Rating/Pairing: PG, Leo/Ainsley
Disclaimer: The West Wing is not mine, nor ever will be mine.
Spoilers: Post ep to "17 People"
Summary: Leo thinks about the events of 17 People and his relationship with Ainsley
Archive:On my site, The Band Gazebo Anywhere else, ask first
Feedback: Yes please!
Author's Notes: Eleventh in the Stolen Moments series; after Reports, Statistics and Divine Intervention, Of Divorces and Desserts, Cookies and Children's Choirs, Loose Lips, Of Peanuts and Lord Fauntleroy, A Bigger Night, More Than Like,Of Chopsticks and Cheese, Killing Time and Sewn Into The Fabric.

I see her when I'm walking down the hallway, but she doesn't see me. Which is fine with me. After the meeting with the President and Toby, I'm not really in the mood to talk with anyone. Not even her. That didn't stop me from going down to her office to see if she was there. She wasn't. All the lights were on, so I knew she hadn't left, and I had seen her in the Roosevelt Room earlier with Sam and Josh and the rest of them. I saw them when I closed the door to the Oval Office. There was laughing and joking, and they looked like they were having a whale of a time rewriting that speech.

What I wouldn't have given to be there with them.

When I see her, they're filing out of the room, and there's still chattering and laughing going on. Toby is the first one out, still obviously preoccupied. Even from here I can see the slight stoop of his shoulders, see the tiredness in him. If anyone else was watching, they'd think that he was just tired; after all, it's past one o'clock in the morning. But I know better. Josh and Donna are next out, walking down the hall side by side, talking about God knows what. Then Ainsley follows them, Sam following after her. Even from down the hall, I can tell that they're bickering again, and I wonder if it ever stops. Sam is gesturing wildly, and Ainsley's ponytail is bobbing back and forth as she shakes her head, and from the brief glimpse of her profile, I see that she's smiling. And for a brief second, I catch her head turning towards my office before she moves on.

That brief second is all that it takes to make me smile.

Not even the fact that she might have been looking for me too. But the seeing her. That's enough for me. That's all it takes to lift my spirits, to make a bad day slightly more bearable.

It's been a hell of an evening, and I know that things are only going to get worse from here on in. Toby's the first of the Senior Staff to know, but he's not going to be the last, and it's all going to come sooner rather than later. He was the first one of us to talk about lawyers, to consider the legal ramifications of what we were doing. I suppose I should have been the one to do that. Hell, I could've done my own research, put that law school education to good use. But I didn't.

Because I knew that Jed Bartlet was a good man, and that he'd make a good President. I told him that way back when, on a freezing cold October night in front of a VFW Hall in Nashua. "They say a good man can't get elected President. I don't believe that. Do you?" I asked him. And I told him that I thought that he was that man, telling him that this was the time of Jed Bartlet, that he was going to open his mouth and lift whole houses clear off the ground.

Well, this is the time of Jed Bartlet, and I've seen a lot of flying houses in the two years that we've been in this building.

Even when I found out, even when Abbey told me, I never regretted the things I did to get the two of us here. I wish he'd been able to tell me, but I understand why he didn't. I understand why he didn't tell the American people.

He wanted to be President.

And even if he had told me, I think I would've told him to keep it to himself.

Because I wanted him to be President.

I don't regret getting him here. Anything I did, I'd do again, with or without the extra knowledge.

But standing in that room tonight, listening to Toby, seeing the look on his face, I saw the future. CJ, Sam, Josh - their sense of moral outrage isn't going to be less than Toby's. In fact, Toby might just be the calm before the storm. Josh and Sam have fought their own demons this year and then some, and CJ already feels like we leave her out of the loop half the time. This is going to kill them all.

Shock. Betrayal. Confusion. Concern about our future.

Those are the reactions that I listed earlier on tonight.

I didn't count on anger.

I didn't count on lawyers.

It won't come to the worst case scenario. It won't come to impeachment. No-one was asked to lie. No-one did lie. No-one committed any felonies here. We just kept some things to ourselves. We're not the first to do it.

A deception of massive proportions Toby called it.

And I can't tell him that he's right. But I'm not so sure he's wrong either.

But he'll run.

I'm sure of that. He will run and he will win. I know it.

But I can't get the look in Toby's eyes out of my head. The hurt, the shock, the betrayal.

And the anger in his voice.

And he's one of us. One of our own, one of the inner circle. If he's reacting like that, if he's thinking resignation and impeachment, then what will the American people think? What will our enemies think?

That Christmas has come early.

We'll try to control it. We'll try to spin it our way. We'll do everything we can to keep this from becoming a bigger thing than it is. But as I know from personal experience, that only works for so long. I went to rehab on the condition of anonymity and I still ended up splashed all over the papers, reading a speech to a packed press room explaining the situation. And I'm only the Chief of Staff. Sure, I'm a big name in Washington, but how many people across the US knew my name before that story broke?

This is the President.

But I can't think about that stuff now. I'm have to think about my best friend and my kids. Because that's what the Senior Staff are like to me now. I have to think about how best to cushion the fall for them.

But all I can think of is her.

When I first offered her the job here, she was indignant. Furious. Stood up and argued in opposition. I've seen her attitude change over the past few months, and I'm not even sure if she realises it herself. I saw her face when she met the President, I saw her afterwards, heard her call him a nice man, heard the awe and respect in her voice. Respect for the man, not just for the office. From a conservative Republican for a Democratic President. Anyone want to research when was the last time that happened?

And then I picture her face tonight, the glimpse that I saw of it in the Roosevelt Room. She was smiling and laughing, trading Chinese food cartons with Donna. She was in the thick of the action, and I knew that there were probably ten people talking at once in there, and she was holding her own with the best of them and having a ball doing it.

I was so proud of her.

And all I can think of is what the look on her face is going to be like when she finds out. Just like Toby, she's going to be feel hurt, and betrayed and angry. And just like Toby, she'll probably scream and shout and rant and rave. And just like Toby, she's going to wonder about the legal ramifications of everything.

But unlike Toby, she's not one of ours.

We don't talk about politics. And we've had our issues about partisanship, after the leadership breakfast and the emails last week. But it's never been a big thing between us. In whatever this thing is that's between us.

But I have the feeling that it's going to be.

Toby is one of our guys. He's fought with us, fought for us. Ainsley doesn't have that kind of loyalty to this White House, and I'm not sure if she has that much loyalty to me.

I could very easily lose her over this, and that thought scares me more than anything else that I've thought this night.

I've lost a lot in my life, picked myself up from a lot of stuff. I survived when my dad killed himself. Survived Vietnam. Survived drug and alcohol abuse. Survived my wife leaving me. Survived the world finding out about me, survived calls for my resignation and a media blitz. During each and every one of those incidents, it felt like my life was falling apart. And after each and every one of those incidents, I picked myself up, and picked up the pieces of my life and put myself back together again. And if all of this, everything Jed and I have worked for, falls apart, if, God forbid, Toby's fears come true and the worst does happen, I know that I can pick myself up, pick up the pieces of my life. I've done it before, I can do it again.

But I don't want to pick up the pieces of my life without her being one of them.

The impact of that realisation has me leaning against the wall, and I shake my head to clear it, knowing that I should head home. I've got to be back in here in a few hours, and any crisis can wait until then. In the car, I think of what tomorrow's going to be like, and wonder if I'll be able to look anyone in the face. Wonder if any of them will realise that something's wrong by looking at me and Toby, wonder what the atmosphere at Staff will be like. Wonder if I'll see Ainsley, before I remember that she has that thing at Smith and is going to be gone for a couple of days.

The thought simultaneously relieves and depresses me. Because on the one hand, I'm not going to have to lie to her, or avoid her, while on the other, I won't get to see her, even from afar.

The ride passes before I know it, and I'm standing at the steps of my apartment before I realise that I don't want to go in there. My body turns of its own accord and my feet begin the walk that I know so well, finding the coffeehouse that Ainsley and I regularly visit, finding it almost deserted at this late hour, finding our table free. I drop into my seat and lean back in the chair, watching the waitresses walk and smile and chat to one another. I know from experience that they're going to be here until the early hours of the morning, yet they never look tired. We've come here so often that I know which waitress works this station, and I catch her looking over at me a couple of times, and casting her eyes to the door immediately after.

It takes a while for the penny to drop, then I remember that we're creatures of habit.

I raise my hand to beckon her over and the faintly guilty and apologetic look on her face makes me smile inwardly. "Can I get a cappuccino here please?" I ask her.

She dutifully writes down the order, although I know that she didn't need to. Maybe she's just trying to make it real for herself. She looks towards the door once again, then to the empty chair across from me, biting her lip the whole time. She takes half a step away, then stops, opening her mouth a couple of times before she speaks. "Will there be anything else?"

I know what she's asking and shake my head. "No. I'm on my own tonight."

Her face falls, and there's sympathy in her eyes, for what reason I'm not sure. But she rallies quickly and nods before she goes to get my order. I look at the empty chair across from me, and allow myself a moment to picture Ainsley there, eyes ever bright, smiling across the table at me. Then I blink and the spell is broken and the chair is empty again.

I might be getting used to that sight very soon.

My train of thought is broken when the waitress comes back, cappuccino in one hand, and a small box in the other. I look at her puzzled when she puts both down on the table. "One cappuccino," she tells me, and I hand her enough to cover it. She begins to walk away, and I call after her.

"I didn't…" I indicate the box, but she shakes her head, coming back to the table, leaning in so that she can't be overheard.

"On the house," she tells me. I must still look puzzled, because her gaze shifts to the box. "They keep pretty good in the freezer." Then she winks and walks away.

I can only stare after her, before I turn back and peek into the box. When I do, I smile, my first genuine smile of the evening. Inside, side by side, are one slice of cheesecake and one slice of chocolate fudge cake.

They keep pretty good in the freezer, she said. So I can put them in there, wait for a while, then take them out later.

Sounds like a sign to me.

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