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Fierce Determination |
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Author: Maeve Disclaimer: TWW belongs to AS, WB, and NBC. AKA – Not me. AN: Dunno, after CJ & Toby & Will get shot at. I don’t really like
it, but I had the image in my head. Couldn’t hake it. She slips off her shoes, letting them tumble into the grass beside her, her toes stretching against the darkened green around her. She can feel him behind her, his body tense and waiting for something. Margaret sighs softly, refusing to register his presence. Her body tells Leo in stern silent language that he’s not allowed any closer for the moment. We end up here with you…because you shouldn’t have ended up here. Her fingers pass in the grass, knees drawn up against her chest. Her eyes flicker across the stone, washing over the recognized name and her breath catches. The sun is lighting into dusk behind the trees. You were brilliant. Margaret slips her fingers deeper into the cemetery lawn, stroking the spring grass with an easy hand, her eyes refusing to glance on the headstone again. She pulls a heavy breath, “They shot at us again.” Her eyes flicker to the stone, searching for answers that the brusque older woman would have given her. She smiles softly, the memory of common sense too close for her to touch. ~They didn’t shoot at you~ The comment rings from a voice somewhere in her memory. The voice of courtesy and truth. The voice that rang in the Oval Office and kept Jed Bartlet on the straight and narrow. The way she keeps track of Leo. Fierce dedication....the Landingham way. She was too angry to cry. Too upset. “Well,” she sighs gently, “CJ and Toby…and Will.” She feels him moving closer from behind, his breath slow and nearly silent in the quiet cemetery. Her breath falters a bit and she flickers a glance back, still refusing to look at his face. His hand slips against her hair. “She would have liked Will.” She tells him quietly. She can feel him nod, a sigh drifting in the air and he crouches down to the grass. Margaret watches, studying the fall of his hand as he brushes easy fingers against the cool stone. She watches the way he strokes the lichen spattered stone with something of respect, his hands tired but careful. “Yeah.” His tone is nearly non-existent. There was never a moment where she missed her more. Never a moment…where she was needed more. Her and those damn cookies. “They shot at us again Leo.” His breath is heavy, “I know.” We always end up here. Click Leo and Margaret to send feedback:
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