Title: "Somewhere in Washington"
Spoilers: Everything through third season.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but I keep hoping if I'm a good girl, Santa will surprise me next year... I've got my fingers crossed!
Summary: "Bartlet for America" Post Ep.
**This was written immediately after the episode, a looooong time ago, and there's basically no dialogue... Hope it makes sense!**
Somewhere in Washington, a man sat at his desk and wept over a four-year-old napkin and a friendship he'd give up anything for - and almost had. He then pulled himself together and called his daughter to accept her invitation to Christmas dinner... and maybe talk about a certain lawyer.
Somewhere in Washington, a man pulled back the covers and slipped into bed next to his wife, wishing desperately for some way to remove the burden and end the pain and embarrassment he'd caused her. But when she rolled over and opened her arms to him he could almost forget that they were no longer 25 and that life hadn't turned out the way they'd planned. Almost.
Somewhere in Washington, a man paced furiously through his office. He ignored the phone call from his wife reminding him that he promised to be home early - it was nearly Christmas Eve. He moved blindly, thinking of the majority council's accusation. Ruining the party? He was saving the party from weak moderates who pandered to the middle, like the council himself and that friend of his - the blonde girl working in the White House, under Bartlet. She'd probably "worked" under this Cliff asshole, too... An idea began to form in his head and he smirked as he moved towards the phone.
Somewhere in Washington, a man let himself into his Georgetown apartment and tossed his briefcase on a chair. He poured himself a scotch and sat down heavily in the dark living room, deep in thought. He'd done the right thing - he knew that. But was it for the right reasons? Or was it for her? And what about Lyman's testimony? Could he stand to take the high road when Lyman was questioned, knowing what he knew? Damn diary... He poured himself another scotch and closed his eyes.
Somewhere in Washington, a woman got home too late again. She headed towards her bedroom where her suitcases were already packed, pausing at the dresser to check the plane ticket again: arrival in Madison, WI, 2 p.m. As she undressed, the worry pricked at her brain. Was it OK for her to leave? He was so much better than last year, but he wasn't sleeping, and she had to remind him to eat most days. It was only three days... but even so... Maybe that was what nagged her most of all... maybe he didn't need her. She climbed into bed and dreamt restlessly about sirens and carols and sharp shards of glass.
Somewhere in Washington, a man lay awake, thinking about a request from a friend. Why had Josh needed someone today? What did they have on Leo? Was this the beginning of another witch-hunt? Or was it something with the potential to destroy them all... maybe just Josh... he'd destroy himself before he let them have Leo. He lay awake wondering why he was always the last to know.
Somewhere in Washington, a man sat in his office and thought. Leo was OK, and he felt better about that. The older man had been right that morning - for him it was just as much about fixing everything as it was about friendship. He had failed everyone he'd ever loved... his sister, then his father... he disappointed his mother by choosing the messy world of politics over the neat confines of law, then scared her half to death by nearly dying... He wasn't about to let Leo down too. It occurred to him that he'd never told his mom about the PTSD. He'd have to do that soon, before his turn came up. She'd be hurt if she had to learn about it watching him testify on TV. He knew someone had it. People had a way of finding things out... in fact, he suspected that was the reason Donna lied about her diary... and he'd tried so hard to protect her... Even if Cliff didn't tell anyone, someone else would have it and would ask. With that in mind, he turned once more to the letter in front of him on the desk. An ice cold panic was welling in his stomach - life without politics was inconceivable, pure and simple... and life without her... but he signed the letter, sealed it and placed it in his top drawer. He looked at the clock - 2 a.m. He was driving Donna to the airport at 8 in the morning... no point in going to sleep now. He pulled put the FBI file on a kid from Tennessee and settled down to work.