Title You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Part One You don't bring me flowers, you don't sing me love songs. You hardly talk to me anymore when you come through the door at the end of the day. I remember when you couldn't wait to love me, used to hate to leave me. Now after loving me late at night, when it's good for you and you're feeling alright, well, you just roll over and you turn out the light. And you don't bring me flowers anymore. It used to be so natural to talk about forever. But 'used to be's' don't count anymore, they just lay on the floor till we sweep them away. And baby, I remember all the things you taught me. I learned how to laugh and I learned how to cry. Well I learned how to love, even learned how to lie. You'd think I could learn how to tell you goodbye. Cause you don't bring me flowers anymore. (Diamond/Bergman/Bergman) He won’t remember our anniversary. That’s okay. Only one of us has to. That would be me. Oh, and Margaret. Of course, only one of us has to work twenty-hour days six days a week. Only one of us has to interrupt family gatherings to take ‘phone calls from the President. Only one of us has to actually say that their job is more important than their marriage. That would be Leo. He’s wearing the watch I bought him for our anniversary. Which he forgot. I’m wearing the choker he bought me cos he forgot our anniversary. I really thought he was making an effort. Then Margaret called. A woman who spends more time with my husband than I do called me to remind me that Leo has to leave to meet with John Hoynes. Great. I made a phone call straight afterwards. The Watergate. There wasn’t a moment when I stopped loving him. There was a moment our marriage was doomed. When he drove over to Jed’s and told him to run for President. Leo will say what he always says – we decided together that he should get Jed Bartlet elected – and it’s true. But only in as far as there was no way on God’s earth that I could have stopped him. If I’d known our marriage was going to be the price I’d have to pay, I would have tried harder to change his mind. It wouldn’t have worked, but at least I’d have felt better. But I was too worried about Leo to worry about our marriage. He was finding it hard, doing without the alcohol. And the pills. So when we discussed it, I just smiled and said little or nothing to dissuade him. Because I never thought he’d do it. I should have known better. Abbey is lucky. She has an identity. She is still Dr Bartlet, the First Lady. I’m just Leo McGarry’s wife. I’ve even heard people refer to me that way when I was standing ten feet away from them. And him. He’s here. I can see the car pulling up. And he has to walk past the cab I’ve called. ***Later… He answers on the second ring. I don’t flatter myself that this is because he guessed it would be me. ‘Leo McGarry.’ ‘Leo.’ ‘Are you okay? I mean, do you need anything…money…’ He sounds even more exhausted than usual. ‘I’m fine Leo.’ One thing about having a man in the house sometimes too drunk to stand upright is that you become self-sufficient. ‘Jenny, is there…someone else?’ ‘Yes Leo. There is. Me.’ ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘For the first time in thirty years, I’m putting me first.’ Something you never did. ‘Jenny, please come home, this isn’t…hang on.’ I guess he’s dropped the phone on the bed because I can hear every word of his conversation with, well, probably Jed or Josh. ‘Jenny?’ He actually sounds worried that I’d have hung up. ‘I’m still here Leo.’ ‘Are you gonna tell Mal?’ What he really wants to know is have I already told her. ‘I thought we’d tell her together. Meet me for breakfast.’ ‘Where?’ ‘Here?’ Only because it’s easy for all three of us. ‘Okay.’ ‘Leo, it’s late.’ ‘Yeah. I’ll see you around seven.’ Or as near to it as he can get, which could be any time up to eight or later. ‘Yeah. I love you.’ ‘I’ll see you in the morning Leo.’ I just can’t bring myself to say the words. And I hear his breathing as he waits for me to say them. So I hang up. Because I can’t. Because I don’t. You didn’t have to bring me flowers Leo. But you have to care more about me than Jed Bartlet. And you don’t. End Home Send me feedback on this fic Return to the X-Files Fic Index Return to the West Wing Fic Index