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Variations Of Adoration |
Author: Maeve
Disclaimer: AS, WB, NBC, and Spoilers: Oh god, loads of them. Okay, I think ‘Five
Votes Down’, and ‘In the Shadow of Two Gunman’ are the only major ones. You
really should know up to season three though if you wanna know what’s going on. Working
Title: The ‘Labor Sec
Fic’ – or ‘For the Sake of Ten Years’ Author’s
Notes: Lord this took forever. I
finished it then added, then added some more, and then just kept freaking adding more.
It’s one of my favs though. Kells – it’s done! “Leo
– what can I do to be of service to you?” - Jed
“I’m fine - I’ve got
Margaret.” - Leo Co-Workers “Heard you tossed
another temp this morning.” His eyes moved up across the table, flickering towards
the man across the meeting. Leo
smirked as the younger man spoke and shrugged in his suit jacket. He shifted the
paperwork, stuffing it into his briefcase. “She was a class
‘A’ idiot Jimmy,” he murmured, matching eyes with the other man, watching
as the other meeting members left the room in a hurry.
“She spelled my name wrong.” “Well some families
put an ‘A’ in it.” The Deputy Secretary shrugged complacently, a smirk on
his lips, and humor in his brown eyes.
Leo shrugged again, tugging up his briefcase, and grabbing his coat, motioning for
the door. They headed towards it quickly, moving together in tandem. “My first name,
junior.” Leo tripped the nickname off his tongue, voice indignant. Jimmy Cahill paused in the
doorway, and then quickly moved to catch up to the Labor Secretary.
“Oh…wow.” “Yeah wow.” Leo
nodded fast, eyes flashing in the fluorescent lighting. “Just once - once I’d
like a mildly intelligent secretary, ya get me?” “I’m on vacation
next week, “Which one’s
Margaret?” McGarry asked quickly, tugging his coat on his shoulders. The younger man smirked,
“The mouthy one.” “The brunette?” “Nah, the
redhead.” Jimmy laughed softly into the answer. Leo grinned, brow arched,
“The one that’s all legs?” “Yeah.” “I dunno, what’d
she get on the civil test?” he shrugged again, eyeing the younger of the two. “Good god Leo,”
Jimmy sighed. “She’s smart okay, just outta school. Just take her for the week
and quit with the whining.” “Fine,” he
huffed, “Send her over in the morning.” “Mr. Cahill would like
you to temp for Secretary McGarry this week.”
She blinked tiredly at the short brunette before her. Janet Aaronson was an
absolute power hungry, dictatorial, inter-office Nazi. The woman wanted to handle the
phones and computers and Jimmy Cahill all at once. In any case she did handle Deputy Labor Secretary Jimmy Cahill. His wife just didn’t
know it. “I’m in the
middle of the Pendleton project.” Margaret murmured slowly, handing some stray
paperwork to a young intern at her right. She glanced back to the other woman. “There’s no way I
can do both at the same time.” And
she’d heard raves that Leo McGarry tended to massacre his temps inside of half an
hour. She wasn’t about hand over the best case in the office so that she could work
the phones for a drunk. “Jimmy specifically
asked me to send you over there.” The brunette snapped her gum, dropping folders in
her inbox. Her voice accentuated the Deputy Labor Secretary’s first name.
“He’s expecting you tomorrow morning, so you can just hand over the Pendleton
stuff to me.” Fascist wench. “Tell me…god
please tell me you know how to spell intermediary.” He rubbed his eyes, voice thick
and gruff. “Last time I
checked.” Her tone was almost condescending, and yet in some aspect mildly
respectful. Leo glanced up, watching her through barely open eyes. He was tired, and
just…done. He was done with the drinks, and the early morning binges. No he wasn’t…he
knew that much. He blinked, “Then get
over here and do it, I’m a little fuzzy.”
He watched through a lazy glance, supposedly reading over a report as she stalked
long legs around his desk, and moved before his paperwork, picking up the red pen and
sliding it down the paper. She was marking things quickly, whether or not it was what
he’d asked of her. His eyes caught the arch of her back and how she chewed her lip
softly. Jenny did that…Jenny.
He sighed, moving back to the paperwork. If anything would get his head off their
earlier argument…it sure as hell wasn’t work. Work would make him think about it
a little bit more, and more and more – until it ate at him. And then his mood would
turn insane or inane, which ever came first. His hand slid over the papers, shoving them
flat across his desktop. He blinked up when she straightened. “Margaret right?”
he murmured softly. “Yeah.” “Yeah?” he tossed
her a glance of complacence. She
nodded, not ready to play his game. She bit her lip again and just glanced down at him in
uncertainty. Her fingers tossed his pen to the desk in mild apathy and she returned her
eyes to meet his. His glance was unnerving, a bit unsteady…and fuzzy. He blinked at
her, heavy lids over pale eyes. “So I need the
schedule for this afternoon.” He mumbled, moving his glance back off hers.
She didn’t move at first and soon he lifted questioning eyes back at her. He
blinked while she stared at him softly, suddenly wondering what kind of woman Jimmy’d
tossed at him. She seemed a little…quirky. “It’s on your
desk.” “It’s not.”
He answered waving at the mahogany in frustration. She sighed, “Mr.
McGarry it is, I put it there an hour ago.” He lifted his hands,
“Well enlighten me, cuz I don’t see it.”
He froze when she leaned over him fast, tugging a thick folder from under a pile of
paperwork, gracefully moving it without dumping a thing on the over crowded desk. He
smirked in humor as she thumped it in front of him effortlessly. “Right there.” Leo grinned wider, refusing
her eyes, “I see that.” He was attractive when he
was clean and sober. Clean, as in there was no dizzy haze on his eyes, no mumble to his
words. He had a Senate meeting, and he looked all the better for it. When he had business
– real business on the Hill or at the White House – he worked the chic image. He
was clean cut, and smelled incredible. Shame he was
married…she was no Janet Aaronson and he was no Jimmy Cahill. Damn his wife for getting
to him first. Margaret
blinked, her phone cradled at her shoulder as she flipped his paperwork, searching out his
schedule. Her eyes strayed softly to his pressed D&G suit as he leaned over her desk,
grabbing scrap and a pen. She watched him lean over the desk, scribbling a note as she
checked his schedule. “ “No, three won’t
work – I just told you I have Leo
just grinned as she muscled the other assistant over the phone. With a smirk and a wink he
handed her the note, waving as he moved into his office. She blinked, studying the
post it as he shifted his door closed. I need the Jackson Estate folder – and Good
Morning Margaret. “Your wife is on the
phone.”
He shook his head, grounding his fingers against his temples in heavy annoyance.
Leo tossed his hands to the desk, his eyes lifting fast in the low-lit office. He blinked
at her. His good mood had disappeared upon return from the White House. She wasn’t very
surprised. “Do I look like I want
to talk to her Margaret?” he shook his head, waving her away. “I’ve lied to her
three times in the past six hours,” she caught his glance, “I think you should
talk to her.” He nearly growled, “I
think you need to relax before I fire ya.” “It’s been four
days,” she murmured, “You fire the temps within two.” He
nearly smirked, but held it back, not giving her the satisfaction. Leo ran his tongue
along his bottom lip, dropping his eyes to the desk, balling a fist. He sighed heavy
through the office. “Yeah,” he lifted
his eyes, “So lie for me one more time here Margaret, and I’ll keep ya an extra
day.” Her eyes narrowed, her hand
on the door handle, “I’ll tell her you’re busy…and you would have kept
me another day anyways.” He grinned, “You
don’t know that.” “Yes I do.” She
held the door open, her hand steady on his shoulder as he leaned to the frame. Margaret
watched in silence as he swallowed hard, a hand to his forehead. “I’m
gonna…” his hand moved to the couch and she nodded, pulling the briefcase from
his fingertips. Margaret
walked him towards the office couch, her hand still strong on his back as he dropped
against the crackled leather. The smell of whiskey wasn’t strong enough to be
pervasive, but she caught it as he turned. She blinked in heavy discouragement and
motioned to his shoulders. “Take off your
coat.” She dropped him into the seat, settling down the briefcase, and helping him
pull off the coat. She tossed it over her arm.
He was hazy and dazed, eyes dark and unwelcome. They were cold and slightly
frightening eyes that she’d yet to see. She watched him crash back against the arm of
the couch, his arm swept over his eyes. She’d seen the haunted glance, but not the
dead one. “You’re not
staying here all night.” She murmured gently, “I’ll call you a cab.” “Go home.” He
ground out. Blinking as he lifted his arm an inch. He dropped his forearm back over his
glance and ignored her in the silent upholstered office. “You’re not gonna
sleep here.” She informed him. “Will if I want.”
He mumbled. She shuddered, “What
about your wife?” “Told me not to come
home.” His apathetic murmur trapped her eyes against him and she shook her head in
soft realization. She sighed
softly…suddenly understanding Leo McGarry. She
tucked one leg over the other, watching as he rubbed his fingers hard over his forehead, a
regular action during his morning coffee. So was the pill he was washing down with his
caffeine stipend. Margaret shifted the notebook on her lap and waited slightly
impatiently. “So you slept here
last night?” she asked quickly. He blinked, “Why do
you care?”
There was an even silence between them. In honesty, she shouldn’t have cared.
It had been the glance she’d seen in those eyes the night before. The dead glare that
he’d blinked at her before crashing on a poor excuse for a bed. She looked him over.
He was clean, suit fresh and pressed. He smelled of cologne….damn good cologne. How the hell did he do
that? She
had the idea that is wife was more of a provider, than anything else. That was okay, she
wasn’t his wife, and she had no reason to worry about it. In any case, she highly
doubted he’d be keeping her for long. Jimmy Cahill was due back in two days, which
meant she’d be back to the familiar office with a bay window and a few chatting
secretaries to keep her company. “What did you get on
your SAT’s?” he queried and she blinked fast at the suddenness of the question. “What did you get on
yours?” she tossed back. “Double 7.” He
mumbled, dropping his glance. “Fourteen hundred.” “I see.” She
tossed her glance to the side. He blinked up,
“You?” “
Her eyes lifted to his in soft regret. She should have lied or something, he looked
a little hurt. Margaret pursed her lips, telling herself that talk was highly over rated
in terms of government. She bit the inside of her cheek as he stared at her in complete
quiet. Slowly he lifted a hand to his head, dropping his temple against his fist, elbow to
the desk. His eyes were moving over the young eyes and red
locks. She was so damn young. Young and fresh and somewhere…easy. Easy life, easy
days and nights. No fights, no moods, no
drinks, no hurt. He sighed softly. “Why are you a
secretary?” She tried not to say
it…really she did. “Why are you a
drunk?” His eyes flashed in brief
fury, before he swallowed hard. “Go back to Jimmy’s office…now.”
He sat heavy into the chair before his deputy’s desk, huffing at the younger
man. He noticed the slight tan to the man’s skin and blinked up at him complacently. “Did you maim her or
something, cuz she wasn’t in the office this morning.” Jimmy eyed the Labor
Secretary warily, catching the glazed glance of the man’s light eyes. “Nah…I was
polite.”
There was something else, but he didn’t push. People didn’t push Leo
McGarry…not often. Jimmy eased into his own chair, chewing the inside of his cheek. A
slow smile creeped over his toned features as he rolled a pen in his fingers. He waved in
questioning. “So?” “She’s a mouthy
one.” Leo agreed, rubbing his eyes. Cahill chuckled gently,
“I told ya…but she’s organized.” “Yeah,” McGarry
dipped his head, “all my paperwork was filed correctly; I was kinda amazed.” “So?” Leo blinked, “So
what?” “What’d you do
with her?” Jimmy leaned in, brow arched in wonder. “I sent her back to
your office.” The young blond huffed,
throwing his hands, “Jesus Leo, would it kill you to - ” “But I came to steal
her from ya.” Leo shrugged, “she’s actually competent.” Jimmy grinned, “You
got it.” “I’m begging
forgiveness.” He set down his briefcase slowly beside her desk, “But so help me
god, I’m not getting down on my knees.” She
forced herself not to smile, and just blinked at him quietly. Margaret dropped her eyes
and stared at the Pendleton paperwork before her, refusing his glance. With a quick breath
she snapped a glance back up, realizing that Jan was watching from across the office area. “I won’t lie to
your wife anymore.” She demanded, “You wanna lie to her, you do it.” He thought on it,
“Okay…any other demands?” She smirked shaking her
head in a negative fashion. “Nope.” “Good,” he nodded
fast, heading away from her desk, “Move your stuff, I need you to work on a memo, and
I have some data collections you need to get done by three.” “It’s one
thirty.” She tossed, standing as he hit the doorway. “Yeah,” he
nodded, “I know…my daughter gave me a watch for Christmas.” She glared at him mildly,
“That’s not what I mean.” Leo grinned, “Honey,
you’re workin’ for the boss now, you gotta make it snappy.” “Are you always like
this?” she tossed after him, watching him pause with a grin. Leo shrugged, “Yeah,
pretty much.” She watched him move off
down the hall, “Wonderful.” “Mrs. McGarry.”
She blinked up a smile, the phone tucked evenly between her shoulder and her ear.
Beethoven musings in her ear as she sat on hold. Margaret watched the elegant woman pause
by the desk, eyes a little wider than usual. “Good god, you were
here last week.” The woman blinked, a wonder in her glance.
Margaret smirked in gentle humor, nodding, and moving the paperwork across her
desk. She grabbed two folders, standing as she felt him move out from his office. Margaret
handed the folders behind her, a smirk to the man’s wife. “Mr. McGarry, your
wife is here.” His breath hitched,
“I’m not blind Margaret.” “You are
sometimes.” She quipped as his hand hit the arch of his wife’s back. He gave her
a pointed glare, but slight humor tossed across his face. Margaret grinned at the phone as
the other line answered. “Yes this is Mr.
McGarry’s office,” she snapped her eyes away from him, “I need to schedule
an appointment for this afternoon.” “She’s
cute.” “Jesus, Jenny.”
He tossed the folders to his desk, pulling off his glasses. “This is not up for
discussion. She’s my secretary.” She
nodded, dropping gently into the chair before his desk, sliding her purse to the floor and
blinking up worried eyes. Leo studied her in mild interest.
He sighed to her tiredly; ready for the fight he knew was coming. She had
that angry glint in her eyes. He understood it. He understood her, and he
was tired of understanding his wife. He was tired of dealing
with her like this, tired of his life. “I know,” she
dropped her glance, “I trust you Leo.” He sat hard, “You
don’t Jenny. If you did, this would not be
an issue.” “I do Leo, I’m
sorry.” She lifted her hands in defense, “I’m just upset about this
morning.” He growled, tossing back in
his chair, “You told me not to come home.” “And you still did, at
three in the morning.” Her voice slapped him hard. “And I told you that every
night last week. You still came home, but considerably later than your daughter goes to
bed.”
In the back of his head he noticed the door of his office close, the glance of red
hair as it shushed closed. He swallowed, steeling himself against the comment of his wife,
and the effort of his secretary to keep his problems personal and not newsworthy. “I’m gonna be
late tonight.” He sighed, “Tell Mal I love her.” He watched her stand and
move fast, “You tell her Leo.”
His grumbling was starting to get a little annoying. Margaret set a cup of hot
coffee on the desk and reached to pull the pen from his fingers. Leo snapped a glance when
she lifted it from his hand. He stared at her in seething silence a moment. “Excuse me.” he
murmured. She didn’t even blink,
“Drink some coffee, you’re growling obnoxiously.” With
a heavy huff he pulled a drink of the strong coffee, slipping his eyes closed. He’d
not noticed her form dropping to the seat before his desk and he blinked to her as he set
down the hot mug. “Better.” He
groused, “Thank you.” She nodded,
“You’re staying here and working right?” As in, you’re not
going to the bar right? He knew exactly what she meant. He sighed,
“Margaret.” “Just asking, because
the amendments need to be finished by - ” “I know when this
needs to be finished.” He snapped. He needed a drink, god he needed a drink. Or a
secretary that was a little less intrusive. She was awfully damn nosy. He reached for the
small bottle on his desk, the pills rattling softly in his hand. “All right.” She
moved hard off the chair her eyes darkened. He shifted,
“Margaret.” He watched her turn slowly
back, “Yeah?” “I’m gonna need
you to stay for awhile.” She nodded,
“Yeah.”
She unbuttoned her jacket tiredly, one hand still holding the phone, the other
scratching from the buttons to her throat. She was tired. And as tired as she was, he was
even worse off. Her eyes tripped across his office to find him in one of the wingbacks,
his eyes skimming thick paperwork. She dropped the phone back into its cradle, shaking her
head. “I can’t get a
hold of her.” She murmured, shrugging the thick suit jacket off, tossing it to a
chair. Leo shook his head,
“She’s not gonna answer the phone Margaret. That’s just Jenny.” “She’s not
worried?” she queried. “I’m sure she
is.” He stood, leaning across the mahogany, grabbing at the folder on his desk.
“But she’s pissed too.”
He shoved papers out of the way, searching something out in his cluttered space.
His voice dropped a register and he growled easily towards the wood. “Where the hell is
it?” he snapped. “Right here Leo.”
Her fast legs moved her towards him, snapping a folder against his chest. He sighed, catching the
folder with one hand, “How’d you know what I was looking for?” She smirked, “Just
knew.” Acquaintances “Okay.” Her hand
slid across his shoulders, nudging him away from the desk. “Let’s get you on the
couch.” “Margaret?”
He blinked at her and she shivered. The damn glance of the weary tossed her way.
She licked her bottom lip, swallowing the comment off her lips. She tugged back her red
locks, shoving them from her shoulders. Her hands lifting at his
shoulders. It was the pills, had to be the pills. The glitter across his watery
eyes was nothing of whiskey or vodka. “Yeah Mr. McGarry,
it’s me.”
She walked him towards the couch in his office, tugging his suit jacket off. He
blinked at her in a thick daze, eyes following her movements as she eased him to sit. She was suddenly becoming
more and more like his wife. Enabling…that’s
what they called it. “Why do you do this
Mr. McGarry?” his head dropped back against the arm of the couch as she spoke, and
she settled his coat carefully over his chest. He shivered under it and she ran her hands
over his arms to warm him. “Sorry Margaret.”
It was slurred and she wasn’t sure he knew what he was saying.
With a sigh, she kneeled down quickly, nylon-covered knees hitting the oriental
carpet. Her hands moved fast to his tie, tugging it loose. The last thing she needed was
him choking on his office couch. “Margaret.” She
froze when his hand hit her face, fingertips skimming her jaw line, passing fleetingly
over her bottom lip.
Quickly her fingers touched his, dropping his hand to his chest in silence. She
swallowed hard; stamping down the emotions he’d just dragged up outta her chest. Men
who touched her like that…well they weren’t the Leo McGarry sort. They weren’t the boss
sort. And they weren’t the
married sort. “Shhh.”
She tucked his hand against his chest as he studied her in drugged silence. He wouldn’t remember
it in the morning. And with some effort,
neither would she. “Sorry about the couch
thing.”
She blinked up slowly, matching his eyes in the quiet office. Margaret nodded and
handed over his day schedule, waiting silently as he returned to skimming paperwork. He
dropped his eyes down over the notes he’d made, and then lifted the papers quickly. “It’s fine.”
That was it. They wouldn’t talk about it any more. She’d hoped he would
forget, and he obviously hadn’t. She was mildly embarrassed about it, but a bit upset
at herself in the same moment. She was just as bad as Jenny McGarry. She was cleaning him up,
covering his ass. But for the life of
her…she couldn’t stop. Enemies “C’mon Margaret, it’s Christmas, come celebrate.” He was drunk. She wasn’t really very
enthused about it.
Margaret tugged her coat over her shoulders, shaking her head in the negative. She
forced a smile onto her lips as he moved close to her, a scotch in his fingers. He had
that insanely giddy smile and perfectly seductive timbre to his voice.
He was a calm drunk. Cool and collected and bewildering. Or was it bewitching? She
decided not to decide, and instead tried to move around him. “I really should get
home Mr. McGarry.” “Leo.” His hand
shot out, hitting its target. His fingers paused her, pressing
insistently on her stomach as he corrected her, “Leo.” Margaret brought her eyes
back up to his, “Mr. McGarry.”
Her quiet demand seemed to humor him, and a slight smirk hitched the corner of his
mouth. She watched his eyes drop over her, in a way they never had before. It was a little
unnerving. His glance dipped over her black linen, and she suddenly shivered, trying to
move past his fingers again. Leo flexed his hand flat on her stomach. “Margaret.” His
eyes trapped her as he spoke.
He was so calm and casual, pulling his drink up by his right hand, sipping softly
while his eyes held hard to hers. The other hand seemed to press harder against her dress.
She tightened her stomach; breathing deeply through parted lips. “I should go
home.” She murmured.
Still…she didn’t. She didn’t move as he inched a little closer,
without really moving at all. His eyes were entrancing, and as much as her head screamed
at her to move, her feet were unwilling companions. “Stay.” He blinked, his eyes on her mouth. “Here.”
The thick smell of good scotch was light on his breath. It mixed easily with
expensive cologne and some sort of soap. And the scent of power. He’d always had power
over her. Labor
Secretary to Assistant. Leo
over Margaret. And so on, and so on. “I really - ” “Quiet
Margaret.” His low tone sent a shiver up her spine, and she felt him move in
quickly, the hand sliding up her stomach. His thumb tapped right against her rib cage and
she froze involuntarily. His fingertips were brushing the undersides of her breasts. Her
throat caught when he dipped his mouth to hers. His lips brushed fast past hers, and she
felt a sigh fall from her mouth. “No.” it was a
rush of breath from her lips, and as soon as it fell between them, his head dropped.
She watched his head lift, shuddering as confusion and pain crowded his glance. He
blinked at her, and looked down at the glass in his hand. She watched him swallow hard,
and slowly lift his hand from the spot directly below her chest. His fingers squeezed fast
into a hard fist, and he dropped his arm. He lifted his eyes again and she caught sincere
pain there. She blinked, the breath shuddering through her chest. “Merry
Christmas Margaret.” Suddenly she hated
him… But then she didn’t.
They didn’t talk about it. She said nothing about the warmth of his lips
brushing hers, even while watching those lips hit his favorite coffee cup. She said
nothing when his hand hit her lower back while trying to pass her in the doorway. She said
nothing when he looked at her sadly across the desk. “Can you get a hold of
Jenny for me?” he blinked down slowly, hands pulling at his glasses. He dropped them
to his desktop and rubbed his forehead. Talk about a slap in the
face. And he knew it. What a bastard. “Yeah.”
Her word was quiet in the even quieter office space. His eyes finally moved back
to hers, “I’m sorry I just -” “No.” she rushed
the word off her lips for the second time in twenty-four hours, and it made him shudder. He blinked, “Okay. I
understand if you wanna quit.” “You want me to
quit?” she asked fast, eyes a bit frantic. She
liked her job, a hell of a lot more than making copies for Jimmy Cahill’s fascist
lead assistant, and mistress. A lot more than any other job she’d be able to pick up
on short notice. And rent was up. The phone bill was past due. The electric – “No.” his breath
shivered just as much. Margaret nodded,
“Okay.” Allies “Mallory’s school
play is at seven.” He
smirked as he breezed past her desk, snapping his fingers softly to the tune he’d yet
to get out of his head. He nodded, a little buzzed after the lunch meeting with Don
MacAllister; dealings over whiskey and shop talk. He tossed a quick smile her way. “Then get things
movin’ baby,” he moved amused eyes her way and she sighed in reply, feigning
annoyance at the nickname.
They’d slowly turned back into the ‘giddy Leo’ and ‘quirky
Margaret’ after the holidays. He didn’t understand why it had taken a new year
to get her to smile again. He was smiling fine. Course he was a little
buzzed. “I pushed your meeting
with Senator MacAllister to three.” She moved into the office, settling a few things
into his inbox. “Ahead of ya,” he
blinked a smirk, “Met him for lunch.” “For lunch or for
drinks?” she queried, brow arched. He shrugged complacently,
“Same thing Margaret.” She sighed, murmuring under
her breath, “Yeah that’s healthy.” He tossed his hands,
“Are you my mother now?”
She turned back to him on her heel, a slow smirk across her lips. She crossed her
arms easily over her chest, heel turned out. “Should I be?” “Nah,” he waved
her off, “You got better legs. Now can we work it so I can see my baby girl as an
Idaho potato?” “Margaret
called.”
He looked up from the one sheet playbill, still smirking from the hand drawn cover.
The child born picture forcing a chuckle off his lips. “Called the
house?” he cocked a brow. “Yes,” his wife
shifted in the small auditorium seat. “Before we left. I told her you’d call
back.” “Jenny,” his
voice dropped, “She doesn’t call unless it’s important.” The woman beside him tossed
dark eyes, “Leo, your daughter is important.” “I know that
Jennifer.” He ground, moving his eyes hard to the stage.
There was a slow silence between them, and he felt her shudder her breath. With a
swift movement he reached out, lacing his fingers into hers. He felt her nudge her
shoulder closer when he lifted her fingers warmly to his lips, brushing a kiss across her
knuckles. “I’ll call her
back later.” He supplied. He smiled a bit when she
kissed his temple, speaking low, “Thank you.”
He watched her glide through the bedroom with all the elegance she’d had when
they married. Leo sighed softly, pulling the cuffs of his shirt unbuttoned, his eyes still
glancing over his wife as she shifted her dress off, leaving her slip as she slid into the
bathroom. To change no doubt, he knew
she’d come back out ready for bed. Ready to be silent and
sleep. Because that’s what
they did when he came home sober.
Leo huffed a sigh as he heard the water run and yanked open the top drawer, pulling
out a pair of cotton pants, dropping his cufflinks to the bureau top. With another breath
he reached into the drawer, brushing his fingers over Jenny’s silken slips. He shook
his head, dragging a sigh into the room, and dragging his fingers out of the drawer. He
shoved it shut hard with a glare. “Jen, I’m calling
Margaret.” He tossed, moving out of the bedroom. Knowing it would hurt her,
and almost not caring. Friends “Says he tried to call
you.”
She blinked up softly to the Governor before her. Margaret swallowed, shaking her
head in the negative. “He’s called
before,” she shrugged, “He didn’t ask me to come get him this time. When he
asks, I do…sometimes. He didn’t ask this time and - ” “It’s all right
Margaret.” His voice was soothing.
She was mildly surprised that the man remembered her name. Countless Senators and
Congressman had flown past her without a word, let alone her name. And Jed Bartlet
wasn’t renowned for his memory with names. She blinked at him in silence, finding
care in his warm eyes. His hand was soft on her shoulder. “He’s gonna
be,” a pause of breath, “Gone for awhile.” “Awhile?” she
asked. Bartlet nodded,
“Twenty eight days.” Her eyes slipped closed and
a breath of relief rushed out her lungs. Bartlet was doing the thing
Jenny couldn’t. The thing she
couldn’t. “Rehab.” She
breathed. He
nodded, squeezing her fingers on her shoulder, eyes passing over the other man’s
office in gentle care. “Yeah…yeah.” The
girl’s eyes held a glare that Margaret had never really seen before. It was a
frightened glance almost, directed at her mother. Margaret looked between Mallory and
Jenny, studying their anger. “I’m just picking
up a couple of his things Margaret.” The older woman breezed past her desk, easing
into her husband’s office. Margaret nodded softly, not wanting to meet the other
woman’s eyes. Not ready to admit that
they had both conspired in covering his ass. “How’re you
Mallory?” Margaret started to clean up her desk, putting paperwork away. It was
decidedly quiet with McGarry away at…at rehab. “Fine.” The
girl’s eyes matched her fathers. Not so much in color, more in attitude. They
expressed the same disinterested hurt. “Just fine?”
Margaret arched a brow, shoving folders away into a cabinet, kicking off her heels with an
ear to Mrs. McGarry’s rummaging. Margaret smirked, and shared a smartass grin with
the teenage girl. Mallory moved her head, trying to glance as her mother banged in the
larger office. “Yeah,” Mal
shrugged, “Just fine pretty much.” The
redheaded assistant eyed the girl in humor, easing her hip onto the edge of her desk. She
pulled a pack of gum from her pocket, tossing the girl a piece and pulling her own with a
soft glare. “Pretty much huh?” “Yeah.” “Any guys?”
Margaret edged out, almost chuckling as Jenny snapped a frantic four-letter word
throughout the Labor Secretary’s office. Mallory shared the quiet
laugh and nodded once, “A few.” “Got a favorite?”
the aide urged. Mallory shrugged with a
grin, “Well yeah.” “Oh do tell.”
She smiled softly, easing into the chair as she spoke. Margaret studied his office
around her as she talked, careful not to let her voice show worry. “Hey Mr.
McGarry.” Her voice quieter than she wanted. “Hey Margaret.”
He sounded so tired. As if all the sleepless nights of a lifetime of politics had
just suddenly caught up on him. His voice was dropped into the phone, his tone rubbing
against her in worry. “How’re you
doing?” she asked softly. His voice held a sigh,
“Fine. Jenny brought Mallory in yesterday.” “I know.” She
nodded with a supportive smile, knowing he couldn’t see her. “She stopped in the
other day to get some of your things, told me I should call.” “I don’t know
what I’m doing here Margaret, I’m just…it feels like I’m just
dragging.” He murmured and she nearly shuddered at the tone of his voice. “You have to let this
place work for you.” She commented gently, feeling almost awkward talking to him as
she was. It seemed it should have
been a job for Jenny McGarry. He changed the subject
quickly, “It was…seeing Mallory was strange.” She nodded, leaning back in
his chair, “I can imagine.”
After a few breaths in silence she sighed, resorting to the one thing that she knew
he’d put some conversation into. With a smirk she scooped up the paperwork from his
inbox. “Hey, you want me to
go through the slush pile with you?” she asked gently. He laughed on the other end
of the phone, a half hearted tone, “God yes please.” “Never could turn down
a girl with economy reports, huh?” she cracked teasingly, leaning into the desk. Leo laughed again,
comfortable with her joking, “Not when she’s a redhead.” “Hell Margaret.”
He murmured a voice of pain. “This is hell.” Her
eyes narrowed in shrewd study. She chewed her bottom lip and shook her head, a breath past
her lips. “I figure the women
who can’t speak in public,” she spoke quiet, “Are in hell Leo.” “Margaret - ” “The kids in Ethiopia,
who don’t eat every day, that’s hell.” “You’re not
givin’ me any pity here are ya?” he lifted a sad glance. She moved her arms across
her chest, “Figure I’ve been giving you pity since I started working for you.
Maybe now I should start making sure you’re staying straight.” “Can you do it
quietly,” he dropped his eyes again, “My head is screaming.” She smirked slowly,
“Coffee boss?” His chuckle followed her
out the door, “Please god.” “And you didn’t
tell me my daughter was dating a…a punk
for lack of a better word?”
She smirked softly, easing back into the chair. Margaret tapped the pen lightly
against the notebook she was balancing on her lap. She smirked up at his quietly. “He’s not a punk,” she shrugged, mimicking his tone,
“And you were a little occupied.” He snorted in disbelief,
“You’ve always conspired with Mallory, I think you’re just covering for her
and her juvenile delinquent.” “Okay yeah,”
Margaret nodded with a quirky smile, “I’m just waiting for her to set me up with
an ex-con. You know – a nice arsonist maybe – and underage at that.” Leo glared at her, a smile
of his own flashing across his glance; “You’re not amusing.” “Relax, Mr.
McGarry,” she stood, tossing the pen effortlessly to his desk and taking her
notebook, “You’re little girl is growin’ up.” He sighed after her,
“Grown up.” Confidants
He was doodling again; it was kinda cute in a childish sort of way. She leaned over
the desk as he scribbled over a napkin that he’d snagged from his business dinner. He
smirked up softly as she studied the thick black words. “What do you
think?” he questioned, a smirk tugging his lips. Bartlet for
“I think you’re
gonna start something.” She arched a brow and returned his smile. “Does he know
about your delusions of the Presidency?” “Nope.” He tossed
the pen, twirling the napkin over his desk. “You wanna get me a flight to She grinned again,
“Sure.”
The private sector was…the private sector. She was mildly pleased he’d
asked her to leave the presidential term with him, shifting into every day life, without
all the political repartee. Still, she quietly missed the “Your “You’re
kidding.” He begged. Margaret smirked,
“I’m really not.” “I just went through
World War III with Jenny over this,” he dropped his briefcase, “Get them
back.” “Leo, you’re not
gonna get them to come to an appointment they’ve cancelled.” She forced herself
to keep the smirk off her face, and dropped her eyes again. “Christ,” he
moved into his office, “remind me why I stopped drinking.”
Margaret grabbed his briefcase, following him into the office quickly. He turned
after a moment, heading back to grab the forgotten item. She lifted it, stopping fast on
her heels. “It was killing
you.” She murmured gently and watched him take the briefcase in silence. Leo sighed,
“Yeah…so do me a favor.” “Sure.” She
blinked up a soft smile. “I need a number, or
an appointment or…God something.” She arched a brow, watching
as he sat heavy in his chair.
The office was different than she was used to, darker than the Labor Secretary
office. There were more pictures of Mallory in the room, and exceedingly less of Jenny
McGarry. He had moved his mahogany four-post desk into his new office with him, too
attached to let it go peacefully. And his favorite chair. “Who Leo?” she
queried. “Joshua Lyman,”
he tugged a deep breath, his eyes running over the room, “His father is Noah Lyman, a
friend – can you find out where he is for the next week. Don’t talk with him,
just find him for me.” Margaret smiled,
“You’re plotting again.” “Neh.” He
grinned, “Not me.” She turned fast, a deep
smile slipping over her face, “You got it boss.”
He was fidgeting. She didn’t know him to be nervous on planes, considering he
had flown them through hellfire and gunfire matched, but he was decidedly agitated. His
hands were antsy, moving quickly over his lap and papers and the tray. He was walking the
cabin more often than usual. His voice was low, and his chest was heaving. He was upset. “Mr. McGarry,”
she reached out, pausing one of his hands on the plane seat in front of him,
“Leo.” “Yeah?” he tossed
it out, still not meeting her eyes, but drawing his fingers up as the flight attendant
handed him a water. He pulled a deep drink, closing his eyes as he drank. “What’s
wrong?” she begged in a low voice. He sighed into his glass,
dropping his head back, “Nothing Margaret, I just need…nothing.”
She watched him try to set the glass to his tray, seeing the water slosh as his
hand shook. With a fast breath she grabbed the glass from his fingers, slipping her hand
into his. Leo squeezed her fingers tightly then drank in a heavy breath. Delirium Tremens. The DT’s…
She’d read enough about…alcoholics, to understand what was going on. To
know what was happening to him. His body was still shivering a bit, eyes squeezed tight as
he bit back on the desire for a drink. The need for it so hard, so
strong that it was causing a physical reaction in his body. He needed it so bad… Nothing had brought it on
– and nothing could take it away. Except for a drink, and
she’d be damned if he’d have one of those.
Margaret watched his face carry a pained glance as his shaking settled, his fingers
still gripping hers tightly. He sighed hard as his body stilled in the plane seat. He was
drinking in heavy breaths, pulling the air into his lungs as he tried to relax into the
worn seat. Margaret watched his face ease. “Are you okay?”
she asked, a near whisper. Leo nodded quietly, not
daring glance her way, “Better…it’s getting better Margaret I
promise.” “Yeah, I screwed you
on that one.” She
chuckled softly; turning her back on the room as the Governor-turned-orator spoke clearly
through the room. “I screwed ya. Ya got
hosed.”
Margaret tugged her sweater tighter around her waist and grabbed a few folders,
slipping in among the tables. She was still grinning gently when she leaned over Leo,
settling the paperwork to his place setting. “You better not be
smiling at that.” He tossed back in a hush, knowing she was grinning ear to ear. “I swear I’m
not.” She chuckled through the answer, handing him his pen and catching his amused
eyes. “Thanks
Margaret.” He tossed his head towards the young man in the corner. “Keep your
eye on him for me huh?” “Josh Lyman?” she
asked quickly. “Yup.” He
grinned. Margaret nodded,
“Swaying him to our side by the oratorical skills of Governor Bartlet?”
Their voices were hushed and he nodded with a wide grin. She offered a fast smirk
and moved out of the way, back towards the outside of the room. She watched them both from
there. Eyeing them as Bartlet rolled in explanation for a milk price hike. Leo’s head
suddenly lifted, and she watched pride wash across his expressive eyes, respect in his
glance. Slowly he turned his head towards Lyman, and she did too. The young man’s
head had dipped up, attention focused on the A quick resolve in the
man’s eyes. Companions "Josh told me to come
tell you I’m gonna be his new assistant.” Margaret
chewed slowly on her sandwich, taking a breath as she studied the skinny blond before her.
She tossed a bemused glance to Ginger, pulling a heavy drink of her soda. “He hire you
himself?” she asked the blond slowly. “His funds, or campaign funds?” “Neither at the moment
I think.” She fidgeted while she spoke and Margaret offered a gentle smile in
support, waving to the open seat at the table. Donna dropped into her
chair; “He’ll probably talk with you about it later?”
Margaret nodded slowly in humor, running her tongue over her teeth. She smirked to
the other assistant and set her chin to her fist. “So what’s your
name?” “Donna Moss.” Her
eyes lilted in quiet relief. Margaret felt her smile
widen, “Well Donna Moss…welcome to Bartlet for “Thank you,” blue
eyes flashed in warmth, “I think.” “The Illinois
Margaret,” his grin told her more than she ever thought it could. “We won the He tugged her into a fast
hug, a laugh filtering through his words. “Hell yeah baby!”
She was laughing at his shoulder before she realized how close he had her. Her
hands just held tighter, enjoying the moment. Letting him enjoy the victory he’d
worked so damn hard to get. This wasn’t about It wasn’t about Jed
Bartlet. It was about Leo McGarry
and his forgiveness of sins. “I’m so proud of
you.”
He blinked as she whispered soft words against his shoulder. Leo tugged her closer,
closing his eyes and just sighing into the warmth she offered. She’d just given the
words he was begging for Jenny to whisper every night. Every damn night. “Thank you.”
She blinked him a smile, purposefully sliding a bit back. She realized fast that he
hadn’t let go, his arms still settled warmly about her waist. Margaret was a bit
tensed, the heat from his suit jacket seeping through her thin cotton shirt. “Leo.” He sighed, his eyes tripped
over her mouth, “I’m sober Margaret…and this is the best…” She sighed, feeling his
fingertips slide against her back. “Leo, don’t.” “This is the best
night of my life.” His voice was very low, and his eyes had tripped across hers,
refusing them to glance back to her frowning mouth. “She’s not here
Margaret,” his hand lifted to touch her jaw.
Damn it she tried to move. And at the same moment…she didn’t. He was
touching her so warmly, and his fingers were so nervous as they played over her skin. She
didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t want him
to…but someone…someone had to be the reasonable one. Right? “Don’t do
this.” She murmured slipping her eyes closed when his thumb skimmed her bottom lip. “She’s not
here…and you are.” His voice reverberated through her chest, catching her breath
in her throat. She
let him move close, easing his body into hers. Margaret sighed, ready to let him kiss her,
slipping her eyes closed as his lips brushed pasts hers warmly. His tongue teased against
her mouth and she started to respond, knowing…she was ready to let him kiss her. Ready
to let him do anything he damn well pleased. Good
god she was in love with him. “Leo.”
Her hands snapped hard to his chest, pushing him fast away.
He stood, watching her in heavy confusion, his cheeks flushed in red embarrassment.
His eyes thundered to hers in self-anger. He was mad at himself, and her, at Jenny. It
didn’t matter. He’d
kissed her…and this time there was no alcohol, no pills to blame. Leo
took a hard shuddering breath moving his hand against his forehead and she heaved a breath
of her own across the room. “Margaret
I’m sorry.” He said in a rush of air. Her
hand flew up fast; “Don’t …talk yet.”
He watched her own fingers brush against a flushed cheek, and then brush at her
eyes. He watched her refuse tears and in his stomach he knew there was something more than
anger in her voice. Something like pain. Pain…he
understood. She was in love with him. And wasn’t he a little
in love with that idea? With her? He didn’t know. Leo
swallowed; watching as her back straightened again and she looked him hard in the eyes.
Her chest was hitched in breath; eyes steady as he reached out a hand. Knowing that if she
let him touch her in that moment – things would happen that heaven would never
forgive him for. That Jenny McGarry would never forgive him for. His hand snapped back to
his side when the door slammed open fast.
He didn’t move his eyes from hers at first; only let them wash across her
stricken face. It was the heavy hurt breath from Lyman that caught his attention, the
strangled tone when the younger man made his name across the room. “Leo?”
He looked to the other man in mild perturbation, not expecting the ragged glance,
and red-shot eyes. He hadn’t expected the look of utter loss on the younger
man’s face. “Josh?” he
questioned moving a step towards Lyman. “What is it?” “My father,” the
man swallowed hard, looking to the former Labor Secretary in pure and bright fear,
“He’s gone.” “Joshua?” Leo
demanded in hurt, looking for a different answer. “He’s gone.”
They hadn’t talked about it yet, and he had the distinct idea that they
wouldn’t be really talking anytime soon. He silently took the clothes she handed him,
settling them into his suitcase, choosing the quiet over the conversation they both
dreaded. They wouldn’t talk about it. Maybe if Noah Lyman
hadn’t….no, they still wouldn’t have talked about it. No…they wouldn’t
have. “You’re ticket is
open-ended. I didn’t know if you’d want to stay with the family or not.”
She handed him his overnight bag, pulling an envelope of tickets from the outer pocket. “Jenny’s gonna
meet me there?” he questioned slowly, taking the tickets and tucking them into his
inside pocket. “Yes.” Her tone
was tight. He totally understood why. Talk of the wife, after
actions, which hadn’t even been excusable under the influence. He understood exactly why. “Are you okay?”
she questioned quickly. Leo blinked, “I think
I should be asking you that.” He watched her chest rise
in certain indignation, her brow arched and eyes bright, “I’m fine Leo.” He shifted, bag in hand,
“Margaret…I didn’t mean to - ” “I’m fine.”
She murmured, “But you’re not.”
He sighed with a careful nod. She watched him shift onto the bed, sitting easily on
the hotel mattress. He wiped his face with a tired hand, scrubbing the hurt from his
expression. “He was a good friend
Margaret.” He turned his eyes back to her, “And his son is…just like
him.” “How do you work with
the son, when he’s so much like the father?” she questioned in quiet resolution,
knowing that was what he was thinking. He nodded in soft agreement, watching her cross her
arms over her chest. “You love the son as
your own.” She supplied, dropping her head a little lower to catch his attention. Leo
nodded with a gentle smile, finally finding a solid ground between them. He smiled to her
warmly, feeling their interaction strengthen. There was less pain slipping between them
and more care. He had the idea it was on her part more than his. She worried about him
more than his wife did…more than he worried about himself. She knew him better than
his wife. That was the problem. Was it a problem? Leo
stood fast, reaching for his coat and tidying his bags, getting ready to leave. She held
his overnight out, watching as he tucked the coat on broad shoulders. Leo sighed, taking
the bag with a well-matched grin. “Like my own?” he
questioned with an almost teasing smirk. Margaret nodded with a
smile, and a soft hand to his arm, “Yeah.” “Okay.” He
sighed. “Okay.”
He stared quietly at his wife, realizing that somewhere in the years –
he’d stopped understanding her. Stopped wanting to understand her. It was disturbing,
and yet oddly comfortable. Leo blankly watched Jenny, his eyes trailing her movements as
she gave Noah’s wife a supposedly sweet embrace. Stopped
understanding…or stopped loving. Or maybe both? He
wasn’t sure.
With a discouraged sigh he moved into Josh and his mother. After a soft kiss to the
mother, he turned to the son. Leo sighed softly. “I’m here for
you.” He informed him gently, “Don’t you forget that.” Lyman smiled softly,
looking thin in his black breasted suit, “Sure I won’t when we get into the
White House.” “Tempting fate.”
Leo nudged him softly in the chest, a weak smile between them. Josh nodded again,
“Toby would beat me senseless.” “Tell you to go spit
or something.” Leo added and they shared a bemused grin, decidedly not talking of
their emotions. Leo breathed heavy again, feeling the weight of his own black suit. He
glanced to his wife, finding the thought of her embrace cold. Instead he turned back to
Lyman, his hand moving to the younger man’s arm. “I meant it.” Josh smiled weakly, “I
know.” Paramours They became
adulterers…trespassers in their minds. No action passed the rights it should have. No
wayward touches, and no more kisses. No meaningful words or any such nonsense. It was in the head, and in
the eyes.
Suddenly the savoring glance he so long kept for Jenny O’Brien-turned-Jenny
McGarry, was being tossed unknowingly to a lanky redhead. He’d watch her move,
twisting and easing her way through campaign headquarters, easily doling out tasks to
those around her. Easily being in control. He’d been startled by nighttime thoughts
of a woman not his wife. And still…in no way
did he try to stop it. Because he saw the same
glances flash in her eyes across mahogany and coffee. And he was satisfied to
have a silent and non-existent affair with his secretary. And she with him.
His glance tended to burn through her clothes, and it ate her right up. Margaret
shifted slightly, easing herself to face him as she sat across the table from the other
assistants. She played with her yogurt, not eating it, just watching quietly as he glanced
across the mess.
He smirked when she caught his stare, and almost flushed under her arched glance.
He quirked a smile, cocking his head playfully and rolling his eyes. Leo turned away from
her and her breathing finally settled.
They had calmed any emotions that might have fallen between them. Letting the
running of the White House became an every moment priority. Their breath and action
controlled by the people and the President, and any feelings were trampled among Press
Briefings and reports and memos and meetings. Still there was something
in the daytime glances that seemed to speak volumes. But never moved them any
closer to action.
Her hands were shaking, and it was annoying the hell out of her. Margaret eased the
letter back into the envelope and settled it on the top of Leo’s pile. She moved her
hands to the other letters, and yet her glance and thoughts were still on the fat manila
envelope to her right. “Margaret!”
She mildly smirked, rising and grabbing the envelope, stalking into his office with
a little less confidence than usual. She moved into the room, smile gone, retrieving the
memos he was holding up for her. She tucked them under one arm while laying the envelope
gently before him. “From Jenny’s
lawyers.”
His shoulders slumped and she blinked away before he looked up. She didn’t
want to see the pained glance she knew he’d lift to her. The pale blue washed pain
that he’d tossed her often enough. Usually in drunken moments, or when the pills had
stolen his body from him. “I’ll look at it
later.” He murmured, shifting the papers farther away from him, reaching for more of
his own work. Easing his arm and mind past the divorce proceedings. She moved from the office
slowly, “Okay.” Lovers You’re a good girl Margaret.
She sighed hard, dropping heavily against the couch cushions. She shifted the bowl
of ice cream onto a cushion, sucking lightly on the spoon. Three o’clock in the
morning and television was absolutely dangerous. If it wasn’t a bad repeat of some
dead eighties show, it was exercise machines, or pasta makers. Hell…even Sesame
Street was re-running. Granted it was the episodes from the seventies.
She was watching Family Matters and half
expected to doze into her Peanut Butter swirl when the knock on the door caught her
attention. In her drowsiness, she had the mind that it was on the show. Yet the loud
thumping endured past commercial time. “Yeah?” she swung
open the door, her nearly empty bowl left at the coffee table. “If I didn’t come
here…it would have been the bar.”
His voice dropped somewhere in the doorway, and so did his hands. She watched his
eyes fall as well in mild embarrassment. Leo pulled a deep deep breath, trying to shake
away the heaviness at his shoulders. “I shouldn’t be
here.” “Come here.”
Margaret reached out, tugging lightly on his woolen coat, pulling him past the door, and
shutting it behind him. She felt his eyes against her pajamas as she turned back towards
him. “She divorced me
Margaret.” He shivered under his coat, “After alcohol and pills.
After…everything else. I make it to the White House - I make something of myself
– and she divorces me.” She sighed, studying the
tired face before her, “You didn’t need her anymore.” “But I do.” He
whispered, slumping back against the hallway wall. His eyes lifted up, roving the ceiling. Leo brushed a hand over his throat. “I do
Margaret.” She pulled a deep breath
and crossed her arms over cotton pajamas; “You didn’t need her as a wife Leo,
but as life support.” His eyes tossed a glare in
her direction, “Life support? You think that’s why she stayed with me for years,
because I needed her to live?” “Well didn’t
you?” she demanded.
He eased closer to her, his eyes in thick fury. One brow arched, he crossed his
arms over his chest as well, their elbows nudging in the low-lit hallway. Leo gave her a
pointed glance. “Yes.” He
admitted mildly angrily. “But I needed her as my wife too. I need her as my
wife.” She sighed heavily,
“You don’t.” “I do.” He
demanded, his hands suddenly very fast to her arms, gripping her tightly. Margaret let
herself ease against his fingers, her eyes meeting his.
He shuddered, “I
need…” “Don’t.” she
whispered, knowing exactly where this was going. Knowing this time she
wouldn’t stop it. No wife…no reason.
He shook his head, catching her glance. Leo
licked his lips, letting his eyes move gracefully across her mouth. His fingers eased
mildly up her arms. “You don’t mean
that.” He whispered and caught her glance. She shivered, letting his
hands stroke down her shoulders, “Yes I do.”
He smirked an odd smile. His fingers had moved even farther down her arms,
stretching against her hands. Leo watched her breath hitch her chest. He slid in closer to
her, catching the soft noise that she made. “Margaret.” He
murmured, ready to leave if she asked. The smile touching his lips widened a bit when her
fingers stroked fast over his lips. “I didn’t mean
it.” She spoke fast. Leo shuddered a breath,
“I know.” “You don’t need
her Leo.” She informed him. He sighed, “I
know.”
She gave him a gentle moan – a sound he’d never gotten from her before.
He drank it in heavy when he pushed into her body. Leo moved his mouth to hers, sighing
into the heavy kiss. He walked her back until she was pressed up against the hallway wall.
Leo slipped his hands into forbidden red locks. Her hands were tight on his lapels,
tugging him even closer as he slid his tongue past hers. This was what he wanted. And he knew...it was what
she wanted. God,
everything was exactly how he’d imagined it, and yet nothing like he’d imagined
it. Her hair smelled even better when he was this close. Her skin was softer and seemed so
pliant and pale and perfect. Her body, so well memorized, was curving the exact way
he’d expected it to curve. And yet he’d never
heard her voice whisper in pure lust like that. He’d never watched
fire light across her eyes. And he’d
never…never touched her so fully. She never said words like
that. She’d never begged for
anything before…until that night. Conspirators
She blinked in the shadows, entirely aware that his eyes were matching hers.
Margaret sighed softly, facing the man in her bed. She felt him shift and her fingers
tugged slowly out of his. “You’re gonna
leave aren’t you?” she asked gently. He let off a heavy breath
of pain; “We shouldn’t have Margaret.”
She was a bit surprised that she wasn’t crying. He was about to leave –
ready to make his way out of her bed. Margaret bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. “Leo.” She
whispered softly. He
froze on the mattress and suddenly she felt his fingers slip back against hers. She laced her hands tightly in his as they lay
facing each other in the bed. She pulled a heavy breath, stilling her body. “Don’t go.”
She begged him softly. “For the sake of ten years Leo…don’t go.”
He made no move, only sat in the silence. Leo swallowed hard and flickered his eyes
shut. With a breath and an ease of decision he moved his arms, pulling her up and against
his body. She seemed to melt against him so quickly, so easily. He sighed into her hair,
pulling in the scent and making it a memory. “We shouldn’t
have.” He repeated gently in the shadows. Her fingers dug against his
skin, “You shouldn’t have kissed me at the Christmas party, or in Illinois Leo.
If we’re making a list of shouldn’t haves – add me to your list.” “What?” he
snapped quickly. “I shouldn’t have
trusted myself with you.” She murmured against his chest, tugging even closer as she
spoke, “I shouldn’t have gone to the private sector with you. I shouldn’t
have been in Illinois. I shouldn’t have fallen in love with you.” “Margaret - ” Her
fingers snapped to his lips, pausing his words. He froze as she stroked her hands across
his face, shaking her head in the shadows. “Leo, if you’re
gonna go – just go.” Her breath shuddered, “If you wanna stay – then
stay.” “I’m sorry.” She didn’t cry until
after he’d left. Haters She hated him for every
reason in the book.
For stupid things, like the way he wanted his coffee. The fact she got his coffee
for him without thought. She hated that he knew she would do it. That no matter what - Margaret would type the memos and send out the
files and get him his god damn coffee. She didn’t like the
fact he knew where she kept her coffee at home. That he knew she liked
French Vanilla. She
hated that he knew how her skin felt. That he knew she had black cotton sheets and that
every candle in her house smelled of Vanilla or Peach. She despised that she’d given
him every secret she could manage to hand over – and that he’d left with them in
his back pocket. She detested his cologne,
but only because it made him smell so incredible. She abhorred him for loving
her, while in silent protest of that love. And she hated him for
leaving. Most of all – she
hated him because she couldn’t stop loving him.
She was pissed, which he knew was entirely understandable. She was still getting
her work done, but in a seething silence rather than their usual banter. He was watching
her move about his office in contempt of its occupant. Leo sighed and studied her as he
handed over his paperwork and took the letters she offered. Finally…he was done.
He wouldn’t deal with this anymore. “If you hate me so
much Margaret just quit.” He murmured. She looked up at him in
anger, fury across her eyes, “I work less than forty feet from the Oval Office Leo
McGarry – and I’ll be damned if I quit the American people because you wanted to
screw around with your secretary.” “Margaret!” he
stood, his own voice dropped in vehemence. “What Leo?” she
laughed. The sound of it hurt him
more than he ever thought it could. “You’re gonna
fire me now?” she begged, brow arched. “Cuz I’d like to see you explain
that situation to President Bartlet and his senior staff.” “Explain what
situation?”
They froze in unison, eyes matched as Jed Bartlet moved his way into the room, arms
crossed and eyes rugged. He studied them both and tossed them disappointed glances. “Nothing.” Leo
dropped. “You two are acting
like the Yorks and Lancasters here – let’s get this out in the open because God
knows I can’t deal with either of you like this.” “Leo wants me to quit,
Mr. President.” She murmured softly, her eyes still matching McGarry’s. “I don’t.”
he demanded, voice steel and low. Not at all the yelling she’d expected. Just a solid tone of
despair. She
just stood; quietly staring at him while Jed Bartlet threw his hands in exasperation. Her
breath fell from her chest and she smiled softly. McGarry’s frown deepened when she
let the smile cross her face fully. It was an odd and hurtful smile. He hated it. “Then stop telling me
to.” He breathed a heavy sigh;
taking the truce she was offering. Leo nodded softly and
dropped his head, “Okay, so get back to work.” She turned on her heel and
left him with the President. “You didn’t
Leo,” Jed shook his head, “You just didn’t.” He glanced back to his
friend, “Yes I did.” “You slept with
her.” Jed dropped, eyes darkening. “Worse than
that.” Leo huffed in odd humor, “I fell for her.”
She was absent mindedly flipping through Vogue, chewing in her lip as she stood in
the over-crowded grocery store. Margaret sighed softly, eyeing Julia Roberts, wondering at
the sudden hair change. It did absolutely nothing
for her. “Margaret?”
Her head lifted quickly at the nearly known voice. It was a tone that she’d
not heard in quite a few months. A tone that had become so very well known, so very
well…despised. And yet respected. “Mrs. McGarry?”
she straightened, easing around to look the woman in the face. “O’Brien
Margaret, Jenny O’Brien.” The older elegant woman corrected, her eyes dark but
gentle. Margaret
nodded with a soft smile, closing the magazine and just fidgeting a bit before the other
woman. God so many time they’d faced each other. But always the wife and the
secretary. Never Margaret and Jenny. “How have you
been?” she asked gently, a soft smirk on her lips. The well dressed woman
seemed to shrug without really moving her body. “Fine. As well as can be expected I
think. Mallory said she saw you just last week with Leo.” “It was a lunch
meeting with Senators Haynes and Brighton.” Margaret shook her head, wondering why
she was making excuses. Jenny O’Brien
wasn’t his wife anymore. “I see.” Jenny
nodded, her voice dropping a bit. It was almost a motherly tone. “I thought you two
were probably just getting to know each other better.” If she only knew the half
of it. Getting to know him…or
knowing him. Really…really knowing him. “We know each other quite well Mrs. O’Brien.” Margaret
murmured, eyes darkened. She
knew a challenge of convictions when she saw one. This woman was severely hurt by her
broken relationship with Leo McGarry. Funny they should both be
hurt by the same man…and yet both still defend him. Lifelines
They still weren’t happy with each other. He hadn’t figured they would
be, but he was starting to miss her. He missed the quirky little jokes and comments. He
missed her pen tapping against his desk as he dictated letters. He missed the way she
rolled her eyes when Josh thundered in about an emergency that wasn’t really an
emergency. She wasn’t his
Margaret. He figured it was his
fault.
Still, they were slipping together in tandem. Moving back into rhythm and style in
work and thoughts and voice. The two of them easing back into camaraderie. Their movements
were matching again, their voices matching. Their breathing… “I put your paperwork
together for the Rossalyn trip,” she murmured gently, “Just make sure you call
me on the cell when you get out of there.” “Margaret - ” She lifted her hand in
exasperation, “If you call me as you’re leaving I can get the paperwork together
for the Senate hearing and we can have it finished at a mildly decent hour.” Leo smirked softly,
“All right. I’ll call from the car.” “You might wanna grab
your cell then.” She pointed apathetically to his phone as it was silent on his desk
corner. There was a trace of a smile on her lips. He laughed softly, reveling
in the fact she was still being a smartass, “Talk later.” “Yeah.” Bastard – god he was a
bastard.
She closed her eyes, trying to settle her breathing, and hold her hands still at
the same time. Margaret blinked her eyes back open watching the television before her.
She’d done what she needed; made the calls that needed to be made. The Senate
paperwork was sitting unused on the corner of his desk. He still hadn’t
called. God he hadn’t called. “Damn it where are
you?!”
He shivered, slumping hard against the cool stone of the wall, his forehead
pressing the outside of the building. He’s needed some fresh air; he was unsure
he’d be getting any with a crowd of black suits the length of a football field around
him. “I’m at GW.”
He murmured gently, rubbing his forehead with shaky fingers. He heard her sharp breath,
“Are you all right? Donna just left, we heard about the President, is he - ” “Margaret,” he
broke her words, “Josh is worse.” There was a wary pause from
her end of the phone line, “What do you mean Josh is worse?” He shuddered into the cell
phone, “He was hit…they don’t know…” “Jesus Leo,” her
voice was sounding nearly as desperate as his was. He sighed as she pulled a heavy breath
across the snapping phone line. “Are you okay?” Her
demand caught his attention and he turned, slumping his back against the wall, eyes
slipped closed to the sea of black fabric about him. God every one of the men that circled
him was a foot taller than he was. Something he should be
thankful for… “Leo?!” there was
thick command and concern in her tone. “Yeah,” he
whispered softly into the phone, “yeah baby I’m fine.”
He reveled in the soft term he used, hearing her sigh against the phone as he
spoke. He opened his eyes, catching the wondering glance of a Secret Service Agent then
turning back against the wall. “I’m okay, a
little shaky but…” “Did Ron get you in a
car?” she begged softly. He shook his head, “No
Tony.” “Tony’s the
President’s point man Leo, how close were you?!” her demand was frantic. He
didn’t speak and he caught the shudder of her breath on the other end of the phone.
He could hear his own phone shrilly ringing in the background. She was ignoring it. He sighed, “Close
enough Margaret.” “Where was
Andrew?” she demanded, wondering at Leo’s own Agent. Leo sighed, “On the
ground. He…he went for me. Tony was in the way.” “Leo - ” “Listen baby, can I
just…can you get the group together. I need to meet with everyone, Nancy,
Fitz…” he let his voice drop off in lethal complacence. “I got it.” She
said gently, “Just…be careful.” “I will.” He
promised gently, easing his fingers over his forehead again. “I’ll be there
soon.” “Leo.” She caught
his attention. “Yeah?” She took a deep breath,
“Check on Donna for me?” “Sure.” He
nodded, knowing she couldn’t see him. “And get your ass back
here.” She told him in a tone of cool derision. She was pissed. Leo nearly smirked, “I
promise.”
Her chest was rising quickly in heaving breath, her eyes frantic as they searched
his face. Leo tried to keep a passive glance as he stood in the doorway of his office. He
moved toward her, a hand lifted. “Just…you’re
pissed cuz I didn’t call I know. I kind of have more important things - ” She slapped him. The
sting of her hand across his cheek was less painful than the look of utter pain in her
glance after she’d smacked him. She stood there, staring at him in hurt. He felt his
cheek heat up quickly, the blood rushing the skin red where she’d hit him. “Damn you…you
should have called.” Her eyes were hard, voice tight, “And you shouldn’t
have left.” He stared at her quietly,
seething in silence; “This is a discussion for later.” “I thought you were
lying in the street Leo.” Her voice was cool, “We can discuss it now or later,
it doesn’t matter. I’m pissed.” He grabbed his folders off
his desk and made his way out the office, heading for the Situation room, “I’ll
keep it in mind Margaret.”
His cheek was still flushed by the time he left the meeting, the thoughts and
voices of the Chiefs still ringing in his ears. Don’t mess with us
tonight…not tonight. Never on a night when his
two strongest were riddled with death. Leaden death. Millimeters
and chambers, rounds and shots. Blood…and more blood.
Leo moved into his office quietly, finding her in his seat, on his phone –
owning his office. She wore it as if it were her own, as if she’d earned the desk and
title more than he had. Sometimes he thought she probably had. He
cleared his throat softly as she tapped her fingers in a tight drum roll across his desk.
Her eyes lifted and he found them dark, brooding almost. She was on hold, he was sure. “I hate
hospitals.” She murmured, gaze dropping as she moved to stand. Leo waved her back
into the seat, tossing his papers to his desk and slipping behind her, leaning across to
type his password into his computer, leaving one hand warm on her shoulder. “I’m going back
over soon,” he offered, “You should come.” “No.” she
answered quietly, hanging up the phone in anger. Leo
moved back as she rose from his desk, sliding around the mahogany, and moving her eyes to
his slowly. “You wanna talk a
minute?” he asked in a low murmur, shifting past the keyboard, pulling up one of the
files he needed printed. “Maybe.” She
answered testily. “C’mon.” he
whispered, eyes low. Margaret
shifted her shoulders and moved her glance to him, her eyes matching his clearly. Leo
watched her tighten her jaw, her eyes starting to shadow. Suddenly he realized exactly
what was going on… She was still
scared…still hurt. So was he but…this was
different. “I’m fine
Margaret.” He whispered, moving towards her. She shook her head, a hand
sliding to her forehead, “I just…all the sudden I saw you in a parking lot,
covered in blood and…God Leo.”
He watched her turn, moving to walk out his office door. Leo reached out, taking a
quick step to grab her and hold her in his office. He grabbed her arms in his hands,
keeping her close before him. She wouldn’t look up…and it almost didn’t
bother him. He couldn’t stand the
fact that she was crying – and he knew it. “Please
don’t.” he whispered, sliding her against his chest, pulling her head against
his. Leo
slid his fingers into her hair, pressing a soft kiss to her hair, then another to her
skin, letting his lips drop over her cheek. “The same images Leo,
over and over…and you never called.” Her hand thumped on his chest, still trying
to fight him, “And all I could think about was that…we never talked about it.
You left that night and we never talked about it, and I thought you were dead.” “Stop Margaret.”
He begged softly, his hands moving her head up.
Leo caught the raw hurt in her glance, and it made him shudder his breath. He
stroked his hands up her throat, moving to her face. He let himself touch her lips and
jaw. “Leo - ” “Please?” he
begged her softly, his own throat tight, “Don’t argue with me.
Don’t…don’t cry. Just…be my Margaret here, cuz I can’t handle
this right now. I can’t handle them in the hospital…and you’re not with me
here.” She looked to him sharply,
“I’m with you.” “You’re mad at
me.” He murmured, studying her bright eyes. His fingers still held her face lightly
to his. She shuddered a breath;
“You left.” He shook his head, breath
rushed, “I couldn’t stay.” He watched her break out of
his arms, “Why?!” “I couldn’t hurt
you…not like I did Jenny.” He answered quietly. Her eyes were fire,
“So you decided you could hurt me a totally different way?” Her
hand nudged against his chest, sliding against his coat lapel and then his neck. She
tugged him close; “This hurt more Leo.” “I’m sorry.”
He murmured softly. She sighed, “I know
you are.”
She’d never known the younger woman to cling to anyone so tightly. Margaret
just held Donna close, pressing her face in the other aide’s shoulder. “It’s okay
honey.” Margaret lifted a hand, smoothing over her friend’s hair. She blinked
up, catching the glance of Abigail Bartlet.
She had never seen the First Lady look anything but elegant and classic. This was a
rather startling moment. Abbey Bartlet wasn’t the First Lady…just a wife. And she thanked God she
wasn’t in her situation.
Margaret slowly let go of Donna, tucking the blonde’s hair behind her ears and
smiling in soft support. She pressed a quick kiss to her friend’s forehead and moved
her back into her chair beside the First Lady. “Ma’am.” She
murmured softly. “Hi Margaret.”
God…even her voice was weak. This night was the
devil’s night. God had certainly closed
his ears to her world. Had he been listening
– two brilliant men wouldn’t be in danger. One of them wouldn’t
be mostly-dead. “Come here.” He
moved out a hand, his voice as close to begging as she’d ever heard it. She
linked her fingers loosely in his, easing into the small waiting room with him. Leo
dropped his head, pressing his forehead to hers. His fingers tightened on
hers, “I’m sorry for leaving.”
She was mildly aware that CJ and Toby were talking on the other side of the room,
and yet – she didn’t care. He was whispering words
more important than propriety. “I wanted to
stay,” he sighed moving his mouth to kiss her skin gently, “I was scared.” “I know.” She
murmured, closing her eyes as his hands slid against her face. He sighed and she caught
the slow breath. “Look at me.” He
asked softly. She
did after a moment of silence to herself. She found his eyes honest and open, settled on
her glance. Margaret shivered at the emotion he was projecting. “Leo - ” “I won’t leave
again.” He promised softly, his breath teasing her jaw. She blinked at him, “I
believe you.” “Good,” he slid
his hands against her hair, pulling her face to his, “Because I need you with
me…I can’t do this.” She
pressed a fast kiss to his mouth, not realizing that the entire Communications team was
watching from the far corner. “Yes you can.” He shook his head,
“Not by myself.” She kissed him gently
again, “You’re not by yourself.” He grinned mischievously,
“Okay, and I promise I’ll always call.” “Damn well
better.” Familiars
Her brow was furrowed when she stepped towards her desk. Margaret sighed; glancing
back quickly at the two black suits only feet away. Andrew Gibson, the broad shouldered
Secret Service Agent, she knew. The
man was nearly a foot higher than she was – which was drastic high to begin with. His
blond curls cut short and clean, blue eyes dark in the fluorescent lighting. He was Leo
McGarry’s political shadow. His hired gun. “Andy what’s
going on?” she faced Leo’s Service Agent openly, her eyes glancing to the
shorter brunette woman at his right. The other agent was studying Margaret blankly, a
smile nearly quirking her lips, her own blue eyes flashing brighter than Andrew’s. “Nothing
ma’am.” Andy shrugged softly, a smirk touching the corner of his mouth.
“Just following Presidential orders.” “Exactly which
orders?” she set a hand on her hip, the other fingers reaching for her coat. She
pulled it up and moved to put it on. “The ones Mr. McGarry
proposed yesterday morning.” He answered
slowly, “and the President signed off on this
morning.” “Talking in circles
Andy.” She commented, dragging up her purse, pulling her ID badge. The blond man shifted in
his shoes, “When on official business, every direct aide to the Senior Staff will be
assigned a Secret Service agent, until further notice from the Chief of Staff.” “You’re
kidding.” Her hips shifted, eyes knowing. “No ma’am,”
he grinned his best cute boy grin, “Mr. McGarry specifically asked that Agent Rourke
be assigned to you, I was just showing her to you.” “Leo!” she turned
fast on her heel, heading directly into the Chief of Staff’s office. Her heels
hitting his carpet quickly before she tossed his door closed.
Andy turned to the younger Agent with a bemused grin, eyes flashing in humor. He
nudged the shorter woman’s shoulder with an almost laugh. They shared a glance. “You get the
redhead.” Andy chuckled. The female agent shook her
head in amusement; “Yeah thanks.” “C’mon Maxie
– she’s not as bad as it looks.”
They both winced slightly, sharing a glance when Leo McGarry’s tone snapped
out of the office, words not discernable. They
were yelling – which to Andy was nothing new – and yet it seemed to intimidate
the newer Agent. “She’s really a
sweet woman,” he chuckled softly, eyeing Maxine Rourke’s mildly frightened
glance, “She just likes to…get him riled up.” “They always been like
this?” Maxine waved a hand, watching the door as she caught laughter. Laughing after
fighting…okay. “Yeah,” Andy
grinned, shrugging softly, “It just gets funnier the longer they work together.” “How does lunch
sound?”
The brunette woman seemed to eye her on a mild confusion. Agent Rourke glanced to
Margaret and shook her head softly. “Excuse me?” “I’m going to
lunch, you have to go with me anyways, have lunch with me.” The redheaded assistant
spoke gently, “We can gossip or something.” “I’m actually on
duty; I’ll take a break for lunch later.” Maxine shook her head with a thankful
smile. Margaret arched her brow,
“You’re just gonna stand there and watch me eat? Oh…no way.” “Okay,” Maxine
smirked, “but I gotta keep a limit on the gossip.” The redhead grinned back,
“Of course…we’re just gonna dish on Carol dating Ron Butterfield.”
The shorter woman seemed to straighten even more, her eyes went mildly wide as
Margaret finally pulled on her coat, slipping it past her shoulders and grabbing her
purse. “As in Carol from the
Press Office – and Ron, the President’s Agent?” Maxine asked quietly as
they made their way towards the security exit. Margaret laughed softly,
“Oh yeah, they got caught in the hospital, she went postal on him when he
wouldn’t let the doctors fix his hand and everyone started to figure. I’m a
little peeved that she didn’t tell us before.” “Well Ron can keep a
secret if you know what I mean.” Another grin from the
redhead, “I’m sure he can.” “And what about the
gossip surrounding a certain Chief of Staff and his lead aide?” Maxine teased gently,
testing the ground between them. They
hit the first security point, pulling their IDs and Margaret flashed her a knowing grin. “I have no idea what
you’re talking about.” Maxie smiled, “No
comment from the White House.” Margaret grinned back,
“Well we don’t comment on procedure.”
He sighed into her, letting her fingers have the run of his body. Leo eased deeper
into the bed, relaxing as she rubbed circles in his back. He felt the grin rise on his
mouth as she slid circles lower on his back. He tucked his face against the pillow,
tugging it deeper under his head. Margaret began to run her fingertips against his
waistband and he just laughed. “Are you hinting at
something?” he asked in humor. “Yeah,” she
sighed, feigning apathy; “I want your pants off.”
He just laughed, rolling onto his back and tugging her playfully across his chest
as he moved. The laughter in her eyes betrayed the supposed huff of indignation she tossed
out. “But nothin’ of
mine comes off, until all of yours does.” He teased, wrapping his finger in a lock of
her hair. “You sexist
bastard.” She slapped him playfully in the chest. “That’s sexual harassment
– I’m telling the President.” Leo chuckled,
“He’s got no sympathy for women like you. He doesn’t suffer teases
well.” Margaret arched a brow,
“But he obviously suffers fools flawlessly.” “Oh,” he laughed
as he pinned her back against the bed; “You’re in for it.”
Her toss of laughter caught his ears as one hand hit the ticklish spot on her
pelvis. Leo chuckled himself, his hands teasing her body as she tried to fight him off
half-heartedly. In a thoughtless moment he dropped his mouth heavy to hers, drinking in
the kiss she returned him. Leo eased into her body as she settled still beneath him. “God you’re sexy
like this.” He sighed into her lips. She smirked, running her
hands up his chest, “Like what?” “A smartass.” He
answered complacently, brushing his lips past hers again in warmth and comfort. Margaret
passed her own kiss up his jaw, moving her mouth to his ear. “I learned from the
best.” Leo chuckled, “Well I
take pride in my work.” Click Leo and Margaret to send feedback:
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