Only a Friend Can Say
By bluejeans

<August, 1959: Concord, New Hampshire>

It began, strangely enough, with a bicycle crash.

15-year-old Leo McGarry was standing in front of his new house -- and
hating it. He missed his friends in Boston. For a reason that was
unfathomable to Leo, his mother had decided to uproot her little
family just before Leo started high school and drag them from Boston
to Concord.

The new house was nice enough; perhaps more importantly, it
didn't echo with memories of Leo's father. Still, to a teenager, such
things pale in comparison to the crisis of having no friends.

Leo had glumly decided that the rest of his life would be awful.

That's when it happened.

A blur of red bicycle came flying down Leo's road, took a corner
too fast, careened over a curb, and crashed into a tree.

Leo stood, riveted to the ground, until he heard a moan drift over
the thoroughfare. Then his usual responsible nature kicked in, and
Leo ran over to help the . . . mess . . . piled up against the tree.

"Hey, you okay?" Leo asked.

"Ouch. Yes. No. I dunno. I think I'm stuck," a voice said
from somewhere under the pile of twisted metal and leaves.

Leo de-tangled boy and bike and came face-to-face with a sandy hared,
slightly nerdy, somewhat bloodied boy about his own age.

"Wow," Leo said as he helped the kid to his feet. "That
was quite a crash."

"Don't laugh," the kid said as he brushed leaves and dirt
off of his jeans.

"I'm not," Leo said, but he couldn't help the upward
twitch of his lips.

"You're new, aren't you?" the kid asked.
"What's your name? How old are you? Where are you from?"

"Whoa, what is this, an interrogation? I'm Leo McGarry. My
mom, sister and I just moved here from Boston. I'm 15."

"Hey, you're my age! Boston, eh? You know, they had an
important tea party there once."

"Yeah, I know . . . "

"This is going to work out great! I've never had a guy my age
in the neighborhood. I could show you the sites, introduce you to some
people. And you could help me figure out how to launch tomatoes at
cars without getting in trouble. Are you busy?" the kid asked.

"No, I'm not doing anything," Leo said, and he dared hope
that he would have a life again.

"C'mon then!" the boy said, forgetting his brush with
death and his ruined bicycle.

"Hey, wait. What's your name?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm Josiah Barlet. But my friends call me Jed."

<June 1963: A high school in Concord>

As the strains of "Pomp and Circumstance" filled the high
school gym, one of the graduates in the "B" part of the line turned
around and flashed a grin at his friend in the "M's."

It was a grand moment, and both boys knew it.

The boy in the B's launched a paper airplane at his partner in
crime. The boy in the M's deftly snagged it out of the air and unfolded
it.

"WE CAN DO ANYTHING!" was scrawled on the inside. The second
boy smiled, wrote a new message, refolded the airplane, and lobbed it
back.

"BUT ONLY TOGETHER."

<From a letter dated July 14, 1966: Airman Leo McGarry to Josiah Barlet>

Dear Jed,

Thank you for your last letter. Any reminder of home helps to take my
mind off of this terrible place. Jed, I can not describe to you the
squalor, the agony, the heat, the long nights, the sounds, the
smells, the things we have to do . . .

Sometimes I wonder if I am still human, or if I'm just . . . I don't
want to go there. I don't want to think about it.

Anyway, your letters and the stories of your escapades help to take
the edge of the horror.

Man, I sound depressing, don't I? Sorry.

As for your question: Ask her, idiot! Abby sounds wonderful and
charming (she'd have to be to love a moron like you), and it
looks to me like you are head-over-heels as well. So, buy a big ring, a dozen
roses, go on a picnic, get down on one knee, and ASK! As long as you
don't throttle her with trivia and ruin the moment by being you,
she'll say yes.

When she does, go ahead and set a date. I have no idea if . . . when
I'm coming home. So don't wait up for me. If I'm home,
I'll be at the wedding. If I'm not, I'll just be your best-man-in-absentee
from wherever I am – heaven or hell.

That's it for now. I can't really think of anything I've
been doing that would be of any interest. My days blur together. Write
again . . . soon! Tell me how it goes!

Take care,

Leo

<1971: Concord, New Hampshire>

Leo McGarry stood back, surveying the scene. He had his tongue
planted firmly in his cheek to keep his laughter from bubbling
through his lips.

"Bad day at the statehouse?" he asked innocently.

"It's not funny," Jed said. His arms were folded across
his chest and his glare alternated between his friend and the station wagon. Or
half of the station wagon, anyway.

The other half was on the other side of a . . . seriously
damaged . . . garage door.

Jed's stoic attitude was too much for McGarry, who finally gave
in to his mirth.

Jed sighed loudly and waited. "I'm glad I'm such a source
of amusement to you," he said.

"Oh . . . Wow," Leo said as he wiped tears from his eyes.
Then he glanced at the grumpy statesman standing next to him and lost his
composure again.

"Are you going to help me or just stand there and mock me?"
Jed asked.

"Can't I do both?"

"It's not funny."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't. Abby's going to kill me."

"You've got to admit, it's pretty . . ." and Leo was off again.

"Leo! Stop that!"

McGarry could only lean against the station wagon's scraped rear
bumper and gesture helplessly.

Barlet looked at his hysterical friend, the back half of the car, the
now-pathetic garage door, and back at Leo. Then he ruefully shook his
head at the whole ridiculous situation and allowed himself a small
smile.

The smile was a mistake; it was a chink in the armor of annoyance.
After a moment, Jed dissolved into the same useless state as his
companion.

<1993: Concord, New Hampshire>

"Hello?" Governor Josiah Barlet said into the telephone
beside his bed. It was late; late calls were never any good.

"Jed, it's me."

"Leo! Where are you? Jenny has been frantic . . ."

"Jed, I'm in trouble. I . . . I can't remember the last 3
days. Help me, please."

"Okay, Leo, it's okay. Where are you?"

"I'm laying in the middle of some parking lot . . . a hotel,
maybe? I've got my face in the asphalt here, Jed, and I don't think
I can get up. I am completely messed up. What have I done to myself?"

"What have you done? You've done exactly what I've been
begging you not to do for the last 30 years. And it's not like this happened
over night."

"I know, I know. I just couldn't . . ."

"Are you on your cell phone?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, keep talking to me. I'm going to find you. And then
we're going to get you to a rehab center, all right?"

"Sure."

"Hang on, buddy."

<1996: New Hampshire>

"So Leo," Josiah Barlet said as he handed his visitor a coke
and sat down on the couch across from him, "is this just a friendly
visit, or did you come up from DC for a reason?"

Leo shrugged and allowed his gaze to wander. "What, I need to
have a reason to see you?" he teased.

"You're welcome any time and you know it. It just seems
strange to me that you show up at my door in a business suit, fail miserably at
small talk while I get you a drink, and then fidget in my living
room. So you've either hit your head very hard, or you're
here because . . ."

" . . . Jed, I've got something to ask you," Leo
interrupted.

"Ask, then."

"How would you like to be president?"

There was a long pause. "Of the United States?" Jed finally
said.

"No, of the Federated States of Macronesia," Leo said
sarcastically. "Yes, of the United States."

Jed glanced up at his wife, who had come in from the kitchen at
Leo's startling question.

"You know," Jed said slowly, "I think I'd like that."

Leo leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. "Let's do
it, then."

<August 1999: Leo McGarry's residence>

"What can I do for you sir? You did what? Oh, for crying out
– it cost $4000, you know. I don't know what I was thinking lending it
to you, considering your history with bicycles. How did – oh, I see.

"Well, I guess you've got to expect these things. Annie is
precocious. She's also smart. She'll get over it. Yes,
I'll have the Secret Service look into it.

"No, no, no, it's fine. Don't worry about it. I'm
more pissed about Annie. Its not like I was riding the thing very often anyway.

"Yes sir. Right. See you soon. Goodbye."

<October 1999: The White House> (From the Season 1 episode "Mr.
Willis of Ohio" by Aaron Sorkin)

"I needed to speak to you about something," Leo said to the
President.

"Sure."

"I should have told you earlier but...I moved out of the house.
Jenny's asking me for a divorce," Leo said, his face grave.

The President stared at his friend. "You're kidding me?"
he asked.

"No."

"Leo, you're kidding me?!"

"No! . . . Jenny was not happy."

"Because you weren't spending enough time with her??"

"Yes, but that's not the –"

"Marriage needs attention Leo," the President interrupted.
"It can't run on auto-pilot. C'mon it's not your prom date we're
talking about here, we're talking about your family!"

"Well, Mr. President thank you for pointing that out," Leo
said in barely controlled anger. "I tried to squeeze in as much time as I
could between my wine-tasting club and running your White House."

"When did it happen?"

"Two weeks ago."

"And you're just now telling me?" Jed was hurt that his
friend would keep such news a secret.

"Honestly, I know how you feel about Jenny," Leo said. "I
thought you'd think that somehow you were responsible for it, and
you'd turn that guilt into an inappropriate anger toward me, which frankly I can
live without right now."

Jed threw Leo an exasperated look.

"I can't imagine what made me think all that . . ." Leo
continued in sarcasm and under his breath.

"Fix this Leo," the President commanded.

"It's not as simple as that."

"It is as simple as that. You're the man. Fix it."

"Mr. President –"

"Fix it," Jed repeated.

Leo clenched his jaw. "Goodnight sir," he said, making the
respectful title nearly a curse.

<January 2000: The White House Residence> (From the Season 1
episode "He Shall From Time to Time by Aaron Sorkin)

The President of the United States looked up from his bed as his
friend gingerly walked in. The hesitancy and pain in Leo's eyes
was unmistakable. Jed felt strangely ashamed.

"Abby told me about your conversation," the President began.
"The kind of Multiple Sclerosis I have is called relapsing-remitting.
I've known about it for the last 7 years.

"I have a normal life expectancy," he continued, "and recover
fully after an attack. Fever and stress are two things tend to bring on an
attack." He looked up at Leo and hated feeling this weak in front of him.

McGarry looked around the room for a moment. "Well, you're President
of the United States, you're delivering the State of the Union
Address tomorrow night, India and Pakistan are pointing nuclear
weapons at each other. And you have a 102 fever. So I guess we're out
of the woods.... " Leo tried to keep his voice even but his sarcasm
and fear broke through at the end.

"Jed, of all the things you could have kept from me...." Leo
sighed as he sat down.

"You haven't called me Jed since I was elected."

Leo ignored the comment. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Cause I wanted to be the president."

"It wouldn't have stopped me from getting you here. And I could have
been a friend."

"You've been a friend."

"But when it was time to really...."

"I know."

"When I was lying on my face in the motel parking lot you were the
one I called," Leo reminded his friend gently.

Jed's shame returned, and he changed the subject. "When you stood
up there today I was so proud. I wanted to be with you. I tried to get
up and I fell back down again.".

Leo knew what Jed was experiencing. It was hard to admit weakness, it
was hard to tell people that you had a problem. "I know the feeling,"
Leo said.

"Leo, I'm sorry." Jed was dangerously close to tears.

"Don't worry about it," Leo said out loud. But the
subtext communicated his love and unwavering support better than words ever
could.

<May 2000: The White House>

Leo McGarry had moved quickly through the halls of the White House on
many occasions; the historic corridors nearly vibrated with an
urgency that demanded swiftness even on normal days.

Today was not a normal day. And Leo was running.

This, despite the various parts of his body that were sending
alarming messages of hot pain to his brain.

The White House Chief of Staff made a quick turn and, with no
ceremony, crashed through the doors of the Oval Office.

The Chief Executive was sitting on his desk and holding his wife and
daughter. The family jumped at the sudden entrance – their nerves
were already badly frayed. Then, despite being caked in dirt, tears,
blood, and fear, Barlet allowed himself a tiny smile of relief.

His chest heaving, Leo locked eyes with the President. For one
hushed, charged moment, each man looked into the other's soul.

The silence was eerie, but understandable.

After 40 years of conversation, the two friends had crossed into the
one moment for which there were no words.