Rating: PG
Spoilers: Not really.
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: "So, what are your plans for Christmas Margaret?" "With Ebenezer McGarry in there, I'll probably spend most of the day working."
Author's Note: That funny little whirring sound you hear? It's Charles Dickens, spinning in his grave.

The tree was lit, the halls were decked, and Christmas carols were once more being played in the lobby of the White House. Thankfully for many of the staff, Toby Ziegler had agreed to forgo the brass bands and bagpipes that he had once upon a time inflicted upon them, instead opting for a string quartet. Rumour had it that CJ had threatened him with grievous bodily harm should he attempt anything else, and that rumour alone might have accounted for the large number of presents that had found their way into her office.

One place notably lacking in the Christmas spirit was in Margaret's office, and that was the reason that she was complaining to the Senior Staff as they hung around her office on Christmas Eve morning, trying to kill a few minutes of the day because they didn't actually want to do much work, unless an emergency came up.

"He's absolutely unbelievable," she told them, frustration evident in every word. "I write his cards, I chose his presents, I wrap his presents and send them, and yet, can I have even a little miniature tree on my desk? Can I mention anything to do with Christmas without having my head bitten off?"

Her misery seemed to cause hilarity among the staff, many of whom were stifling smiles. "C'mon Margaret, he's like this every year," Josh told her. "The man doesn't do Christmas."

Margaret shook her head. "I know that Josh. But it's worse than usual this year. Don't tell me you haven't noticed it."

Shrugs were exchanged among the staff. "Can't say as I have." It was Toby who spoke.

Margaret huffed and shook her head, and she might have said something had Sam not piped up with, "So what are your Christmas plans Margaret?"

She cast a glance towards the office. "With Ebenezer McGarry in there, I'll probably spend most of the day working."

"Don't do that," Sam told her. "Come over to my place. We're all staying there tonight, and cooking dinner tomorrow."

Margaret perked up at that. "Who's going?" she wondered.

CJ was nodding her head. "You have to come…help me to even up the numbers."

"Donna's coming," Josh told her.

"The four of us," Sam added. "And Ainsley. And speak of the devil…"

"Hey guys." Ainsley's smile was bright and cheery. "What are you all doing here?"

"Killing time," CJ groaned, checking the clock on the wall, hoping against hope that time had flown in the few minutes between checks.

"You're still coming tonight, right Ainsley?" Sam double-checked.

"Hmm?" Ainsley was looking at the door with no small amount of trepidation. "Oh, sure Sam." She turned to Margaret, her best smile on and Southern charm in full effect. "Margaret, can you give these to Leo for me please? It's the data he wanted on 913."

Margaret raised an eyebrow. "Don't want to see him huh?" If Ainsley looked panicked at the words, Margaret didn't call her on it, just reached out and snatched the folder. "Can't say as I blame you." The folder went down onto her desk. "I'll give it to him." At that moment, the yell of her name from inside made them all jump, and she smiled hastily and took the folder up again. "Now."

Having heard the yell, the rest of them decided that they had better places to be, and promptly went there.

>*<*>*<

When the door closed behind Margaret, Leo opened the folder that she'd given him, then threw it back down on the table, an expression of utter disgust on his face. It was nothing to do with the data, nothing to do with the bill or even, as Margaret had thought, the time of the year, not really.

It had much more to do with what he'd just overheard.

She couldn’t have known that the door was slightly ajar, just enough that their voices had carried through. None of them could have, he knew that. Didn't change what they'd said. Didn't change the fact that it was true. He had been grumpier than usual lately; he knew it, but he couldn't stop himself. Didn't want to stop himself.

It wasn't the job that was doing it. Wasn't the hours or the politicking. It wasn't even that he felt he was in imminent danger of falling off the wagon. It was just Christmas. Everyone was walking around with smiles and plans and presents and people they loved. He had his job. He had Margaret, who was probably planning to poison his plum pudding for the way he'd been treating her. He had Mallory, who was planning to spend Christmas with Richard's family. And while the President had invited him to spend Christmas with the First Family, as he'd done every year since his divorce, this year, the thought of a happy family Christmas was almost more than he could stand.

Ghostly echoes of his own voice rebounded in his mind, words he'd said, sentiments he'd meant, but hadn't known would be so hard to live with. The memory of waking in a bed that wasn't his own, looking down at her, knowing that this was all wrong, knowing that this shouldn't have happened, that it could never happen again, but wanting it to more than anything.

And she was going to now, wasn't she? It was well known among most of the White House staff that Sam was crazy about her. And now she was going to his place for Christmas. The beginning of a beautiful relationship? He was surprised to find that a pang of jealousy flared up in him at the notion, and closed his eyes, shaking his head to clear both the thought and the memory, finding instead that doing so only made clearer the image of a deep blue bathrobe, long blonde hair, tear-filled eyes. Hurt and frustration had radiated from her.

Her accent had been more pronounced, the tears making her voice wobble tremulously. But neither that, nor the sight of her standing there, arms wrapped around her middle protectively had been enough to make him stay.

The door had closed behind him, and as he walked down a hall that wasn't his own, down a street that wasn't his own, he hadn't looked back.

And he wasn't going to start now he told himself affirmatively. He was going to get back to work, he was going to read his reports, and he wasn't going to think about Christmas or anything else.

Or anyone else.

And that was just what he did. Didn't look up, didn't stir from his chair. And no-one came to see him, perhaps having heard of his more Scrooge-like qualities. He only looked up once when Margaret came in, placing a cup of punch and some cake down on his desk. "I'm heading off now."

It was her words that made him look up. "That time already?"

"Mmm-hmmm." She pointed at the plate and cup on his desk. "I brought you some stuff…you going to be here long?"

He waved a hand at the stacks of paper on his desk. "Probably. Where are you heading?"

"Sam's. Everyone's going to be there, we're all staying over too, making dinner tomorrow..." She opened her mouth, closed it again before she spoke. "Sam told me to remind you that you're welcome."

He nodded, Sam having told him the same thing a couple of days before. "Nah. I'm just gonna head home when I'm done here."

"OK. If you change your mind…"

"I won't." His head was already bent, his concentration back on the papers.

"OK then." Had he been listening carefully, he would have heard the doubt in her voice as she moved towards the door. "Merry Christmas."

"You too."

When he next looked up, he was alone in his office again.

He worked until the other door opened, and a soft footfall bespoke of a familiar presence. "Leo," the familiar voice said. "It's Christmas Eve, the lid is on. Why are you still here?"

"Because we still have a country to run Mr President, and no matter what you believe, it won't do it itself." His voice was dry when he spoke, but he did put down his pen and lean back in his chair.

"But it's Christmas." The President put on his best cajoling voice. "Put that away, come on over to the Residence. I promise, no chilli, no Christmas trivia."

One corner of Leo's mouth quirked up in a crooked smile. "As hard an offer as that is to refuse..."

A disgusted snort came from the other side of the desk. "Leo, you are my best friend and I love you. But I really don't understand you." There was no response, so he continued with, "You'll come over for dinner tomorrow, right?"

"Probably." Leo's tone was non-committal, and he was looking everywhere but at the President.

"That means no."

"That means probably."

The President sighed and shook his head. "You know where we are."

The door closed behind him, but Leo didn't hear it. He was already lost in his papers, trying to shut out the world.

>*<*>*<

He succeeded in shutting out the world, at least for the next few hours. When he next looked up from his papers, it was dark outside, and looking out the window, a light snow had begun to fall. He stood, intending to go and get some coffee, groaning when his body protested at the exertion. A walk through the halls of the West Wing assured him that he was one of the last people there; the only others he encountered being security staff. When he got to the mess, he saw to his dismay that the coffee percolator was empty, and he shook his head. "First time for everything." His voice sounded loud in the empty room, and the faintest hint of an echo bounced back to him. A shiver rang up his spine and he shook his head again, wondering when he got so superstitious. There was nothing for it he supposed but to go back to his office, finish the last of the reports and head home for the night.

That was his plan, and all was going well until he got back to his office and sat down. Whether it was the hour, or the absence of coffee, his eyes felt heavy, his limbs heavier still, and he found himself leaning back in his chair slightly, his eyelids drooping…

He awoke with a start when the door between his and the Oval Office banged shut, and he looked up to see a very looking angry President in front of him. Leo sat up straighter right away, trying to make it look like he hadn't been asleep, his addled brain knowing that there'd be hell to pay if Jed thought that he was sleeping in the office when there were any number of spare rooms at the Residence.

"Mr President, what are you doing here?" It was a good opening parry he decided, considering the situation at hand, considering that Jed Bartlet was glowering at him like he'd glower at one of his own children who had done something naughty.

"Why don't you stow the Mr President crap for the moment Leo, and listen to me?" The President sounded as angry as he looked, and Leo raised his eyebrows.

"Sir?"

"Don't Sir me, I don't need your Sirs. Look at you Leo…sleeping in the office…having nowhere to go at Christmas, although it's not for the want of invitations …Sam …me …Mallory…"

Leo frowned. "How do you know Mal asked me to go with her…"

The President threw up his hands. "I know everything Leo, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

Leo frowned, squinting at him in the dim light. There was something about him, something different about the way he looked…he wasn't wearing a suit, instead preferring jeans and a Notre Dame sweatshirt, his preferred off-duty clothing, but there was something about the way he moved, something about the way he spoke. This wasn't the Jed Bartlet he was used to. "Mr President, are you feeling all right?"

The President shook his head. "Leo, Leo, Leo…. haven't you figured it out by now? I'm not the President."

"I know, I know." Leo waved a hand in the air dismissively. "You're my best friend and you love me and you don't want me sitting alone at Christmas…"

He stopped when he realised that the President was shaking his head, a tiny smile playing about his lips. "Nope…not that either."

Leo leaned back, wondering if he'd been mixing his back pills again, and if Abbey knew about it. "Then who are you?"

"I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past."

Leo stared at him for a moment in shock, not really knowing what to say to that. Then he began to laugh, unable to hold it in. He hadn't laughed in a long time he realised when he calmed down somewhat, and it felt good to do it again. He was gratified to see Jed smiling, but it didn't stop him reaching for the phone. "I'm calling Abbey."

"Don't do that." Jed's voice stopped him with his hand over the phone.

"You want me to bring you over to the Residence?" Just like Jed, he realised as he made the offer, to say something so off the wall, so unusual, to break down his defences, to make him do just what Jed wanted him to do.

"No." Jed shook his head again. "I've somewhere else in mind."

Leo couldn't explain what happened next. One minute he was in his office, talking to the President. The next, his office had disappeared and he was standing in a street, surrounded by houses, all with lights in the windows, twinkling tiny multicoloured stars shining through the glass. There was a light snow falling, flakes of it settled on his jacket, on his hair, but he didn't feel cold. Beside him, Jed stood, that mysterious smile on his face.

"Didn't believe me, did you?"

Leo turned a disbelieving stare on him. "Where are we?"

A raise of an eyebrow was his only answer. "Don't you recognise it?"

Leo looked around him, making a slow three hundred and sixty-degree turn. Now that he looked, it did look familiar. Over there was the tree that he and Richie Walker had climbed when they were seven, and Richie had fallen and they'd thought that he'd broken his arm. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, and he knew that it was Mrs Gunnerson's Labrador, probably wanting someone to take it for a walk. He saw cars that he hadn't seen for years, and completing the circle, he found himself standing in front of a driveway, in front of a house that he knew well. Just as he remembered it, children's bicycles rested on the porch, a Christmas wreath hung on the door, and a Christmas tree blazed in the window.

He knew this house - he'd grown up in it.

He turned to Jed now, his breathing ragged. "Where are we?"

"Why don't we take a closer look?"

In the blink of an eye, the outside landscape disappeared, and they found themselves in a family living room, the Christmas tree in the corner surrounded by presents, the mantelpiece heaving under the weight of Christmas cards. Books and toys were scattered all around the room, and in the middle, gathered around the coffee table, making popcorn chains for the tree were three children.

Himself, Josie and Elizabeth.

He took a sharp breath, watching as the banter flew between the three of them, watching as the girls tried to eat more of the popcorn than they actually strung, watching his younger self berate them, ever the watchful older brother. Then the door swung open, and his mother came in, a tray in her hand, milk and cookies for everyone, and the four of them sat around the table, stringing popcorn and laughing, the perfect picture of the American dream.

"Oh God, make it stop."

The prayer was simple and straight from the heart, because he knew what was going to happen next, knew how this was going to end. And he wanted it to stop because he didn't want to go through it again, and yet, he didn't want it to stop because he wanted to remember them all as they were then, a time when they were happy, when they were together.

Then car lights shone in from outside, there was the sound of a car door closing, and a pall seemed to fall over the room. The easy laughter vanished, flushed cheeks paled, lines reappeared around Mom's pursed mouth. There came the sound of the front door flying open, the familiar sound of it slamming, footsteps coming down the hall, and his father entered the room.

Leo hadn't felt the cold when he was outside, nor could he feel the heat of the fire blazing in the fireplace. But he could smell the stench of alcohol on his old man's breath, and some part of his mind that was observing this dispassionately wondered if he could really smell the alcohol, or if his memory was filling in the blanks. The larger part of him, the part of him that wanted to leave now, to go somewhere, anywhere to get away from this, once again begged, "Make it stop."

But Jed, if that's who it was, was immovable. "No."

So he watched it happen again. Watched the girls cower in terror, their stringing forgotten. Watched them scream as his father sent the bowl of popcorn flying, the milk and cookies falling onto the carpet, a white stain spreading that he knew his mother was going to spend hours trying to remove, and even then, the smell would permeate the house for days. Heard their running footsteps as they did as Mom told them and went to their rooms, where he would find them later, huddling in tears in each others arms. He saw himself, standing between his mom and dad, saw himself flying across the room as Dad hit him, saw his eye turn a livid shade of red. Saw the first blow to Mom, heard her muffled cries, because she never screamed, no matter how severe the beating, because she didn't want to scare the kids, didn't want to alert the neighbours.

It was only the first blow that he saw because he turned his head away, unable to look at that, and he felt Jed's hand on his shoulders, heard the words, "That's enough."

When he opened his eyes, they were standing outside again, and some detached part of him noted that this was a different street. He turned to Jed, and his voice sounded hoarse and ragged. "What the hell…"

"Christmas Past," was the only answer he got. "You need to see where you came from. Because it's only then that you can see where you've got to."

Leo raised an eyebrow. "For a ghost, you've got a lousy turn of phrase, you know that?"

"We're not finished here," Jed told him. "Not yet."

Leo blinked and another room swam into focus, and again, he knew exactly where he was, could make a good guess as to when he was. It was the house that he and Jenny had lived in for the better part of their married life, and Jenny's impeccable decorating style was shown off to its greatest effect with the Christmas decorations. Everything was perfectly colour co-ordinated, in silver and red, the presents under the tree giving splashes of vibrant colour to the room. Cards were on the mantel, and red and silver baubles adorned the tree. He was looking around when the door opened, and in walked Jenny and Mallory. His breath caught as he looked at them. Mallory was ten, he knew that without asking, knew from the length of her hair, from how tall she was. And Jenny…God, she was beautiful as she smiled down at her daughter, warning her with a smile not to trip and spill the popcorn all over the carpet, being careful herself not to drop her tray of milk and cookies.

Tears came to Leo's eyes as he watched them, twin red heads almost touching as they sat down on the floor around the table and began to string popcorn chains for the tree, sharing stories and jokes, every now and then breaking into Christmas songs.

Then the lights of a car shone in the window, and the laughter stopped. And the front door opened, and footsteps came down the hall, and Mallory got pale, and lines appeared on Jenny's face. And then he himself came into the room, and Leo could smell the alcohol from where he was. And there was a sick twisting in his stomach as he watched himself kiss Jenny and Mallory hello, seeing the revulsion, the disgust on their faces. The apprehension as he sat down with them and began to string popcorn, all the while trying to string a sentence together and failing at both. And when his patience ran out, he saw the popcorn flying across the room as he pushed the bowl aside, upsetting the milk and cookies as well, and the white stain spread across the carpet. And Mallory's chin wobbled as she stared at him, and he reached out a hand, intending to comfort her, and she recoiled from him before running to her room. And he looked at Jenny, to see the fury and the pity and the contempt in her eyes, and he pushed himself up, staggering to his study, where he'd find some comfort of the Southern variety. The door closed behind him, and Jenny laid her head in her hands, and she wept.

And just when Leo thought that he couldn't take anymore, the surroundings dissolved around him, and he was outside again, and he turned to Jed, short of breath, still with that sick feeling in his stomach. "Seen enough?" Jed asked him.

All Leo could do was nod numbly. "We've all come such a long way…" he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else, but Jed answered him anyway.

"Yeah…so why not go a little further?"

He patted Leo on the shoulder….

…. And Leo woke up in his office chair, gasping for breath.

>*<*>*<

He ran a hand over his face as he tried to catch his breath, realising when he took his hand down that it was shaking. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and he had to touch his desk, the arms of his chair, the smooth silver of the pen Mallory had given him for his fiftieth birthday before he was convinced that he was awake, that he was back in his office.

"That was some dream." His voice sounded shaky to his own ears, but speaking out loud seemed to have calmed his fears somewhat, because his heart rate began to slow down, the shaking began to subside. Still though, it had been quite some dream; he'd never experienced one quite that vivid before, or at least not for quite some time. And even then, they'd been straight nightmares, where he'd been back in the middle of the event, not as an observer, not standing beside a President purporting to be the Ghost of Christmas Past.

He shook his head as he thought of that image, his mind's eye conjuring up the image of the President in front of him, telling him that. He must've been taking in the Christmas ambience without even knowing it.

He was picking up the report that had scattered to the floor while he slept when he became aware of footsteps in the outer office. "Who's out there?" he called, all the while sorting the report into some semblance of order. He didn't look up when he heard the door open, didn't look up at the footsteps crossing his floor. He only looked up when a pair of feet appeared in front of him. His gaze moved slowly upwards, past the familiar black skirt and jacket, up to the familiar red hair, pursed lips and disapproving gaze of his assistant.

"We should put a bell on you or something," he grumbled, fully expecting a lecture from her about his work habits and lack of sleep and Christmas spirit. Instead, she just shook her head. "I thought you were out of here," he told her when he stood up.

She shrugged. "I thought you needed me here."

He looked around his office, the reports, the papers. "Nah. You should go back to Sam's."

"Why don't you come with me?"

"Nah. I'll just head home."

Margaret grinned. "Wrong answer."

With that, the office dissolved around them, and Leo found himself standing on a street, looking up at a Georgetown brownstone. He'd never been here before, but that wasn't his chief concern as he turned to look at Margaret with an expression of what could only be described as abject horror on his face. "Not. Again."

Those two words made Margaret grin, and her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Sorry."

"Let me guess." Leo's voice was dry, having worked out that he was still dreaming. "The Ghost of Christmas Present, right?"

"Got it in one. Fancy taking a closer look?"

"Not really, but you're gonna show me anyway, right?"

"See? You're catching on."

Margaret's voice made the slow dissolve easier to take, and he found himself standing in Sam's living room, as most of his Senior Staff were gathered around the coffee table. A game of Trivial Pursuit was in full swing, the gang having divided into teams, Margaret and Donna, Josh and Sam, CJ and Toby. Toby had evidently just got a particularly impossible question right, because Josh and Sam were howling in protest and accusing him of cheating, to which he merely raised his drink in salute to them.

Josh threw back his head, catching a peanut in his mouth effortlessly. "I still like my idea better." He looked surprised when Margaret, CJ and Donna all threw peanuts at his head. "What?"

"Forget it Joshua," CJ told him.

"We are not playing strip Trivial Pursuit," Donna agreed.

"It was just a suggestion," Josh protested, but wisely decided to drop the subject. "Hey, where'd Ainsley get to?"

"She's supervising the latest batch of cookies," Margaret told him, and it was then that Leo noticed that she looked to have white patches in her hair.

"Of which there would be more if you guys hadn't decided to throw a flour fight," CJ told them. "What are you, ten?"

Sam chose to let that slide, concentrating on what he evidently felt was a greater danger. "We left Ainsley alone with cookies? Guys, we do want to actually have cookies, right?"

Donna shook her head, laughing at him. "I'll check on him. Keep an eye on those two," she told Margaret, gesturing to Josh and Sam. "They cheat."

A predictable round of do-nots and heckling ensued, but Donna didn't look back as she vanished into Sam's kitchen, and the ghostly Margaret followed her. Leo had to blink when she floated through the wall as if it wasn't there, and his heart gave an unwelcome little judder as her head popped back through, followed by an arm as she gestured to him to come in as well.

When he did, and he really didn't want to dwell on how odd it was to actually be able to walk through walls, he found Donna just sitting down at the kitchen table. Ainsley was already sitting there, a glass of milk in front of her, but a full plate of cookies in front of her.

"I'm surprised there's any left," Donna teased her lightly, but Leo knew Donna well enough to see the worry in her eyes, to hear the question in her voice.

"I'm not really hungry," Ainsley told her, and Donna's eyebrows flew up. Leo's followed suit. Ainsley's appetite was the stuff of White House legend, especially when it came to all things sweet.

That seemed to be the catalyst for Donna to move into full concerned friend mode. She reached across the table, laying her hand on top of Ainsley's. "Ainsley, what's wrong?" Ainsley looked up at her, eyes wide in surprise. "I know that something is…you've been so quiet, so withdrawn…you're not acting like yourself."

Ainsley shrugged. "It's just that time of the year I guess. I'm tired. Kinda wishing I'd gone home for the holidays."

"Why didn't you?"

For some reason, a flood of red stained Ainsley's cheeks. "I…that is to say…I thought that maybe…" Her voice trailed off.

"Is it to do with a guy?" Again, Ainsley looked up at her, and now it was Donna's turn to blush. "I’m not prying…it's just…I know that look on your face. I've been there. Many times." She threw a glance over her shoulder, and Leo knew who she was thinking of. "And I think it might help you…if you wanted to talk that is…"

Ainsley chewed her lip for a moment, then took a deep breath. "OK…. there is a guy. Was, I suppose. And there's not anymore."

"And this wasn't your idea."

Ainsley shook her head. "No. I wanted us to carry on. He didn't."

Across the room, Leo shifted uncomfortably, remembering her in her blue bathrobe and bare feet, tears glistening in her eyes as he walked out the door. A pang of guilt twisted in his stomach as he saw for the first time the effect that that had had on her. He hadn't seen her since it happened, save for a couple of glances from afar, walking down the corridor, or in the mess. Even the report that she'd given to Margaret earlier on that day had been assigned to her before that night, and any changes or instructions had been sent via email or Margaret. Looking at her now, he could see the strain on her face, the dark circles under her eyes, and it looked even to his unobservant eye as if she'd lost weight. He snuck a peek at Margaret beside him, only to see that she was giving him the look of death.

"How long were you two together?" Donna was all sympathy now.

"It's complicated," Ainsley sighed. "I liked him from afar for a long time. A long time. And I never thought…you know?" Donna nodded, a sad smile on her face. "And then, I started to notice things…that he said to me, the way he'd look at me sometimes…."

"You got the good vibe," Donna supplied helpfully.

"Yep. And we went out one night. And the next morning, he told me that it was a huge mistake." Tears spilled down Ainsley's cheeks as she spoke, and she pushed them away impatiently. "That there was no future for us and it could never happen again. And I haven't heard from him since."

From where he was standing, Leo could see Donna squeezing Ainsley's hand, could see the anger on her face. "He's a jerk Ainsley." Leo supposed he should have been offended, but he couldn't disagree with her. The knowledge of what he'd done, what he'd said, had been with him ever since he'd left Ainsley's apartment, and he felt even worse now, seeing the effect that this had had on her.

"Yeah. I know." Ainsley's voice was no more than a whisper, but she looked up at Donna as she continued. "But I'm still crazy about him."

Donna was looking over at her, shaking her head, her eyes brimming with sympathetic tears. She stood up, going over to Ainsley, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, giving her a comforting hug. As Leo watched, he could see Ainsley's lip wobbling, could see her bite it. Could see her close her eyes then and go very quietly to pieces, sobbing silently in her friend's arms.

He turned to Margaret, finding the look of death replaced by one of sympathy. "I've seen enough here."

"You sure?" He gave her his own look of death and she nodded hastily. "OK." In the blink of an eye, they were outside Sam's place again, and he found himself looking up into the lit window.

"Is she gonna be ok?" he asked.

Margaret raised an eyebrow, staring at him archly. "What do you think? You broke her heart Leo."

"I was trying to do what's best for her."

"Well, you know what they say about good intentions."

Leo nodded. "They pave the road to hell."

"It's not too late." Margaret's voice was hopeful. "You heard what she said in there. You could still fix things."

Leo considered it, then shook his head. "Nah. She'll get over this." He glanced over his shoulder at the window. "Sam'll help her with that."

"If that's what you think."

"Yeah. It's for the best." Leo nodded to himself, wondering who he was trying to convince. "So, where to next?"

When he turned to ask the question, he found himself alone on the sidewalk. "Margaret?" he called.

The sound of his own voice woke him up.

>*<*>*<

He sat quietly for a second, waiting, for what, he didn't know. There were no footsteps from outside, no sound of anyone calling his name, no sound of anyone looking for him. Which was to be expected he supposed, since only a skeleton staff was working at this hour of the night. Come to think of it, what time was it anyway?

"It's still before midnight."

He jumped a foot in his chair at the voice, his head whipping around to the comfortable chair beside the couch. He could feel the blood drain out of his face as he looked to see who was speaking, having recognised the voice as an impossibility.

"Mrs Landingham," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "Margaret didn't feel that she'd got through to you and she was feeling a little guilty about it. She's a good girl and she worries. You should be nicer to her." She gave him one of those looks that she used to give him all the time, when he used bad language in the Oval Office, or when she told him that sarcasm was the grumpy man's wit. "So, she asked me to come along."

"But you're…"

He couldn't quite finish the thought, but she gave him a jaunty little shrug. "Dead? I do know that dear, I was there. But you must have been expecting me." She raised an eyebrow at Leo's shaking head. "Oh come on Leo, you're an educated man, you read Dickens. You must know who I am."

Leo was nodding. "The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come."

"Good boy. I should give you a cookie for that." She stood up, smiling brightly. "Well, maybe later. Come on with me. We've a ways to go tonight."

This time, Leo was expecting the change in scenery. What he was surprised by was the fact that this time he didn't rematerialise outside somewhere. Instead he was inside a kitchen, the table bearing all the hallmarks of having just been used for breakfast. The radio was on, Christmas music blaring from it, and while Leo was looking around, trying to guess whose house he might be in, the door opened, and Ainsley walked in. "I should've known," he muttered to himself.

"Why don't you just listen?" Mrs Landingham reprimanded him, and he bit back whatever he had been going to say and looked at Ainsley.

She was obviously going out somewhere - she had a long coat draped over one arm, and she was putting her earrings in her ear as she carried on a conversation with someone who must have been following her down the hall. She was wearing dark trousers and a bright red jumper, her hair still long, falling down her back. Leo's fingers itched as he recalled just how soft and silky that hair was before he fought down the image. She looked older, which he expected since they were seeing the future after all, but not that much older, and he found himself wondering how much time had passed.

"I'm doing some last minute shopping, and meeting Donna and CJ for lunch," she said to whomever it was she was talking to. "I'll be back by the middle of the afternoon, I promise."

The door swung open as she was finishing her sentence, and Leo felt bile rise up in his throat. Sam still looked exactly the same as he did now; the years hadn't changed him a bit, and he stepped up behind Ainsley now, his arms going around his waist, and he kissed the side of her neck as she smiled. "It's just…it's Christmas Eve. A time for family."

She turned in his arms, smiling up at him. "And if I don't do my last minute shopping, how happy do you think tomorrow morning will be? Besides, you're going to be doing the man thing with Josh…it's not like you'll be pining after me all day."

"Of course I will." Sam and Ainsley kissed then, and Leo had to look away.

"I thought this is what you wanted," the quiet voice beside him reminded him, and he couldn't say anything, because she was right. He had wanted Ainsley to get on with her life, to forget about him and find someone her own age. He'd even suspected that it'd be Sam. He didn't expect it to hurt this much though.

His thoughts were interrupted when the kitchen door opened, and two little boys came through. Both were miniature versions of Sam, and Sam and Ainsley jumped apart when they heard the door. One of the little boys looked to be about five, the other couldn't have been more than three. The five-year-old had the three-year-old by the hand, and was looking up at Ainsley with suspicion. "Mommy, where are you going?"

She let go of Sam and squatted down in front of him. "I'm going to see Aunt CJ and Aunt Donna. But I'll be back soon."

The smaller child perked up at that. "Me go too?"

Ainsley laughed softly. "No Kevin, you have to stay here with Daddy and Michael. But Uncle Josh is coming, so you can play with him."

Little Kevin was thus placated, and threw his arms around his mother's neck, Michael following suit. Ainsley hugged them both, kissing the tops of their heads, and Leo looked from that sight to Sam, the sight of the younger man's contented smile making his stomach churn. Then Leo had to blink again, because just for an instant, he was sure that he'd seen a flash of sadness in Sam's eyes. Then Ainsley stood up and kissed him quickly on the cheek and he was sure he'd imagined it. Sam hoisted both boys up in his arms and they went to wave Ainsley goodbye, leaving Leo and Mrs Landingham alone in the kitchen.

Leo took a deep breath, turning to the woman angrily. "This is what you wanted me to see?"

"Yep."

"She's done what I told her to do. She's moved on, she's happy. She's got a good life. What more do I need to see?"

Mrs Landingham didn't seem upset or worried by his words; then again, she never had. "Well, let's take a little look there, shall we?"

The change of scenery took Leo by surprise, and he was surprised to see that they'd ended up in the back of a station wagon, driven by Ainsley. There were children's toys and books thrown on the back seat, and the radio was blaring more Christmas tunes, and Ainsley was singing along. She didn't have a bad voice he noted idly; right now it was "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." As he listened though, he realised that her voice was getting breathier, that she seemed to be having trouble with some of the words. It was when they got to the lyrics "Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow," that he realised what the problem was.

She was crying.

No, he corrected, not crying. Sobbing. Sobbing so hard that she had to pull off the road, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shook.

Leo, mystified, turned to Mrs Landingham, who was shaking her head at his amazement. "Just like a man," she tutted. "Never looking past the obvious."

The surroundings shifted again, and Leo found himself and Mrs Landingham standing to the side, looking on as Donna and CJ and Ainsley talked over their lunch. Both CJ and Donna looked well, and he was pleased to see that Ainsley had recovered her equilibrium. She was laughing happily with the other two ladies, her smile lighting up the room. As Leo watched, she stood up, still laughing and put on her coat, exchanging hugs and kisses with the other women, before leaving.

A shove on his back courtesy of Mrs Landingham meant that he was closer to the table, close enough to hear what CJ was saying. "She looks happy."

He couldn't disagree, even having seen what he'd seen in the car, but Donna's lips were pursed, her brow furrowed and she looked doubtfully at CJ. "You think?"

"Yeah." CJ's tone showed the tiniest hint of doubt now too. "She always looks happy at Christmas."

"Too happy." Donna's tone was flat, and CJ nodded in agreement.

"Too cheery," she observed. There were simultaneous sighs before CJ continued. "Did she ever talk about it with you?"

Donna shook her head. "No. I'm not blocking you CJ," she protested at CJ's frankly sceptical look. "She doesn't. There was something, years ago, before she even got together with Sam, something about some gomer that she was crazy about. But she told me that she was over him when she started to date Sam. She told me that she loved him, that they were going to be happy."

"So you think she's still hung up on the other guy?"

Donna took a sip of her coffee. "I don't know. I mean, she was happy with Sam. When they got married. I'm not making that up right?"

"No…no you're not. I don't know when things changed for her."

"I do. It was right after we left office. When they moved to California for the year. When they came back…"

"Everything was different." There was a shadow in CJ's eyes. "We were all different then."

"Yeah." Donna sighed too. "Yes, we were." She visibly shook herself before she continued. "Anyway, it was then."

"Do you think Sam knows?" CJ wondered.

"Part of me thinks how can he not? And then I remember that there's none so blind…" She broke off for a moment, shaking her head, eyes cast somewhere off to the right, above CJ's head. "But I hope not. He's so crazy about her CJ…it would kill him to know she's not happy."

"Yeah." CJ sighed again. "But how long do you think she can go on like this?"

"I think we're done here." Mrs Landingham's words broke into the silence that fell over the two women. "There's someone else we need to see."

Reality shifted and he was back in the kitchen where he'd first seen Sam and Ainsley together. He really hoped that he wasn't in for a repeat performance, because he didn't think he'd be able to handle it. Instead, he was greeted with a familiar sight - Sam and Josh sitting across the table from one another, engaged in a heated discussion.

"You're crazy." Josh waved a hand animatedly in disgust. "No way is what you're saying true."

Leo would have expected Sam to counter his words just as animatedly, with just as much passion. Instead, he just shook his head sadly, idly beating a teaspoon against the wooden tabletop. "I'm not wrong Josh. I know her. And she's not happy."

"Sam, Ainsley has everything that any woman could possibly want. Why would-"

"Yeah, everything." Sam didn't raise his voice, but his quiet tone silenced Josh, and Leo held his breath, waiting for what would come next. "A good career, good friends, nice house. Two great kids that she adores. A husband who adores her. And I think that she might even be quite fond of me." There was no bitterness in Sam's tone, and the casual matter-of-factness made the words even more poignant to the listeners. "But she's not in love with me."

Josh sat in stunned silence for a moment, before laughing uncomfortably, a high, false sound that shattered the fragile silence of the room. "That's crazy Sam. Of course she loves you. She mar-"

"She loves me." Again, that quiet, resigned tone silenced Josh. "But she's not in love with me. Not like you and Donna. I see her every day, I live with her. I know." He seemed to find the teaspoon fascinating, rubbing at a non-existent spot on the handle as he spoke. "I always knew there was something missing. Some spark, something. Ever since we first began dating, I knew there was something bothering her. Someone bothering her. I just never wanted to see how much. I thought it'd go away, that she'd get over it. That one day, she'd love me as much as I love her." He laughed without humour. "But it's getting worse…it's getting harder for her. And I'm losing her, a little bit at a time."

"Sam…if she felt this way, why did she marry you?"

"Maybe she thought the same. That if she waited long enough, the other guy wouldn't be an issue anymore." Sam shrugged. "Guess we were both wrong, huh?" He tried a brave smile, but it disappeared too quickly to be convincing.

Josh let out a long breath. "So…what are you going to do?"

Sam met his gaze levelly. "I'm going to keep on doing what I've been doing. I'm going to love my wife and my kids. And I'm going to hope that that's enough to keep her." Surprise showed on Josh's face, and Sam took umbrage for the first time in the conversation. "Don't look at me like that Josh. You're the lucky one - the love of your life loved you back."

As the world dissolved around him, Leo reflected that that was the first time he'd ever seen Josh Lyman speechless.

Looking around him, he realised that he was outside once again, but this time, he realised dimly, he could feel the cold in the air. Mrs Landingham was still beside him, looking up at him with sympathy in her gaze. "See what your stubborn male pride's done?"

"I didn't know it would be like this," Leo whispered, the flash of pain that he thought he'd seen on Sam's face earlier in the morning making sense now.

"No, I know that." Mrs Landingham patted Leo's arm, but he didn't feel anything. "But it's happened now, and they both have to live with your choice." Leo opened his mouth to ask something, but she pointed to something over his shoulder. "There's still one more thing you have to see."

Turning around, Leo realised that they were in a graveyard. Further down the path, he could see Ainsley, kneeling beside a gravestone, her lips moving. As if drawn there by an invisible string, he moved closer, close enough to hear her voice, close enough to see the tears that were once again rolling down her cheeks.

"It gets harder to put a face on every year…especially with the boys. I love those boys, I don't want to ruin their Christmas with my baggage. It's not fair on them…but I can't help it. I try; I try to make it work. I try to make myself believe I love him, that I'm happy. But I'm not." She had to pause to choke back the sobs then. "I keep remembering when we told people that we were engaged…wanting to stop it, wanting you to stop it…but you just did what everyone else did, kissed my cheek and told me that you hoped I'd be happy. Why couldn't you see that I couldn't be happy without you? And I look at Sam now, and I see what I've done. I knew he liked me, I always knew that. And I thought he could help me get over you, and maybe he'd get over me at the same time. I never thought things would happen like this, that we'd get married, that we'd have the kids. He might have forgotten me if I'd left well enough alone, found someone else, been happy. I've ruined his life…and if I leave him, I'll ruin the kids'. Children deserve both their parents." Her voice broke again and she stretched out a hand to the gravestone, and Leo could almost feel the cold marble under his fingertips. "I just miss you so much…."

Leo had been getting closer and closer to her like one in a trance, and he knew what he was going to see before he saw it.

It didn't make the sight of the stone any less shocking. After all, no man should have to look down at his own grave.

It was his shocked gasp that woke him up, clutching his chest.

>*<*>*<

His heart was racing, and he was having trouble catching his breath. But at least he told himself, it was over. Three ghosts, three crazy dreams. Maybe now he could get some sleep.

"It's not easy, is it? To see your own grave?"

Or maybe not.

He turned his head, to see Abbey Bartlet sitting where he'd first seen Mrs Landingham. And despite his shock at what he'd seen, he couldn't stop a chuckle. "I should've known you'd get in on this somehow."

She grinned at him, that saucy grin that had won Jed's heart. "Hey, you didn't think I'd miss a shindig like this, did you?"

Leo's thoughts returned once again to the sight of Ainsley, sobbing by his grave. "How did…does it happen?"

"You had a heart attack. Too much stress, too much work, that's what the doctor said. And Mallory took it pretty bad, kept telling herself that she should have done more to drag you away from your work. And Margaret thought the same. So did Jed, he kept telling himself that he should have done more for you, tried to bring you out of yourself. And of course, Ainsley…well, you saw how Ainsley was."

Leo took a deep breath, let it out slowly between steepled fingers over his mouth. "This is my future?" he asked.

"What you have to understand Leo, is that we were sent here tonight to show you something. Your first visitor showed you your past, to remind you of how far you've come. You're not your father Leo. You never were. And just because things didn't work out with Jenny, that doesn't mean that you should stop trying. Your second visitor was to show you that it's not too late. That girl isn't just crazy about you…she's in love with you. And she'd have you back in an instant if you just went to her and told her how you feel. Your third visitor was sent to show you the future, yes. But the future hasn't happened yet." There was a twinkle in Abbey's eyes as she stood up, moving across to him. "It can still be changed. It's all up to you."

"Me?" Leo's mouth was dry as he stared up at her.

"You. We've done our bit Leo. Now it's your turn to choose." She patted him on the cheek gently…

…. and once again, he woke up in his office chair.

There was one important difference though. All the other times that he'd woken up, it was still dark outside. Now, there was an early morning sun shining in his window, and he could hear the faint tinny echo of Christmas music being played through someone's radio. A look at his watch confirmed that it was just past nine o'clock in the morning, and he breathed a sigh of relief that the night was over, and with it, his series of visitors.

"It was just a dream," he told himself. "Just a dream."

But he couldn't get the vision of Ainsley's tears out of his head; the sound of Christmas carols couldn't erase the sound of her sobs. And even though he was inside, even though the heating was on in his office, he still felt the cold of that graveyard.

And he knew what he had to do.

Standing up, his body protested at any form of movement after so long sleeping in the chair, but he pushed such concerns aside. He stopped by Margaret's desk first; finding what he was looking for in her impeccably organised Rolodex. It was while he was scribbling it down that a passing guard looked in the door and saw him. "Mr McGarry! I didn't know you were here."

"Yeah." Leo's voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, and he wondered for an instant how he must look to this man. He found that he didn't like the thought. "Just had to look for something."

"OK." If the guard thought that his presence there on Christmas morning was odd, he didn't show it, and that irked Leo. "Merry Christmas Sir."

"Yeah." Leo threw the pen back down on the desk. "Merry Christmas."

The streets were deserted as he drove, and he found parking with no problem, albeit a couple of minutes walk from his destination. He still felt cold, had been feeling cold all morning, and the chill in the air did nothing to help. But that was nothing compared to the chill that went through him when he stopped walking, checking the address that he'd taken from Margaret's Rolodex, checking that he was in the right place. Because he'd never been here before, had never been to Sam's place in all the years they'd worked together. But it was the same place that he'd stood in front of in his dream.

A shiver coursed through him and before he could lose his nerve, he walked up the steps and rang the bell. He could hear Christmas music from inside the house, could hear voices shouting and laughing, and Sam's voice, shouting down the hall as he came to the door. He was laughing over something, but he stopped abruptly, shock on his face when he saw who was at the door. "Leo!"

"Hey Sam." Leo shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Margaret told me last night that everyone was coming here…"

To his credit, Sam recovered quickly, and was propelling Leo through the front door before he'd even got that much out. "Sure…sure! Let me get your coat…" He hung it up on a coat-stand that looked in dire danger of toppling over, so laden was it with coats. "Come on in…and Merry Christmas."

"You too." Leo pasted a smile on his face, but to his great surprise, he didn't have to try too hard to get it there. Especially not when he walked into the sitting room with Sam, and saw the surprised, but happy, smiles on the faces of the people who were gathered there when they saw him. He couldn't help but notice that again, it was the exact same room as he'd seen in his dream, he could even see a hastily packed Trivial Pursuit game beside the couch.

"Leo!" CJ was on her feet, handing around a plate of cookies, and she kissed his cheek when she saw him. "We didn't think you were going to make it."

"Well…" Leo shrugged. "I thought I'd come by…"

" And we're glad you did," Sam told him hastily. "You're just in time for the toast." Sam was handing him a glass of champagne, but Leo held up his hand quickly.

"Sam, I don't-"

"Ah." Sam had the grace to look abashed, and blushed when everyone started shaking their heads at him. "There's juice in the kitchen."

"Juice is fine." Leo looked around the room, at Josh and Donna sitting side by side on the couch, at Margaret, perched on the arm beside Donna. Toby was standing by the fireplace, cigar in hand, and CJ and Sam were on either side of him. One person was missing. "I can help myself."

"Ainsley's in the kitchen." Sam waved an arm, but Leo already knew where the door was. "She's finishing off baking the last batch of cookies."

"You've got to try the cookies," CJ told him.

"They're really good," Josh added. Of course, that might have been what he was saying - through the mouthful of cookies, it was pretty hard to figure out.

Leo nodded, suddenly nervous at the thought of seeing her again. "OK."

He was reaching for a cookie from CJ's plate when Donna spoke. "Why don't you try to get one of the ones just out of the oven? They taste better that way." Her face and voice were both all innocence, but there was a look in her eyes that made Leo wonder just how much she knew, just how much she saw. He looked at her suspiciously, and was rewarded with a broad smile and a nod.

"Good idea," he said. When he walked into the kitchen, she had her back to him, leaning over to take a tray out of the oven. He didn't say anything, just watched her. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, she was wearing a sweatshirt and faded baggy jeans, with no shoes. And she was the most breath-taking thing he'd ever seen.

"I'll be finished in a minute Sam," she said, still not turning around. "Don't worry, I won't miss your toast, I know you've been working on this speech for weeks…"

"It's not Sam." He waited until she'd put the tray down before he spoke, no sense in risking the cookies after all, and knew he'd made the right decision when she jumped a mile, turning around, her hand going over her heart.

"Leo! What are you…I mean…I had understood that you wouldn't…that is to say…"

He took a step closer to her. "I changed my mind." She was looking at him with tears in her eyes. "And I don't just mean about today."

"What…what do you mean?"

He kept on talking as he walked to her, almost afraid that she'd run if there was silence. "I mean that I was wrong Ainsley. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I know that now. I should never have left you that morning…should never have said the things that I said. I know I've hurt you, and I can only apologise for that. And ask you to forgive me."

He was only inches away from her now, and he stopped, wanting to give her space, time to make her decision. "What are you saying?" she whispered.

"I'm saying that I was wrong to walk away from you. That given the chance again, I'd do things differently. And I'm here to ask you to forgive me. To ask you for another chance."

There were still tears in her eyes, but she looked almost angry as she stared up at him. "Why should I? You hurt me Leo…I never would have believed that you could act like that. Why should I let myself in for that again?"

"Because I know what I did. And I know that I hurt you. And I swear to God Ainsley, if you give me another chance, I will never hurt you again." He took a deep breath. "Every minute of every day since that morning, I've regretted what I did. I've been miserable, and I deserve to be. But you're not happy either. And I think…no, I know…that I can make you happy. If you just give me a chance."

She'd been staring up at him, not speaking, and she continued to do that. She might have been a statue she was so still, and Leo began to come to the conclusion that this had been a mistake, that he'd waited too long, that he shouldn't have come here. He sighed, turning to go.

A hand on his arm stopped him and he turned, looking down at Ainsley. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she hugged him to her fiercely. He would have protested, but then he realised that his own arms were around her just as tightly. "If you ever do that to me again Leo McGarry…" she whispered against his chest.

"I won't." He kissed the top of her head, then pulled back so that he could look at her. "I promise." He lowered his head to hers and closed his eyes. Their lips were so close that he could feel her breath mingling with his.

"Have you guys eaten all the cook-" Their heads snapped around as Josh walked into the kitchen, his voice faltering as he took in the scene in front of him. He opened and closed his mouth before hastily turning around and leaving them. Through the door swinging in his wake, they could clearly hear him saying, "They're not eating cookies."

Leo's eyes met Ainsley's, and they both burst out laughing. When they sobered up, he shrugged. "I guess our secret's out."

"Guess so." She grinned at him, and she didn't look sorry in the least. "Come on…we'll miss Sam's toast."

"I need juice," Leo told her, remembering the reason he'd come in here in the first place.

She pointed out where the glasses were, and he held the glass while she poured. When they were ready to go out, he held out his other hand to her, and they walked out to join the others, hand in hand.

The rest of the gang were looking at them with expressions of mingled surprise and suspicion on their faces, all except Donna, who was beaming broadly. "Come on Sam," Ainsley said, breaking the silence. "Where's this speech you've been promising us?"

Sam was looking at her hand, joined with Leo's, so it was Donna who spoke, her grin becoming wider still, her gaze fixed on the doorway just above Leo and Ainsley's heads. "Guys…you do know where you're standing, right?" They looked at her blankly, and she just pointed up with her finger.

Their heads moved upwards at the same time, their eyes coming to rest on the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the lintel. Leo reached out and placed his glass down on the bookshelf beside him before turning back to Ainsley. He didn't say anything, just grinned and shrugged as he dipped his head and kissed her.

He didn't actually know how long they were kissing. He lost himself in the feel of his lips on hers, his hands on her back, in her hair, her hands holding him to her tightly. When they finally came up for air, he was satisfied to see the others looking at them with amazed expressions on their faces. And he suddenly realised that he was warm for the first time that morning.

"Well then…" Sam began to speak, but he had nowhere to go.

It was Toby who rescued him, with two simple words. "Sam?" Sam turned to him. "Speech?"

"Ah. Yes." Sam took a couple of seconds to recover his wits. "We spend a lot of time talking about the true meaning of Christmas. About how it's not about presents, and time off work and bright lights and music…it's about people. It's about people coming together, about putting aside all the bad things that have happened during the year, and just enjoying each other's company. Mostly, that's what families do, and I know that I've had people asking me a lot this past week why I'm not going back home to my family. And I tell them that I've got my family right here, with all of you. Over the years, we've laughed together, we've cried together. And we've fought with each other, but we've also fought for each other. And we may have walked out on each other, but we're all together now. A wise person once said that each of us has two families - one is the family that you're born with. The other…the other is the family you choose. And I'm proud to belong to this family. So, I'm asking you to raise your glasses…to the family you choose."

Leo had been looking around the room as Sam spoke, at everyone who was gathered there. Toby at the fireplace, trying not to look affected by Sam's words, CJ beside him, blinking back tears. Margaret met his eyes and grinned at him, while Donna and Josh only had eyes for each other. And beside him, her arm around his waist, looking as if she wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon, was Ainsley.

And he realised that Sam was right. They were a family. They were his family. And he couldn't believe that he'd lost sight of that.

Couldn't believe that the toast Sam was making echoed his own thoughts so exactly, echoed the words of his last ghostly visitor that morning. "We've done our bit Leo. Now it's your turn to choose." He tightened his grip around Ainsley's waist, and she grinned up at him, snuggling closer into his side, and he knew that not only had he chosen, but that his choice had been the right one.

So when Sam finished his toast, he was one of the first to raise his glass, to echo the toast with the rest of his family.

"The family you choose."

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