Chapter Text
The Precipice of Choice - 1
Leo McGarry
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing for a bit.
I am not the guy who remembers to tell you I love you. I won’t remember to send flowers, or candy on Valentine’s Day. Obviously, I do not remember anniversaries. I am not warm and fuzzy or cute and cuddly. I am more likely to fall asleep on the couch under a pile of work than curled against you watching a movie. I’ll forget to eat so I won’t remember to take you out to dinner. I am about as imperfect a human being as you’ll find.
I have made more mistakes in my life than good choices, and whether it is a mistake or a good choice, I seem to do it up big. Jenny was one of my good choices and the result was Mallory who I love so much I get giddy thinking of her. And I am a guy who doesn’t do giddy, but if she knew how much I loved her even she would be shocked speechless. She is the good thing, no, the great thing, that came from the marriage that I destroyed. Another good choice was getting my best friend to run for President. He is that one great mind in a lifetime. I love him too. For being my friend, for saving me when I didn’t care to save myself. That one thing, giving him to the American people, should redeem me.
But it doesn’t, as good as it is, as he is, it doesn’t absolve me. I am an alcoholic. I am a drug addict. Always will be. You’re never ‘cured’. You’re always on the edge, balanced on the precipice of choice. The choice to fall or the choice to keep clean one more day. Some days I only stay clean because I am too tired to contemplate the effort of that drink.
I’ve killed. As a pilot. As a patriot. And still, because of that, I don’t sleep at night. I know I can never be absolved of that guilt. Be it for whatever reason, people have died because of a choice I made. When I close my eyes, I see them, and they damn me. So, I stay awake as long as I can, working into the night, trying to do enough good to absolve the guilt. But it is never enough.
I wish I had a reason to go home. Someone to go home to. Someone to love. Like I said, I am not your cute and cuddly guy, but sometimes, the ache for someone to talk to in the long night, to touch, to feel, to chase away the darkness, the loneliness, is almost overwhelming. My gut aches and my chest constricts and then, only then, in the night, I can cry a little. Just a little. It sometimes helps. But mostly it doesn’t.
So, I sit here at my desk. The dim yellow glow from the lamp lights my desk and little more. The rest of the office is in darkness. Dim shadows from where the outlines of the furniture hulk silently. Kind of reminds me of myself. Surrounded by nothing, lit only from within.
Then my office door opens. She tells me to go home. I tell her to go home. She softly shakes her head. Her mantra; I sleep when you sleep. She gently closes the door, shutting out the light from her office, from her smile, from the red glow of her hair, from the strength of her heart. She has such a good heart. I don’t know why she stays, but she does. I think I would shrivel up and perish if she ever left. I don’t know if I would have the strength, the will, the desire to keep going on if she left. I never want to find out. I pray to God I never have to find out.