scotch and sit on the couch in
the living room.

And I wait.

 

 

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