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CHAPTER VIII
Three months after the accident Leo had finished with therapy and his shoulder felt almost normal. He had regained most of the function in his fingers and was back to work full time and gearing up for re-election. Nan had been back to work full time for a month. Their personal life had settled into a routine that worked for them, spending weekdays at Leo’s and weekends at Nan’s. They were looking for a place that was theirs, a place they both could like. Nan loved Leo’s apartment, but she also enjoyed having a deck and a pool. They would sit outside in the evening on the deck sipping drinks, talking, enjoying the sounds and smells or soaking in the pool. Leo never realized how much he enjoyed doing those things.
His hours were as long as ever, putting in twelve hours a day and more, but no matter when he got home, no matter how tired he was, Nan was home waiting for him, with food if he was hungry, with her love. She was there for him no matter what he needed, whether it was just be held, talk softly about the day or make love forgoing sleep because even more than sleep there were times he just needed to lose himself in her.
His nerves were strung as tight as piano wire and it was taking every ounce of energy he had to not let on that he was worried, no admit it, terrified, about being summoned before the House Reform and Oversight Committee. He didn’t want to expose himself to the world, he hated that people would find out about his relapse. Just that one time, well, he drank a lot, but just one day, he pulled it together but he knew people wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t give him a break, not that we wanted a break. But it was like "I went to rehab, my friends embraced me when I got out. You relapse it's not like that. 'Get away from me.' That's what it's like."
Josh was trying to save him, willing to do anything to keep the truth under wraps, but he would take what came and if he crashed and burned he was damned if he was take anyone with him. Nan knew he was on edge; knew he was worried about something. He didn’t keep anything from her, always told the truth, what was happening, how he felt. But this happened before Nan, seemed like another life almost, and he rationalized he could keep it from her. But she knew something was tearing him up inside. He was having dreams again.
He still saw Stanley Keyworth twice a month and Nan saw her therapist every week. They didn’t see the couple’s therapist anymore, not since the night two months ago when they had both put aside fear and the past and had full blown sex for the first time. The therapist had been surprised that it had happened as soon as it had, but agreed that they had made a breakthrough and would come back in if they felt the need. They hadn’t. Their sex life was amazing and normal and healthy.
But the dreams had started coming back. The stress was responsible. It ate into him, weakening him. Thank god he hadn’t had a flashback; those were hard to cover up. But the dreams… Leo shook his head and tried to concentrate on the file before him but the words were blurry and he couldn’t focus on them. He sat back in his chair and rested his head. ‘Maybe if I just rest my eyes for a minute, just a few minutes.’
The dreams usually started with a smell. Cordite. Jet fuel. Sweat. The acid tang of fear. The hot smell of sweat, fuel, metal in his cockpit. The smells of the jungle; rotten and humid and earthy. Then came the sounds. The whine of jet engines. The sound of bullets pulsing from the six barreled Gatling gun on his plane. Cries of wounded men in the jungle. The soft cries in the night from nightmares. The sound of Vietnamese in the jungle. Then came pain. Fear. Terror. Too few people knew that Leo had been shot down twice. The second one sent him home. The first one fueled his nightmares.
He was hit. His plane was wounded. Instruments were screaming and going dead, he was losing altitude, the cockpit filled with acrid smoke. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. He punched out, into the darkness of night at an altitude of a thousand feet. The force of the ejection punched him out of the cockpit, the air tore at him, his body was pummeled and his breath ripped from his lungs. He felt his upward momentum stop and he began to fall. His chute didn’t deploy. He pulled on the manual rip cord and was jerked back up at the chute grabbed air. Then the checklist. Lift your visor away from your eyes and then pull off your mask. Make sure the seat itself has fallen away from you and that the seat kit, full of survival supplies, is dangling behind you.
Get ready to come crashing down, you have no control this low. All you can do is crash through the trees and hope you don’t break bones when you hit the ground. His chute got snagged high up in a tall conifer. He came to an abrupt stop and bounced back up, crashing through the branches a second time. When he came to rest he was twenty feet off the jungle floor, hanging exposed in the air. He grabbed his knife from the sheath on his calf and cut the lines, falling to the hard jungle floor below.
He pulled at his chute, trying to drag as much of it as he could out of the tree. It was as good as a beacon. He buried what he had managed to bring down and then ran and buried himself in a thick patch of foliage to wait for night. He trembled and barely breathed as he wondered where Boyne and Digger were. He had seen their planes go down. He knew they had to be close by. He pushed himself deeper into the brush and finally succumbed and fell asleep.
Leo came to with a ragged gasping shout, shooting upright in his chair, eyes open, but he was not in his office in the West Wing. He was still in that jungle, curled into a ball in the dirt, kicks and blows raining down on him. Then came the kick that then, rendered him unconscious; he felt it again, saw the rifle butt coming, turned his head and felt the blow to the side of his head. He gasped again, felt the pain again, as he had then. It was as raw and real and consuming as it had been. He staggered to his feet, took a step, then fell, he surrendered to the oblivion re-enacting itself in his mind.
Leo fell to the floor of his office toppling the pile of files on the corner of his desk. His head grazed the desk as he went down, opening up a gash near his temple. Droplets of blood sprayed over the files on the floor. Margaret, in the outer office heard the thud of his body as he hit the floor. She didn’t know at first the noise she heard was his body, but she jumped when she heard it. She went to the door and opened it, stepping into the office.
“LEO? Oh my god. HELP, someone help,” Margaret screamed as she fell to her knees next to Leo on the floor. “Leo?” She pulled his bleeding head into her lap, blood immediately soaking her light blue dress. She pulled her scarf from her throat and held it to his head. She heard pounding feet answering her call for help.
Charlie made it into the room first, being so close by. He skid to his knees on the floor next to Margaret and touched Leo’s face. “Leo. Leo? Wake up, Leo.” Two Secret service agents entered the room next, both calling into their wrist mics as they scanned the room. “Irish is down. Repeat Irish is down. COS office, west wing. Call an ambulance, NOW.”
Jed came barreling into the room through their connecting door and was grabbed by one of the agents and held away from Leo. Jed shoved him to the side, “God damn it let go of me,” he yelled and dropped to the floor next to Charlie. He pressed his hand to Leo’s chest and almost cried in relief to feel his heart beating and his chest contract. “Leo? My god, what happened,” he asked as he looked at Margaret.
“I don’t know,” she cried. “I heard a thump from the office, and when I came in he was on the floor.” More people began to crowd the room as word spread that Leo was down. Josh came flying down the hall, pushing people out of his way, Sam on his heels. More secret service agents were arriving, holding people in the hallway. A large agent caught Josh before he could plow into the room and pushed him up against the wall. The White House on call physician was let into the room with his medical bag.
He knelt beside Leo, ignoring the fact that the President was next to him. “I want him covered now, blankets, we need to keep him warm. He could be in shock.” Margaret grabbed Charlies hand and placed it on the scarf she was holding then stood and went to the closet and pulled out a few blankets and draped them over Leo. “Loosen his tie, unbutton the shirt,” he ordered and the President complied. “Charlie, let me see his head.”
Charlie took the scarf away that he pressed to Leo’s head. Blood welled up and ran down Leo’s head and neck, soaking the collar of his shirt. “Okay, press it tight.” He took out a flashlight and checked Leo’s pupils, left eye, then right. He held his fingers at the pulse in Leo’s neck. Then he opened his shirt more and placed a stethoscope on his chest, listening.
“What’s going on,” Josh called out, pushing against the agent holding him? Toby arrived then and grabbed hold of Josh and turned him around. “JOSH. Stop. Calm down. Let them work.”
Josh slumped against the door and nodded. By now CJ had also arrived in the hall along with Carol, Donna, Ginger and curious bystanders who had been in the west wing when the ruckus started. Agents began clearing the hallway of all non-west wing personnel , opening up a path for Ron Butterfield who came rushing down the hall followed by Lewis and more agents. Agents at the door moved aside so Lewis and Ron could enter the room. Lewis fell to his knees by Leo’s head. He grasped Leo’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “Hang in there, sir,” he whispered.
Ron went over to the President and helped him to his feet. “Sir, they are bringing in a stretcher. Let’s make room.” The President nodded and let Ron move him over by the couch. Margaret went to stand by them. There was a commotion out in the hall as room was made for the EMT’s and the wheeled gurney. The gurney was wheeled to Leo’s side and the two EMT’s, the doctor, Lewis and Charlie lifted Leo’s slight frame onto it.
“His vitals are stable. Pulse elevated. Pupils reactive, but a little dilated. Breathing rapid and shallow. He is still unconscious, deep gash to the left parietal. I have had GW notified that we are on the way, unspecified head trauma.”
The EMT’s replaced Margaret’s scarf with a large gauze pad and covered him with blankets and strapped him to the gurney. In seconds they were whisking the gurney down the hall to the portico and out to the waiting ambulance. A large secret service contingent held back a growing crowd of photographers from the press corps. Once Leo was slid into the back of the ambulance with Lewis and White House doctor, the sirens sounded and it pulled away.
Ron was holding back the President. “Of course you cannot go to the hospital right now, sir. Think…please. Ms. Gray’s detail is retrieving her from State as we speak. I have asked them to connect her with you as soon as she is in a car. Please, sir. Go to your desk.” The President nodded and grasped Ron’s shoulder, then walked with Charlie into the Oval.
“Charlie, can you..”
“Sir, please. I need to…sir, I have blood…” Charlie held out his blood stained hands and shirt cuff. “Sir,” he rushed to the President when he stumbled to the couch and sat down hard. “Oh god,” he breathed as he leaned forward. “Charlie, what the hell happened?”
“He will be okay sir. He will be okay,” Charlie promised.
Josh, Sam, Toby and CJ crowded into the Oval through Leo’s door. They took in the President breathing hard on the couch and Charlie’s worried look. CJ moved over and sat next to him. Josh and Sam moved to the opposite couch and Toby paced. Charlie left the room to clean up.
“I wonder just how much more Leo, and Nan, can take ,” CJ said. “Does she know?”
“Ron said her detail is taking her to GW. They are going to call when they are on route.”
Debbie walked in just then. “Line two, sir. It’s Ms. Gray.”
CJ picked up the receiver and passed it over to the President. “Nan? Whoa…no, he’s is unconscious but breathing, good pulse they said. He fell in his office and knocked himself out on his desk…yes. No. No. Nan, he is going to be okay. OK. Please…yes. OK. Nan…”
He handed the phone back to CJ. She hung up.
“It sounded like they had arrived.” He sat back on the couch and let his head fall back. Everyone sat, each lost in their own thoughts, while Toby paced the room running his hand over his head. Nothing was being done in the west wing right now. The bull pens were quiet. People huddled and whispered. The senior staff waited with the President for word of Leo.
Ron came into the Oval thirty minutes later holding his hand up to his head as he listened to his earpiece. He glanced at everyone in the room and his eyes rested on the President as he gave a nod and then a ten/four to his wrist.
“Sir. Mr. McGarry is awake, but disoriented. He seems to be having an episode, a flashback, that may have been the cause of his fall. They are going to get a MRI of his head and suture the wound. He is stable, in guarded condition, until they have a better idea of what’s going on.”
Everyone in the room let out a collective sigh. Toby stopped pacing and looked up at the ceiling, expelling a breath he did not realize he was holding.
“Sir?” Josh looked expectantly at the President and then Ron. “Go. All of you. This day is a wash. Go see to Leo.” Josh and Sam almost ran from the room and Toby and CJ followed behind. “We will call sir,” CJ said. The President nodded.
The ambulance screamed to a stop at the emergency entrance. The doors flew open as ER personnel rushed up and helped remove the gurney. The wheels popped down with a thunk and they wheeled the gurney through the doors and into the first open trauma suite.
“Head trauma. Fifty-five year old male. Fell and hit an office desk. Left parietal wound with heavy bleeding. Unconscious. Pulse 110, BP 160/90, SPO2 89%. Pupils sluggish and dilated slightly,” the White House doctor chanted off Leo’s vitals as they unstrapped him and moved him to an ER stretcher. Leo was stripped of his clothes; his expensive deep blue Saville Row suit and undershirt cut off his body. He was turned to either side as his body was inspected for additional injury.
“Back, sides, chest, arms clear. We’ve got a cut on his left knee. Not critical.” The ER doc on trauma service was flicking a flashlight back and forth checking Leo’s pupils while a nurse removed the gauze pad on his head. Blood welled up in the wound and oozed onto the white sheet of the cart. “That’s a deep one.” She inspected the wound with gloved hands, running her fingers through Leo’s fine sandy/grey hair. The ER doctor leaned over and inspected the wound. She pulled apart the edges of the gash, blotting with gauze. “No foreign bodies that I can see. Let’s do a lavage and try to see how much damage we have.”
A nurse came over with a basin with a disinfectant solution and a large Toomey syringe. She filled the syringe with solution and depressed the plunger over Leo’s wound, bathing the gash. She refilled it and flushed again with the tip at the edge of the wound. Leo moaned and tried to turn his head. “He’s waking up.” She filled and flushed the syringe again, holding his head still.
Leo came to abruptly, his eyes snapping open, staring wide past the nurse. He sat bolt upright on the stretcher pushing the nurse away. Blood and fluid coursed down from his head, running down his neck and onto his chest. He was screaming, “No. Nooooooo…God, no.”
“Mr. McGarry. STOP, the ER doctor grabbed him and yelled. Lay back.”
He fought, struggling as a large male nurse tried to restrain him along with the doctor. “Get off me…” he yelled, lifting his hips up off of the bed. The doctor grabbed his head and turned Leo’s face. Leo looked at him, but he wasn’t seeing the ER doctor. Leo was still locked in the dream, the full blown flashback that had started in his office. “McGarry, Leo, Captain, United States Air Force…A3 041 247…McGarry, Leo…Cap…Captain…” His head fell back on the bed and he stopped struggling.
“Mr. McGarry…sir. You are at George Washington Hospital in DC. Sir, do you know what year this is…”
“McGarry…19…Cap…is it 1968…it’s 1968…no…Leo…” he muttered softly and closed his eyes. The doctor looked at the other staff around the bed. “Okay, what the hell was that?”
“Doctor,” Lewis spoke from the doorway. “Sir, I am Mr. McGarry’s lead agent. I run his protection detail. Mr. McGarry was a pilot in Vietnam. He was shot down. " Lewis stepped closer to the doctor and lowered his voice. He was shot down. Sir, he was a POW. He has flashbacks, sometimes really bad ones. He has been under an inordinate amount of stress. Is it possible, this has triggered a flashback, and he fell in the office?”
“How involved; how deep do they go?”
“Sir,” Lewis stepped even closer, Mr. McGarry is seeing a someone for PTSD, related to his service and some somewhat recent events.”
“Rosslyn?”
“Yes. It has been a year and a half, but…”
“Yeah. Okay. Do you have the name of his therapist?”
“Dr. Stanley Keyworth. I have his number. I can call him immediately.”
“Okay. Do that. I want him sedated. Light sedation, I don’t want him to freak out again. I want a head MRI stat. After the MRI, suture the wound. A flashback event could really explain the vitals he came in with, but I want him on a cardiac monitor and get an EEG. Run standard bloodwork. Check for drugs, just to make sure.”
“Get off me…” Nan heard Leo yelling as Laura Miles led her into the ER. She ran to the doorway where she could see Cruze and a few agents she didn’t recognize standing guard. Cruze stepped aside and Nan could see Leo on the stretcher fighting with two men, screaming, lifting up off the cart.
“Leo,” she whispered. Nan tried to enter the room, but Miles held her back, Cruze stepped up as Nan sagged back and he took her weight. She turned to him, “Ernesto, he’s having a flashback. They need to…”
“Ms. Gray, Lewis is there. He will let them know.”
“Oh Leo, how long have you been hiding this from me?”
She watched as Leo fell back and the ER staff tended to him. Another IV was started in his other arm; one had been put in in the ambulance. A fresh gauze pad was placed on his head wound and a long strip of gauze wrapped around his head to hold it. Various bags of fluid were hung and she saw a nurse inject something into the IV. Lewis saw Nan as he was on the phone with Stanley and he walked over when he finished the call.
“Ms. Gray. He’s gonna be okay. He was having…”
“I saw, Lewis…uhm, Frank, have you noticed anything?”
“No Ma’am. I haven’t. And I have seen his prior flashbacks a number of times. I have not seen the signs. He is either getting better at hiding them or this truly came out of nowhere. He has been under a lot of stress.”
“I know. These hearings are really bothering him. I just didn’t know how badly. God, Lewis, how did I miss this? How…”
“Ms. Gray…look, Nan…we all missed it. I have been with him for almost three years. I missed it. You didn’t…this is not your fault. Okay. Look, Stanley is on the way.”
“Thank god. When can he get here?”
“He just so happens to be in town this week. He said give him 30 minutes.”
“Okay. Lewis, I feel like I was just in this ER yesterday, not over three months ago. I don’t want to keep doing this.”
“Yes ma’am. They are taking him to get a MRI scan, then they have to suture up his hard head,” he grinned when Nan smiled. Laura, take her for a cup of coffee and then go to the waiting room.”
“Please, can I go to him for a minute?”
“Doctor, this is Mr. McGarry’s partner. Can she see him for a minute?”
“Sure.” He held out his hand to Nan. He’s sedated right now, but lightly. He will probably hear you.”
Nan brushed her hand over his forehead and through his hair. She leaned over and whispered in his ear,” I am hear, honey. Leo, I’m here. I love you.” She kissed his cheek and Leo moaned softly and turned his head. The doctor pulled her away from the stretcher gently. “Let him rest. I will come to the waiting room when we get back the head MRI results. He is going to be okay.”
“Thank you, doctor.” Nan let Laura lead her out of the room.
When Nan and Laura arrived in the ER waiting room, with venti lattes from Starbucks in the hospital cafeteria, the four senior staff were already seated around a table, the same one in fact that they had occupied three months ago.
“Déjà vu,” Josh muttered, then noticed their coffee cups. Where the heck did you get those?”
“Cafeteria,” said agent Miles and everyone laughed when Josh ran out of the room.
“Nan, come sit with me,” CJ held out her arms. She hugged Nan and pulled her chair close so she could keep her arm around her. Nan sipped her latte in silence. After a minute she got up. “I am just going to sit on the couch over there, CJ. Okay?”
“Sure, Nan…”
Nan went over to the couch and curled up, tucking her feet under her, hugging the hot coffee to her chest. She leaned over and breathed in the coffee aroma. Laura left the room and came back with a thick blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Nan pulled it around her body and closed her eyes.
‘God Leo. What happened. What have you been keeping from me. Leo, I love you. You can tell me anything. I don’t care about any of it, the booze, the pills, anything. I just love you. God damn it, Leo.’ Nan reached out and set her coffee on the table and wrapped the blanket around her, covering her face when she started to cry. She couldn’t stop. She had known something wasn’t quite right but she didn’t push. She was afraid to push. She knew from her own problems that pushing didn’t work. You had to want to tell the other person what was bothering you, haunting you, dogging you. She had not told Leo all the dirty, filthy details of her own experience. How could she force him to talk about everything.
But he had told her all the details about being shot down. What she had heard, that didn’t sound like what he had told her. Was there something else. Something he was hiding that came out, couldn’t be managed when other stresses came into play.
‘Leo…’ Nan sobbed softly into the blanket. Laura sat stiffly at her side, unsure what to do. She was Nan’s body agent, she took the bullet, she didn’t hug and console. It was Lewis who came to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. It was Lewis she fell against. It was Lewis who held her until she lifted her head and sighed. “Thanks, Frank, I think I am done now.”
“Anytime ma’am. Cruze just let me know they are back in the ER. They are going to suture up his head and then get him to a room. Dr. Keyworth is also there.”
Across the room, Josh’s head spun around. “Stanley’s here? Why is Stanley here?”
Lewis ignored him and helped Nan to her feet. He opened the door and they left to go see Leo.
“Why do you think Stanley is here,” Josh asked again?
“Do you think they called him in for some reason,” CJ asked?
“I think they will tell us when tell us. Stop speculating. You are all driving me nuts.” Toby dropped into a chair and brooded. CJ glared at him and they all sat quietly with their own thoughts.
When Leo woke the next morning he wondered how many more times he was going to wake up in a hospital wondering what the hell happened. He opened his eyes slowly, not daring to move his head. He had the worst headache he could remember, well, maybe except for that weekend bender…nah, this was worse. He slammed his eyes shut when bright morning sunlight lanced through his head like a sharp blade. He groaned softly and tried opening his eye just a crack.
‘Damn’, his eyes watered as he shut them again. Even the white ceiling hurt his eyes. His head pounded, right behind his eyes, like a bass drum. And the left side of his head felt like it was on fire and someone was repeatedly stabbing him with a sharp something… He moaned again and reached his hand up to his head. He felt a pad, a heavy bandage and winced when he presses. ‘Yeah, don’t do that.’
He could hear voices, footsteps going passed his room, so he guessed the door was open. He didn’t think anyone was here with him. ‘Where is Nan? God, does she know?’ That agitated him, where was she. Was she okay? How did he get hurt? Was she injured also. He sat up in the bed, ignoring the searing pain in his head, and opened his eyes.
“Damn it, god, that hurts,” his eyes watered as he forced them open to look around the room. He saw Cruze step around the doorway and into the room. He stepped in two feet and stopped.
“Mr. McGarry…they said you would probably be waking up soon. Looks like you have a hell of a headache.”
“You have no idea. Where is Nan? What the hell happened?”
“You don’t remember, sir?”
“Not a thing, Ernesto.”
“You fell in your office and whacked your head open on your desk on the way down.”
“What? Really? How the…why was…” his world was suddenly invaded again by the overpowering stench of rot and sweat and the tang of blood in the air. He fell back on the bed gasping and slammed his eyes shut. “Nooooo…” he moaned.
Cruze stepped out of the room and called down the hall, “We need someone in here, NOW.”
Two nurses ran into the room, one going right to Leo’s side and the other to the IV by the bed. She pulled out a syringe and injected something into the tube. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up Mr. McGarry. Figured you were going to have a dilly of a headache.”
Leo didn’t answer. He didn’t hear her. The smells, the stink, had grown overpowering and the sounds… the noise. Where was that coming from? He covered his ears. It didn’t lessen. The noises were inside his head. Bombs exploding, bullets, the clatter of his guns, the scream of his engine. His plane was going down…again…and again…and again. He heard the crack of his chute opening. He felt the jerk of the chute straps on his body, taking his weight, he felt the drop to the ground, he felt the searing disorientation brought on by no food, no water. He felt the rifle butt that knocked him out.
Cruze ran to the bed and tried to hold him down as he began to flail around in the bed, he had to escape, he had to run he had to get out. ‘Oh dear god, please, no, I have to run.’ He tried to crawl off the bed, pulling the IV’s from his arms. His head began to bleed again, the white gauze staining red. ‘No…no…no. Run damn it. You can get away.’ Then he felt the blows rain down on him, over and over.
Leo threw himself against Cruze and knocked him away. Leo fell onto the floor, scrambling to his feet and trying to run. Cruze tackled him and tried to wrap him in a bear hug, hoping he could keep Leo from hurting himself. The entire time he was fighting, Leo was moaning ‘no, no’, over and over, tears streaming down his face, his eyes far off, unfocused. Leo swung his arm around and nailed Cruze in the eye. When Cruze let him go, Leo crawled into the corner of the room and curled into a fetal position, wrapped in on himself. Cruze got to his knees, yelling into his wrist mic. “Contact Dr. Keyworth now. And I want guards up and down the hall. No one gets near this room unless they have a dire need to be here.”
One of the nurses squatted down and tried to get closer to Leo, talking softly, holding out her hand in front of her. When her hand touched his leg he screamed and faced the wall, scratching at it, digging at it, looking for escape, then he buried his face in his arms, whimpering and crying. The sounds he was making made Cruze shiver and want to turn away. He had not heard sounds like that since he was at the embassy bombing in Hezbollah, 1983, as a marine and the cries of the wounded sounded much the same.
“Get out,” Cruze told the nurses. “I’ll stay with him.” Cruze watched Leo curl in on himself, a small pool of blood formed on the floor from the wound in his hand caused from the IV being ripped out. He heard a commotion outside the door and worked his way over to the opening. Lewis was back. “This is Keyworth. Can he go in?”
“How the hell should I know,” Cruze said as he turned to look back at Leo? He had quieted and slumped into a heap on the floor. Stanley pulled on Cruze’ arm. “Go. Get out. Shut the door. Only come in if I yell Lewis name, okay?” They nodded and shut the door.
Stanley slowly sank to the floor and scooted over and stopped ten feet from Leo. He crossed his legs and sat quietly. He just breathed and waited. Slowly all the tension in Leo’s body seemed to melt away. The bleeding from his hand stopped on its own. After almost twenty minutes, Leo’s eyes opened and he sat up, back in the corner, legs bent up with his feet on the floor, arms wrapped tightly about his knees. His gaze was still unfocused and soft but not panicked. Stanley counted the pulses in his neck; down to 90 and getting better. Finally Leo noticed there was someone on the floor with him. His eyes focused and he met Stanley’s gaze. His eyebrows went up.
“Stanley? What the hell are you doing here?”
“What the hell are you doing on the floor here Leo?”
Leo shook his head and around the room, then down at his blood stained hand. “I have no fucking idea, Stanley.”
“Does that worry you, Leo?”
“Fucking scares the shit out of me , Stanley.”
“What’s going on Leo,” he asked softly?
Leo eyes filled with tears. He dragged his arm across his face. “I don’t know.” He let his head thump back against the wall. “I don’t know, Stanley. I’m scared, because I think I am losing control. I am losing myself. I don’t know.”
“Control is important, Leo,” he asked?
“Control is everything, Stanley.”
“And by control you mean, keeping it locked away, suppressed, festering and eating at you until it claws it’s way to the surface and you crack? That kind of control?”
Leo laughed; a bitter, sharp bark. “Control means sucking it up, keeping it where it belongs, getting through the day and praying you get through the nights, building the walls higher and higher, stronger and stronger, cause if the control breaks, if this gets out, if it sees the light of day, you are done. You are weak, you are humiliated, shamed and ruined.”
“Leo, you know it doesn’t work that way. You have seen what Nan has been going through and seen how facing the demons and putting them to rest is the way to heal; to get on with your life. Why is it okay for you to bury your pain, but not her. You need to confront whatever it is, bring into the light of day and then it has no power over you anymore.”
“No can do, Stanley. All I know is I did something horrible…disgusting…and people died. I can remember, Stanley. I can’t…” Leo folded in on himself and sobbed. “All I hear are the cries and the sounds and the smells and death, and sweat and fear…I try to open that door and it slams in my face. I don’t want to know…I don’t, but I have to…have to make amends…I have to pay…I HAVE TO PAY, Stanley. It’s my fault…I was weak…”
Stanley moved over next to Leo and sat, his shoulder just touching his arm. He waited. He didn’t speak. He let the silence grow. Then Leo broke, sobbing, “Help me…help me…” Stanley wrapped an arm around Leo and held him until the sobs quieted. “Okay Leo. I am going to help you, and you are going to help you too.” Leo just nodded his head. He was tired, so tired, so spent, he started to fall over and Stanley caught him.
He called out toward the door. “Lewis?” The door opened before he finished saying Lewis’ name. He stepped into the room and stopped. Stanley motioned him over. “Leo? Lewis is here. He is going to help get you to bed, okay?”
“Hmmm. Okay,” Leo said softly.
Lewis and Stanley lifted Leo by the arms and walked him to the bed. They lifted him up onto it and then swung his legs up. Lewis pulled the bed sheet and blanket up over his chest. Leo pushed his head into the pillow and closed his eyes. Leo’s doctor came into the room and conferred with Stanley.
“He is not dangerous. He is really tired now and I think a drugless sleep would be better than knocking him out. He is no danger from the head wound. Leave it for now. Leave the hand alone. Let him sleep. He needs that more than anything right now.”
“What about restraints? He almost…”
“Absolutely not. Leo is suffering from acute PTSD with hyper-real flashbacks. They are debilitating, intense and consuming. If he were to wake up, disoriented, to find he was ‘tied up’ he would freak out. No, someone has to be here with him. I want a Secret Service agent, just because they are fit and trained to take people down and will be able to restrain him without hurting him, if necessary.”
“Okay. That sounds good. So we will just let him sleep, and then what?”
“Tomorrow I start working with him. Getting to the bottom of this once and for all. This is something that happened to him over thirty years ago and he has to deal with it or it is going to kill him.”
When Nan arrived back at Leo’s room with agent Miles she knew something had happened. On the ride back from the apartment Laura had been nodding and muttering ‘OK, yeah’, into her wrist. She had glanced at Nan once or twice, but didn’t say anything. When they got back to the hospital and gotten off the elevator she saw over a dozen agents lining the halls and directing people away from the corridor. Lewis, Cruze and two other agents along with two nurses and a doctor were gathered outside Leo’s door.
Laura walked Nan over to a chair and sat her down. Nan couldn’t move. She knew it was about Leo, that was his room. The door was closed and Lewis had his ear up against it. He opened the door and walked in followed by Cruze. A few minutes later the doctor walked in and then Nan saw Stanley come out into the hall. He saw her and walked over. He took her arm and steered her down the hall until he saw an empty room. He walked her in and shut the door.
He pulled up two chairs and sat facing her. “Hi Nan. I am sorry, but Leo had another episode.”
“A flashback?”
“Oh yeah. This one was pretty violent.” He sighed. “Nan, we have to get to the bottom of this. Whatever is going on in his psyche has gotten the upper hand. If he doesn’t confront this, now, if we can’t help him find his way out of this, he is going to crack.”
“Crack? How, Stanley? What do you mean?”
“Crack, break down, fall apart, go catatonic, hurt himself either accidentally or…”
“NO…no Stanley. He wouldn’t…not Leo…he cou…”
“Nan, yes. He could. Whatever has him in its grip has been festering and growing for over thirty years. It clawing its way to the surface. He is fighting it, but he is losing now. He is too worn down, too tired, too weak. He has to confront this…”
“But Stanley, things have been so good. He seemed so happy. We have been in a good place, a good normal place. He has been fun, the sex has been…uh, well…, we go for walks and cook…”
“Nan, often that is a coping mechanism. He believes he is happy…”
“What are you saying…”
“I am saying Nan, that he loves you more than life. Never doubt that. He is covering, hiding. These hearing are going to expose something that he is scared of, but there is another terror going on. Something deeper and darker and more sinister. He is terrified that it will get out, that once the first thing gets out, the other will follow. That he won’t be able to stop it. Nan, something happened to him during the time he was captured by the Viet Cong thirty years ago, the first time he was shot down. Something so ugly, so painful, or humiliating, or terrifying that he has repressed it all this time. He has to release it, he has to face it and let it go, or he can’t go on. Not in any normal fashion as the Leo McGarry we all know.
Nan stared at him in horror. “My god, Stanley, WHAT could be so awful that he would die…”
“Die, or collapse or retreat into himself so far…Nan, I don’t know what happened. Not yet. I am going to work with him until I help him find it, face it and put it down. I promise you that. This is going to be hard.”
“How hard? How long? Is this something that can be done while he…”
“I will not release him to go back to work. I am not going to release him to go home. He cannot be left alone…”
“He is not suicidal.”
“He cannot be left alone. Nan, he punched out Cruze. He ripped his IV’s out. He crawled into the corner and tried to claw his way into the wall. He did not know where he was.”
“Okay,” Nan whispered, staring at Stanley, barely believing that this was happening.
“When?”
“We start in the morning. He is in the hospital because of his injury. He is having some black outs. Maybe some bleeding in the head. A reason to keep him here for a week or so. If I can’t get a breakthrough with him in a week, I might never be able to. I will be with him twelve hours a day if I have to.” He took her hand. “You can see him, maybe in the morning. Have breakfast with him. Hold him, but I need to work with him the rest of the day. I need him focused on coming to terms with this, not worrying about you and trying to hide things because he is scared to death if you find out you will leave him.”
“Stanley, thank you, but you…why are you…”
“Nan, I saw Leo care for the people he works with and cares for after Rosslyn, the people he loves, and I never doubted that he loved them. He saw what a lot of people missed and made sure they all got help. Leo needs help. I am going to see he gets it.”
“Thank you, Stanley.”
Leo slept through the night with no problems. Ron and Lewis set up a rotating shift of agents who sat with Leo through the nights. They watched him in four hour shifts, never leaving him alone. Agents in the halls and outside the room protected his anonymity. Around nine in the morning, Leo woke and yawned. He had no headache this time and his vision was clear. His body ached and his hand hurt, but he felt better. He nodded at the agent sitting next to his bed and wondered why the hell he had a body guard.
The agent spoke into his mic and a moment later a nurse came in. “How do you feel this morning, Mr. McGarry,” she asked as she took his blood pressure and temperature under the watchful eye of the agent?
“Better, I guess.”
“Good. Okay, I want to clean up and bandage that hand for you and I have a breakfast tray coming. Your wife is outside…”
“My wi…oh, Nan. Uh, she is my girlfriend, my partner, but not wife…yet…”
“Oh, sorry. Well, she is a lovely lady and she has been waiting outside with Dr. Keyworth.” She busied herself washing up his hand and applied a dressing. She brought a basin with warm water and a washrag and sponged his face and neck and arms and chest and put him in new gown. “Okay. Can I ask them in now?”
Leo just nodded. His heart was racing. He was nervous. He was scared. Something bad had happened and he was afraid Nan would be…he wasn’t sure what she would be, but he was afraid. He shouldn’t have been, he realized. When she walked in the room and saw him, the look on her face, the smile, the look of pure love and joy hit him like a thunderbolt. He looked at her with his mouth hanging open, knew it, and could do nothing about it.
She walked to the bed, hitched her hip up on it, touched his face and kissed him so gently, so completely, so powerfully that his heart almost stopped beating. She looked into his eyes and smiled and he knew she loved him without reservation. He brought his arms up and slid them around her waist and drew her into him. He could breathe again and his heart could start beating.
She drew back gently and kissed him again. She leaned her forehead onto his and sighed. “I love you, Leo McGarry and nothing is ever going to change that,” she whispered in his ear.
“I love you, Nan. Dear god, I love you.”
“Leo,” Stanley said moving up beside Nan. “Nan will be here long enough to have breakfast with you. They are bringing something in. After that, she has to go. You and I are going to have the use of an office and we are going to talk.”
Leo looked down at his hands, then up at Nan. “Okay.”
“Good. I will be back. Nan…”
The nurse came in with a heavy tray and placed it on the tray table next to Leo’s bed. Nan stood to make room as she slid the tray over the bed and Leo’s lap. She took the covers off of two plates. There was a pile of toast, a full plate of cut up fruit, two bowls of oatmeal and tomato juice. Leo’s stomach growled. “I guess I am hungry.”
“Ma’am, “the nurse turned to Nan.
“Oh, please call me Nan.”
“You can either slide in next to him, or climb up on the bed and sit opposite him, with the tray between you. Whatever works, “she smiled.
“Thank you.” Nan climbed up on the bed and sat facing Leo with the tray between them. She sat between his outstretched legs and rubbed his thigh. She grabbed a spoon and scooped up some oatmeal and held it out. “Wall paper paste, Leo?”
He laughed for the first time in weeks. “No, I think I will pass.”
“Good. More for me,” she said and popped the spoon in her mouth. Leo grabbed a piece of wheat toast and took a huge bite. Then he picked up a fork and speared a strawberry and chuck of pineapple.
Lewis came into the room and smiled when he saw Nan up on the bed with Leo. He carried two venti Starbucks cups. “Good morning. My contribution to breakfast,” he put the two coffees on the tray table. Leo dropped his fork and grabbed the cup closest to him and took a huge gulp. “Oh god, dark roast. Bless you Lewis.”
“Thank you, Lewis,” Nan said also taking a large drink of coffee.
“You are welcome. I’ll be in the hall if you need anything,” he said as he left them alone.
Nan put her cup down, grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite, chewing slowly as she rubbed Leo’s leg and gazed at him. He stared at his hands, cupped around the warm coffee.
“Nan…I…”
“Leo, stop. Don’t say anything that you think you have to say. Just say what you feel. I am not mad, I am not disappointed, I am not annoyed with you. I am afraid, I am worried. I am not angry at you for having this problem, but angry at myself for missing it. No, wait…god, Leo, I love you so much. I wanted to be happy so much that I didn’t see you were struggling. I am so sorry. I feel I have let you down. So many people have let you down Leo. I didn’t want to be one of them.”
Leo pushed the tray table away from the bed. He took her coffee away from her and put it on the table then reached out and pulled her into his arms. Nan curled into him, wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. They held each other as tightly as they could, Leo drawing strength from her and Nan giving it. She would give anything for Leo, to Leo and he for her. “Oh, Nan. I love you so much, I don’t deserve you…”
Nan pulled away from Leo sharply. “Don’t say that Leo. Damn it, don’t. You deserve me, you deserve to be happy. You deserve to have a good life. It’s okay Leo. It’s okay to be happy, joyful, to have love, to have a life you cherish with people you cherish and love. Stop beating yourself, stop whipping yourself for the past, for things that happened that were out of your control. Stop feeling guilty that you are alive, that you lived when others died. Look at the things you have control over that have made you the man I love. The man people will walk through fire for, do anything for. You conquered your addictions, you have met the challenges, you got the leader of the free world elected and he needs you, looks to you. You deserve me Leo, and don’t you ever forget it.”
He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. Breakfast was forgotten as they lost themselves in each other. When Stanley walked in twenty minutes later Leo was ready. He was ready to confront his demons. He had Nan to hold him and help him through, he was ready to let go of the past.
Nan left with Miles to go back to her house. She had not been home in a while and she would busy herself with housework. Stanley told her no uncertain terms; she could not be with him for this. When he was ready to talk, he would tell her. Until then she had to give him the space he needed.
Stanley walked Leo down the hall to an office they had been given the use of. Two comfortable padded chairs sat before a desk. There was a couch along one wall. “Do you want to sit or do you want to lay on the couch.”
“I think I would prefer to sit.”
Stanley moved the two chairs so they faced each other. He turned out the lights so the only light came from outside through the closed blinds. He sat facing Leo. Leo stared past his shoulder. The new dressing on his head was stark white blending in with his ashen pallor. His hands trembled, occasionally jerking, his fingers clenching. His breathing had gone shallow and rapid. Stanley noted all of this and spoke in a low even tone.
“Just talk to me about how you have been feeling Leo. We are just going to talk.”
“I don’t know where to start or what to talk about.” Leo looked down at the floor. He really didn’t know. He couldn’t break through the wall of the past. He couldn’t see beyond that wall, where something had happened; he knew he was blocking it, hiding from it, running from it. It chased him in his dreams, pursued him yet remained just beyond recognition. If he could just face it, grab onto it and wrestle it into submission, maybe he could sleep, maybe he could just finally get on with his life.
“Tell me about Vietnam. Just start talking. What were your first impressions?”
Leo took a deep shuddering breath. “It smelled.”
Stanley sat back in his chair and let Leo ramble. Leo talked for a while, then he would pause staring into the corner of the room, memories swamping him, things he had not talked about in ages, had not remembered in ages. Then he would start talking again, his words tacking 180 degrees in the opposite direction from the previous hour’s words. Then he would stop, again, staring with vacant eyes into the air.
The third time he stopped his breathing started to speed up. He had been talking about a mission they were getting ready for. He mentioned names he had not mentioned before. Then six planes, Thai Nguyen, a railroad yard. Stanley saw Leo’s hands tighten on the arms of the chair. Just a little, but enough. His breathing became more ragged, more uneven. Leo’s eyes lost focus. He stared at Stanley but didn’t see him; he looked right through him. Leo shifted in the chair, shifted again, stretched out his legs then drew them back suddenly.
Stanley shifted his eyes to see the clock on the wall. They had been here for four hours without a break. No water, no food, no bathroom break. He watched Leo try to swallow, his throat working but his mouth was dry. He licked his lips and then suddenly looked at Stanley, seeing him. He looked around the room startled, taking a moment to realize, remember where he was. He laughed nervously and ducked his head.
“Let’s take a break Leo. We’ve been at this for four hours.”
Leo jerked his head back up at Stanley. “Really, I thought we had just started.”
“No, you’ve been talking for a while. Time for a break. I’ll walk you back to your room and have the nurse order some lunch. C’mon.”
Leo stood up and swayed a little. Stanley grabbed his elbow and steadied him and walked Leo back down the hall. Lewis was waiting by his door. “Sir.”
“Lewis.”
“Taking a break sir?”
Leo nodded and Stanley said, “Lunchtime. Lewis, can someone get Leo some food? I am going to hit the cafeteria and make some phone calls.”
“Yes sir. Consider it done.” He turned to Leo. “Mr. McGarry, I sent Cruze out and got you lunch. It’s in the room,” he said as he opened the door and led Leo into the bright room. Leo looked at the food Lewis was setting out on the tray. His stomach grumbled loudly and Lewis laughed. “I guess I got it right.”
“Indeed you did Lewis. Krupin’s right? Hot pastrami and a pile of fries?”
“Yes sir. Slaw and muenster on the sandwich, extra slaw, a couple of pickles and ketchup for the fries.”
“God bless you Lewis,” Leo muttered as he sat in the recliner by the window and Lewis slid the tray table in front of him. Cruze came into the room holding a venti Starbucks cup from the cafeteria. “Dark roast, black,” he put it on Leo’s tray.
Leo took a huge bite of the sandwich and groaned, chewing slowly with his eyes closed. “Lewis, I am putting you to in for a bonus. God, this is just what I needed.”
“Well, you didn’t really eat breakfast, so I figured you were gonna be good and hungry. And GW may be an amazing hospital, but hospital food is not. Enjoy, sir.”
Leo shoved a pile of ketchup coated fries in his mouth and groaned again. Fifteen minutes later the food was gone, all of it, including the three huge dill pickle spears. Leo sat back in the chair sipping the coffee. Lewis brought him the Washington Post and cleared the tray table. Lewis and the detail were taking over, doing anything they didn’t need a nurse for. The fewer people who were around, the easier it was to keep thing low key and under the radar. He sent in an agent who sat inside the door in a hard backed chair, sitting almost at attention. Leo ignored him, trying to read the paper, but not succeeding as his attention wandered. Soon, his head fell forward, then to the side and he was snoring softly, sound asleep.
By the time Stanley got back to the room, it was after 4:00 pm and Lewis had moved Leo to the bed. Stanley decided to let Leo sleep and start again in the morning. He spoke to Lewis who had a car take him to Nan’s house. He wanted to talk to her and make sure she was doing okay. Nan was not without her own issues and he didn’t want her well being ignored over Leo’s.
Nan let him into her home. Stanley followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen. She had been making a salad for her late dinner and offered Stanley a seat at the counter and a cup of coffee. “Cream and no sugar. Thanks.”
Stanley settled onto the high-backed stool across the counter from Nan. She slid a cup of coffee to him and placed a small cream pitcher within reach. He poured some in the cup, stirred and took a sip. “Wow, good coffee.” He set the cup down. “How are you doing, Nan? And I mean how are you doing, aside from Leo’s problems, how are you coping?”
Nan came around the counter and sat next to Stanley with her own cup of coffee. She took a sip and turned to face him. “I think I am doing good. Aside from everything with Leo, I have not had any flashbacks in months and my dreams are normal everyday dreams. We, I, seem to be having a pretty normal sex life. Physically and emotionally, mentally, I feel good. I am distressed, Stanley, that I didn’t see that Leo was in trouble…”
“Nan, he has gotten pretty good at hiding his feelings over the years. He probably has not been sleeping at all, but sneaking out of bed and coming back to bed when he thinks you will be waking up. Has he been eating at home?”
“Yes, but his appetite has been less, and he said he was just preoccupied with the hearings and that he was eating at work. I know now that he was saying the same thing to Margaret,”
“This is what Leo does, has done, for a long time. He deflects, hides, misdirects. He cannot do it anymore. Whatever is gnawing at his psyche has gotten the upper hand. He can’t fight it anymore. He can’t push it back down. He has to face this, Nan. He has to remember; he has to let it into the light of day.”
Nan sat and sipped her coffee. She knew what Stanley was saying was true. She didn’t make her breakthrough until she stared the terror in the face and dared it to keep making her life a living hell. Now it was Leo’s turn. His demons were older, stronger, deeper. “Stanley, is there nothing I can do?”
“He has to do this, Nan. He has to want to, he has to do it. You can’t make him want it or do it. All you can do is love him and let him know you will be there for him no matter what happens. He has to know you don’t judge, you don’t presume, you just love him.”
“I do. I told him that. I don’t blame him, for anything…”
“Nan, whatever is eating at him could be pretty bad. He thinks it is so bad that everyone will walk away from him. You have to be prepared. You have to accept that Leo may have done something that is against all your own morals or truths or beliefs.”
“Do you honestly think Leo could have done something so awful and despicable that people would hate him, that those who love him, couldn’t forgive him.”
“You have to be ready to accept that Nan. I don’t think Leo could have done something horrible and evil, but the war, the circumstances. You have to be prepared that is possible. And you have to be prepared to accept it and tell Leo that you forgive him.”
“Stanley, I love him with all my heart, with my life, with…I will forgive him because I know he is a good man, an honest man. If something happened like you are suggesting, it was not something he could stop, or help, or avoid.”
“Good,” Stanley said as he stood up. Nan walked him to the door. “I will be starting with him early tomorrow. I will call you. Let me know where you will be.”
“Thank you, Stanley,” Nan said as she closed the door and wandered back into the kitchen and her forgotten dinner.
CHAPTER IX
“We were going to hit a railroad yard again. We had hit it several times before, but they always rebuilt it, almost as fast as we could take it out. Thai Nguyen, thirty-six-miles north of Hanoi. Six of us in F105 Thunderchiefs carrying six 750-pound bombs, two inboard 650-gallon fuel tanks, Sidewinder missiles and jamming pods.
I was combat flight leader. We overshot, I overshot, our refueling run, we had to make up time…we came in late, trailing behind Dakota flight. I was looking for our target, the maps and recon photos never look quite like the real thing. We were the last flight in and even though flak suppression probably worked better for the first flight runs, but by the time we got in they were firing at us like crazy. I acquired target and adjusted my dive angle then dropped my bombs and pulled up hard and right, followed by Boyne, Colt and Digger. As I pulled up the fuckers tracked me and I was hit. I looked up and could see that Boyne and Digger were hit. “Colt, get outta here. Radio in, I am going down.”
Leo was tense, his hands gripped the chair arms, he was sweating. Stanley didn’t speak, just let Leo keep talking. Leo’s eyes were squeezed shut and his left knee started bouncing up and down. “I have to eject. My plane is mortally wounded. I can barely hold the trim. Where the hell am I…wait…there. I know that loop of river…that’s the Red where it splits and the Da River heads south and the Red continues west. I am gonna go down west of the Red, in the foothills.
“I kept that plane in the air until I knew I had to get the hell out. I punched at 1000 feet. I came down fast and hard and hit the ground rolling. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. I had to release my chute and get under cover, but I was stunned. The pain in my back was like white hot fire. The ringing in my ears…after what seemed like forever, I was able to release my chute and crawl into some brush. I pulled the chute in under the brush. I was separated from my seat, from my survival pouch. I had nothing but the gun on my hip, a pack of cigarettes in my chest pocket, a lighter and the maps in my thigh pocket.
“I dug in the dirt with my hands and buried my chute. I lay in the brush, waiting for dark, wondering where, how, Boyne and Digger were. I must have passed out, because when I came to it was dusk.” Leo stopped talking. His breathing was shallow and rapid and his knuckles were white, his hands gripping the chair arms. He looked up at Stanley and then dropped his head back down. “I remember walking, stumbling, in the dark. I don’t even know where I was headed. I must have been confused, hit my head. I remember at one point falling and rolling down a hill to the bottom of a gulley or something. I must have passed out again and when I woke up Digger was with me. He had been trying to wake me for a while. He had seen Boyne eject and his chute deployed, but he hadn’t found him yet. Digger had a broken wrist, but he said he was okay. He moved over to the bottom of the gully where a small stream flowed and then disappeared under a rock. At least we had some water.”
“I think I passed out again and when I came to the sky was getting lighter. I knew we had to get under cover. We couldn’t walk in the daylight.”
“We climbed up out of the gully and I could see the eastern sky getting lighter. I knew that the mountains to the west, past the foothills, would offer us more cover than going east. We were west of Hanoi so east was out. If we went north, we would run into the Red river and there were too many people living along the river. South and we run into the Da river. I thought we should go west into the deeper foothills into then into the woods.
“Digger wanted to head south because we had a better chance of getting into Laos, even having to deal with the river. I was flight leader, so technically in charge, even on the ground. So I told him we were heading west. Laos was west too, a lot further, but I desperately wanted to avoid Hanoi and the population around it.
“We found Boyne just before sunup. He was hurt. As his plane was falling apart he ejected but a chunk of cockpit housing broke off at the force of ejection and buried itself in his side. He had broken ribs that must have punctured lung. We found him lying out in the open so we just grabbed him by the arms and dragged him into the heavy brush we had been headed for and we settled in to wait out the day. What little water we had managed to collect into Diggers canteen we gave to Boyne. The canteen had a hole in it and we could only fill it halfway. We needed water and food and god, we…we needed… help.”
Leo’s voice slowed and stopped. His head hung down, his chin almost on his chest. He was pale and still having trouble breathing. His hands trembled. He started to cry; at first just silent tears that coursed down his face but it soon became sobs that racked his body. His shoulders heaved and he drew in ragged gulping breaths.
“Leo. What’s happening, Leo? Why are you crying,” Stanley asked quietly? He didn’t want to break the mood, he needed Leo to still be in this place, remembering.
Leo lifted his head to look at Stanley and stared at him, as if surprised to see him there. “What?”
“Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know…why…where is…” Leo broke down again and sobbed into his hands, his body bowed over his legs, pulling into himself. Stanley stood and walked over to the desk and picked up the phone. He spoke for a moment and sat back across from Leo again. A minute later the door to the office opened and Lewis walked in with one of the other agents. Lewis went to Leo’s side and bent over.
“Sir, come on. Let’s go back to your room. Get some rest and something to eat.” Leo just nodded and let himself be led by the two agents back to the room. They helped him into bed where he curled into a fetal position and pulled the sheets and blankets over his head. Lewis went to the door where Stanley waited.
“Let him sleep for a while. He is drained. Keep an agent in the room, Lewis. I am unsure of his state of mind right now.” Lewis nodded and the other agent pulled a chair to the foot of Leo’s bed and sat with him. Lewis pulled the blinds in the room and left.
The smells started again. This time all he smelled was rot. The overpowering stench of putrid rot. It filled his nostrils, made him want to gag. His stomach clenched and he felt the acrid sting of hot bile searing his throat. The smell got stronger and stronger. He struggled against the weight. He carried it, dragged it, fought with it. He couldn’t escape the weight; he couldn’t escape without the weight. He bowed under the weight and the stench. He was tired, exhausted. He was beyond tired. Putting one step in front of the other was so phenomenally, excruciatingly difficult he was sure that each step was his last.
He dragged the weight through the nights and hid with it during the days, the omniscient weight always there. The stench always there. Leo couldn’t get away from either. He couldn’t identify it…in his dreams, in his nightmares…the weight…the stench. What was it…why did he have to carry it, why did it linger in his nostrils, why did the weight drag at him and suffocate him…
In the bed in the hospital room, Leo moaned. Deep and low in his chest, he moaned and asked, “Why?” His body stiffened and he flung out his legs. He flailed his arms in the bed, tangling them in the sheets. He kicked the sheets off of his legs, whipping his head back and forth. “No…why,” he groaned.
The stench; “Oh God, where is it coming from…why won’t it go away. Heavy…just let go of it…let go…you need to let go…”
“NO,” Leo was shouting now. “Don’t let go…noooooooooo, oh god…oh god…oh god,” he was screaming now, his body writhing on the bed. “Oh dear god, please…I can’t let go…I can’t…”
The secret service agent was yelling into his wrist mic. Lewis burst into the room, going to the other side of the bed, helping to hold Leo on the bed. His body was thrashing so violently Lewis was laying on top of him on the bed. Three more agents came flying into the room, followed by Stanley. Leo was screaming, “No, god, no…I can’t do it…anymore. Digger…”
A nurse came into the room with a syringe. Stanley took from her and went over to the bedside. Leo had pulled out his IV’s yesterday and they had not been replaced. He needed to get him sedated now. “Lewis, you,” he pointed to another agent, I need an arm stabilized. Now, just hold it down.” Stanley moved close to Leo and pressed down on his elbow, then took the syringe and angled it in, probing in and out until he got a flash of blood, then he depressed the plunger. He helped hold Leo down as the sedative began to take effect and Leo thrashed less and less, his breathing slowed, his head fell to the side and his body slowly went slack.
Stanley, Lewis and the three agents waited, breathing hard, afraid to let go until they were sure Leo was not going to start fighting again. Finally, they let go, watching him carefully, backing away from the bed.
Lewis turned to Stanley. “What the Hell was that?”
Stanley just stood and watched Leo, the last two days of conversations running through his head. They were getting close. This was almost a psychotic break. Leo was on the verge of either remembering or breaking. Stanley honestly didn’t know which at this point.
Charlie opened the door for Stanley and led him into the Oval office. The President was seated behind his desk. He motioned for Stanley to come and take a seat in the chair to his right.
“Stanley. Have a seat.”
“Mr. President, how are you? Sleeping okay?”
President Bartlet nodded. “Yeah, I am. You are not here to ask how I am doing. Is this about Leo?”
“Yes sir. I need to ask you a few questions about things you probably will not want to tell me, and under any other circumstances, I would not have to ask. But I need to get some history from you.”
“Okaaay. How is Leo doing?”
“Sir, I just came from the hospital. I had to heavily sedate him. He had an intense, violent dream. I will not call it a flashback because he was not even conscious at the time. It was damn near a psychotic break. Sir, did Leo ever mention to you the first time he was shot down, in Vietnam?”
“First? What do you mean? He was only shot down once. He got sent home after that.”
“No…sir. Leo was shot down once before. He was not only shot down, he was captured, escaped and spent days, they don’t know how many, in the jungle until he was found.”
“No. That is wrong. He was only…” Bartlet stopped talking as Stanley looked him in the eye and shook his head.
“No Mr. President. Twice. The first, I take it he never mentioned or ever talked about?”
“No. I can’t believe it. Why would Leo not tell me that he was shot down before?”
“Do you think he ever told his wife or daughter? If he never told any of you, I can assume he never told anyone else. It is in his military record. His files from that event are closed. I could have them opened but it might take a while…or a Presidential order.”
“Files?”
“Yes. Leo was hospitalized for a brief time after his rescue. There was a battery of psychological testing done. Those records have been sealed. He was released to go back to active flight status, but I can’t get those files. I don’t know if we have the time to wait for them.”
“What do you think is in them?”
“Nothing, anything, everything. Answers.” Stanley looked the President in the eye. “Sir, I don’t think we have the time, but if you can get his file released and opened it might help. I have to get him to remember, to open up, to confront this thing, this demon that is tearing him apart, and damn soon. His dreams, flashbacks, are getting more violent and closer together.”
“Okay. I will talk to the Joint chiefs and see if they can help. Stanley, how bad is this, is Leo?”
“As bad as it could possibly be. Sir, something happened to Leo, during that time. When he was being held, in the jungle, something that was so horrible that he cannot deal with the reality of it. It is clawing its way to the surface. It wants to come out. Leo cannot fight this. He has to face it and let it go.”
President Bartlet slumped in his chair. ‘My god, Leo. Why did you keep this from me? Why didn’t you ever tell me? “I’ll see what I can do. Please keep me in the loop.”
Stanley nodded and left the room. He was on his way back to the hospital, but he had one more stop. One more person to talk to.
“Ms. Hooper? I am…”
“I know who you are Dr. Keyworth. How is Leo?”
“He is having…a rough time. Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.” Margaret sat up even straighter in her chair and focused on Stanley.
He smiled and wondered about the strange relationship between Leo and this quirky woman who had stood by his side for so long. “You have been with Leo for a long time. You have been with him through his alcoholism and addiction to Valium. Have you ever heard him mention, or has he mentioned to you, anything about his service in Vietnam, specifically, when he was shot down?”
Margaret stared over Stanley’s shoulder for a long minute. “No. He has never discussed his wartime service with me.”
“Okay, I thought, maybe, he might have…”
“I have been with him when he has had flashbacks and nightmares.”
“Okaaay. And what do you remember him saying or any information you can give me.”
“The flashbacks were really bad when he was drinking heavily. Most of the time his words were incoherent. I remember a few names though. A Kenny, who I know was Leo’s friend, they worked together in the private sector.”
Stanley waited. “The other name was Boyne…yes, like Hoynes...but Boyne, without the s.”
“And what did he say when he mentioned that name…”
“I don’t remember the details specifically. Usually it was incoherent mumbling. I just remember once hearing the name.”
Stanley sighed. That wasn’t much help, but at least he knew that Leo was having the flashbacks about Boyne as much as nine years ago, and probably had been having them since Vietnam.
“Thank you, Ms. Hooper.” He shook her hand and left her staring after him as he walked down the hall.
Stanley went straight back to GW to check in with Lewis and the doctor in charge. He entered the room and was surprised to find four agents there. Lewis, standing at the head of the bed on Leo’s right, to agents at the foot of the bed and another just inside the door.
Lewis walked over to Stanley. “He has been quiet. No movement or words since you sedated him.”
“Thanks. I can see that Leo is being well looked after.”
“He won’t hurt himself on my watch sir. Ever.” Lewis turned to look at Leo and Stanley was surprised to see pain in Lewis eyes. He cared for Leo. That much was evident.
“Okay. I need to know immediately when he wakes up or if he begins to have another episode. I will be in the office, making notes. I need to make some phone calls.”
“Yes sir. ASAP.”
Stanley went into the office he and Leo had been using and sat behind the desk. He pulled a legal pad from his briefcase on the floor and sat for an hour making notes of conversations he had, what Leo had said to him, his observations about Leo. He also made note of a few people he wanted to confer with. Three phone calls and three hours later, there was a knock at the door. It was Lewis. “He is stirring sir. Not much, but thought I would let you know.”
“I am coming. Be right there.” Lewis left and a few minutes later Stanley followed.
Leo was gently moaning, turning his head side to side. Stanley walked to the bed and laid a hand on Leo’s shoulder. Leo moaned and turned his head to the that side. He didn’t open his eyes. “Leo? Can you hear me?”
Leo moaned gently. He nodded his head almost imperceptibly. “Open your eyes Leo. Look at me.”
Leo turned his head side to side again. “Open your eyes, Leo. Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Leo said in raspy whisper.
“Open your eyes. Now.”
“I can’t. I can’t see.”
“Open your eyes, Leo.”
“I…I am trying. I can’t.”
“Okay, Leo. Just rest. We will try again later. Go to sleep.”
Leo stilled and his breathing slowed.
Stanley sat in the recliner in the corner and looked over his notes he had carried with him. What could he do to break through this wall that Leo was trapped behind. He had carried this secret, this horror, this shame, whatever it was, for over thirty years and never told a soul. It had to be something so awful to Leo, that he never mentioned it. Thirty years of silence, of suppression. Thirty years of hiding behind a wall he had built inside to protect himself, or the world, or his loved ones. That was as it usually happened. There was guilt, there was fear, there was shame, there was something so horrific that he could never speak of it.
Leo McGarry was a good man. A proud man. Even through his addictions, he never hurt anyone intentionally. He was honest, worked hard. Loved his family and his friends. He was a gentle man deep inside, a man of honor. Whatever had happened tore at his soul and his psyche. To Leo, it was so awful that he had to bury it, hide it away and never, ever mention it.
Stanley walked into the hall and got out his cell phone. He dialed and waited for the call to connect.
“Nan, it’s Stanley.”
“Is he okay,” she asked without a hello.
“He…had another…episode.”
“Episode? What? How bad, Stanley?”
“Pretty bad. I have him sedated right now. Not heavily sedated, but enough to keep him calm. He had a severe event…I won’t even call it a nightmare or a flashback. I believe he is fully reliving the events. I think he does not even know where he is right now, what year it is. I think he is back in that jungle, reliving every minute.”
“My god, Stanley. How long can this keep going? How can he hold up under this kind of assault?”
“Nan, I don’t know. I am in new, deep waters here. I have made some phone calls and I have a guy I know with more experience in this kind of thing coming out. He should be getting into Dulles early evening.”
“Will you let me see him?”
“Nan. No. I am sorry, but he probably will not know you are here and if he did, it could be emotionally devastating for him. And for you. I will call you later.”
“Okay, Stanley. Thank you.”
Nan put down the phone and walked back into her kitchen where she had been making a cup of tea. She started to cry and slid down the front of the refrigerator until she was on the floor, curled around her heart, praying for Leo and blaming herself for not seeing his pain.
Leo opened his eyes and slammed them shut when the sunlight coming through the blinds lanced through his head. “Oh, god, that hurt.”
Stanley had been in the chair in the corner since 7:00 am waiting for him to wake up.
“Got a headache Leo?”
Leo turned away from the window and opened his right eye a slit and stared up at Stanley. “What the fuck did you whack me with, Stanley. Jeez, I feel like ten miles of bad road.”
“Well, good morning, Leo. Again, headache?”
“Yeah. A real humdinger Stanley.” Leo shifted in the bed and sat up a little straighter. He moaned and grabbed his head. “Wow. Did I hit it again?”
“No. Leo, you had another episode. This one was pretty bad. Almost as bad as the last one. Do you remember anything.”
“NO.”
“Leo?”
“Sorry, Stanley. No, I don’t think I do at this point. Have not tried to remember though either. What happened?”
“We were in the office. You were talking, you started to cry and I decided we needed a break. We came back to the room and you went to the bed. Fell asleep. You woke up screaming a short while later.”
“I don’t remember.”
“What about the smell, Leo?”
Leo’s breathing immediately began to increase, shallow but rapid breaths. “What…smell?”
“You mentioned a stench, a smell, and a weight. It was heavy, you couldn’t put it down…”
Leo was breathing hard now and his eyes began to dart around the room. He couldn’t look at Stanley. In his mind, so deep, he couldn’t really rationalize, he was afraid, ashamed. He couldn’t let Stanley know, he couldn’t let Stanley feel his shame.
“Leo. It’s okay. Nothing you say can make me respect you any less. There is nothing so awful you cannot…”
“STOP,” he yelled. “Stop it Stanley. Leave me alone. There is NOTHING, god damnit. Please, just let me be. I can’t…I can’t…
From out of nowhere, from out of the past, the stench assaulted him again. It was so powerful, so putrefying that he gagged. He hunched over and vomited into the bed. Stanley grabbed a towel from the bedside table and held it under Leo’s mouth. Leo struggled to get away, Lewis holding him and another agent laying across his legs.
“NO…Jesus…god the…please. It’s Boyne…I can’t carry…too heavy. Please…I …”
Stanley pushed Leo back onto the bed as he hit the bed alarm. The doctor and nurse came running into the room. “Do you want restraints,” the nurse asked?
“No. Another 10 milligrams. Do you have it?”
The nurse handed him another syringe and he let go of Leo’s shoulders. He poked for a vein again and then injected the sedation. “When he calms down, I want another IV in him. Put it in his hand and tape it down good.” He stayed by Leo’s side until he quieted down and then nodded at Lewis and tilted his head toward the door.
Out in the hall, Stanley took Lewis aside. “Lewis, I don’t know how long this is going to go on. I do not know what is happening or how long this is going to take. I think we need to confer with Ron Butterfield and the director. I think we may need to consider transferring Leo to another facility.”
“A mental facility, sir? That would be bad, sir.”
“It may be the best thing for Leo McGarry. Not necessarily for the White House Chief of Staff, but it may be what Leo needs. At least let’s set up a meeting and talk about it.”
“Yes sir,” he said and then talked into his wrist mic. He held his hand to his earpiece. “Agent Butterfield is on his way here. Fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Let’s use the office. No one else.”
Josh walked into Toby’s office and fell onto the couch. He rubbed his eyes and blew out a breath. “Toby? Why are they keeping us in the dark, huh? What the hell is going on with Leo? I am getting really worried.”
“Yeah.”
“Just yeah?”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Well thanks for making me feel better Toby. Really, thanks a bunch.”
“Josh, I know no more than you do. This is the third time in the last hour you have been in here. Just shut up, already.”
“Fine,” Josh said and got up and walked over to CJ’s office. She saw him coming and held up her hand. “No. Not now Josh. Go away.”
He stopped in his tracks and turned around and walked back to his office and slammed the door. He dropped in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. This was killing him. Not knowing what was happening, worrying about Leo. This was bizarre and scary. Nothing like this had ever happened to anyone he knew before. He couldn’t believe Leo was cracking up, falling apart. If Leo couldn’t bear up to the strain, how could anyone? How could he?
“So you think we might have to admit Leo into a psychiatric facility,” Ron asked incredulously? “Are you seriously considering this?”
“Agent Butterfield. Leo is balancing on the head of a pin right now. He is in a state of extreme hypervigilance, he is experiencing flashbacks, back to back to back. He is reliving events from thirty years ago. He is experiencing psychotic episodes that are so extreme, I am not sure we can break its hold on him. I don’t…”
“You don’t know if you can fix him, heal him cure him, whatever. You are going to give up and throw him into a padded cell and let this thing eat him alive?”
“Sit down, Ron. No, I did not say that. But how much longer can you guarantee that you keep this a secret. We are in a public hospital. There are three shifts of personnel here and anyone of them could walk out the door and sell the story of the year. Can you tell me that we can proceed here with this and not risk exposure?”
Ron sat back down in the chair by the desk. His shoulders slumped. He was worried as hell about Leo, but even more so for the President. He was taking this situation hard and was chomping at the bit to get here and see Leo.
“I am more worried about how we get him out of here, into an ambulance, to a facility and into it without giving it all away. Can you guarantee to me that this place is totally secure Stanley?”
“Anywhere is a risk, Ron. What is happening with Leo is beyond the capabilities of this hospital. I need him somewhere with trained personnel, access to what I need, and the expertise that may save Leo. I am good, but I need help, Ron.”
“Fine. Okay. Let me talk to the director. Give me the name of the facility you want to use. I have to brief the President. Give me two hours.”
“Thank you, Ron.”
“It is not a shameful thing to go where you can get the best treatment, Ron. If it happens to be a mental facility, so what? The stigma attached to a mental ward, or hospital, is what keeps a lot of people from getting the treatment they need.”
“Yeah. I know. But will Leo see it that way?”
“He has too. He will just have too, Ron.”
Ron stood up and walked to the door. He turned with his hand still on the doorknob. “Two hours.”
“A mental hospital, Ron?”
“A psychiatric facility, Mr. President. Somewhere with the personnel to help Leo.”
“But Stanley is with him…”
“Yes sir. But Stanley is one man. A good man, but he says he needs more help. He needs the resources of this facility. He has a renowned doctor who has a lot of experience working with soldiers, pilots, who have been held and tortured…”
“My god, Ron,” the President gasped. “Leo was tortured?”
“It has not been confirmed, but Stanley is pretty sure. But that is not what is causing this problem. Stanley thinks it is shame and guilt. Something that Leo could have prevented, or changed, or helped…Leo has taken on a burden of guilt that his subconscious can no longer hold in. He cannot keep it controlled anymore. Too many events in recent history have weakened him and his hold on his self, is tenuous.”
“But a mental…uh, psychiatric hospital?”
“Yes sir. Stanley thinks a breakthrough is close, but he needs more help. I agree and the director also agrees. But we need to plan this carefully…this has to be done impeccably.”
“Okay, Ron. Set it up. Is this a secret service OP or a military one?”
“Combined sir. We are going to have three ambulances arrive and move three patients to various facilities. Leo will be one of them. Middle of the night…very hush hush. But we will have an agent in the room who resembles Leo physically for the duration.”
“That gonna work?”
“Probably not for long, but maybe long enough. The agents name is Lynn McCally. We won’t lie, but we won’t trumpet it. He is having an ligament repair on his knee and will be put in Leo’s room.”
“Okay. I want to be in the loop every step of the way.”
“Yes sir.”
“Ron?”
“Sir?”
“Do you think he is going to make it? Is Leo going to be okay?”
“I am praying, Mr. President. I hope so.”
“Yeah…me too.”
At 3:01am, a sedated Leo was moved onto a gurney and covered with a heavy blanket. The dressing on his head was redone, and made larger to cover the right side of his face down to his cheek. The blanket was tucked high around his face. The gurney was moved by two secret service agents dressed as hospital orderlies, along with a nurse and a paramedic from the ambulance. They took him down a freight elevator to the basement, then wound their way through a tunnel and then back up to street level by a loading dock. They moved him down a ramp and then into the ambulance. It pulled away quietly, no lights or sirens, with the agents and the nurse in the back. The ambulance slowly made its way through the night, stopping at all red lights, never breaking the speed limit, until it arrived thirty-seven minutes later at the Winslow Kettering Psychiatric Hospital.
The ambulance pulled up to the ER entrance and Leo was unloaded and taken straight to an elevator, up to the eleventh floor and into a corner room at the end of a short hall. The blinds in the room were closed and curtains were drawn. Leo was transferred to a bed and a young doctor came in and checked his vitals, spent time looking over his chart and had the nurse give him more sedation to keep him under.
Stanley arrived an hour later and conferred with the doctor. A secret service detail of eight lined the hallway and stood guard inside and outside Leo’s room. No one would ever know who was in the room. Every staff member who entered was ex-military with special code clearance for just such circumstances. D.C. was a political and military town. The need for this kind of secrecy was not acknowledged, but it existed.
Just before dawn, Stanley left to go to his hotel and get some sleep. He was going to need all the sleep he could get, because when Leo woke up the next time, it was probably going to get very ugly. Very ugly indeed.
Leo, sedated in his hospital bed and for the first time, constrained by four point restraints, mumbled and cried out softly. Even the sedation couldn’t stop the dreams. Couldn’t stop the past from tearing its way through his subconscious, through his soul. Deep, deep in Leo McGarry’s subconscious, he wanted it all to end. Any way possible. He didn’t care if he died anymore, if dying meant the silencing of the voices and the smells and the weight…the weight that dragged him down in the depths…the weight that he couldn’t put down.
In the White House, in the residence, another man faced his own demons too and found himself wanting. Found himself wondering why his best friend of forty years had ever told him this horrible truth. Why didn’t he see it? Why didn’t he notice his friend was screaming out for help and no one listened? He didn’t listen. Leo’s ex-wife didn’t listen. ‘We all sat around and let Leo drown. God I wish Abbey was here. I need her …Leo needs her…’
Leo and Digger dragged Boyne through the foothills and into the deep forest, thankful that they were finally under some kind of cover. They needed to find some where were they could hole up, safe from eyes and patrols. They couldn’t keep carrying Boyne much longer. He was a big guy and Leo and Digger were not big men. They were wiry and strong, but they were reaching the limit of what they could do.
Leo saw a shallow ravine ahead that was covered in heavy brush on the north face. “Digger. Over there.”
“Yeah, Leo. Good. Looks like good cover.”
They dragged Boyne down into the ravine and up the other side and into the brush. Leo held out his hand for Digger’s knife and he lopped off branches from further down the side of the ravine and pied them on top of an opening in the brush. They dragged Boyne in and followed, pulling cut branches in after them. They were under a canopy of forest now, so the lighting was more subdued. In camo they were less likely to be seen. Leo checked the makeshift bandage on Boyne’s side made from Leo’s undershirt. He had bled through the cloth and was pale and cold to the touch, even in the 100-degree heat. Leo trickled a bare capful of water into his mouth and handed the canteen to Digger. When it came back to him, he capped it and tucked it in between his legs as he curled up on Boyne’s left and Digger curled up on the right.
The day was getting hotter and hotter and the humidity was unbearable. Leo rested his head on his arm and closed his eyes. If only he could get a few hours’ sleep, just a few. He would feel better. Food would help too, but that had been nonexistent and they were unlikely to find anything edible.
Leo woke from a restless sleep when Boyne became restless and started crying out. Digger woke up too, looking panicked and frightened. Leo tried to calm Boyne, but he knew form the heat radiating off his body and the putrid odor coming from his side, that his wound was infected and he was likely becoming septic. They had no supplies. No way to help him at all. All they could do was try to keep him quiet and hope they ran into a patrol or saw a plane or helicopter fly overhead. Digger had a flare gun with a single flare. That is all he came away with after the crash.
Leo held his hand loosely over Boyne’s mouth, trying to silence him. After a while, he quieted down again, and Leo fell back into a restless dreamless sleep. Then, he heard a noise. Did he really a hear a noise, or was it in his dream. He was at the edge of waking, not sure what was going on, when suddenly something grabbed his foot, yanked and pulled him out from under the cover of the heavy brush. A bayonet on the end of a rifle was shoved into his face and a booted foot slammed into his neck. The same thing happened to Digger. Boyne was dragged out, but they could tell he was not going to fight or run.
Leo was yanked to his feet by his service tags and bent over backwards with a knife at his throat and the bayonet pricking the skin of his stomach. His tags were ripped from his neck and a tall, thin soldier with glasses slapped Leo as hard as could. Leo fell to the ground, the knife at this throat nicking him and drawing blood.
Digger, fell to the ground and cowered, covering his head with his hands, crying out, “Don’t hurt me…don’t hurt me.” Leo slowly climbed to his feet and faced the soldier, who he figured was in charge. He drew himself up and pointed to Boyne on the ground. “He needs help. A doctor.”
A soldier behind Leo rammed the butt of his rifle into Leo’s kidneys. Leo sprawled on the ground and grunted, trying to take a breath. He staggered to his feet again and faced the soldier. “A doctor.” And he was knocked to the ground again, this time with a blow to the head. Blood ran into his eyes as he got up on his hands and knees and tried to stand.
“God damnit Leo, shut up and stay down,” Digger hissed.
The soldier with glasses began speaking in Vietnamese, issuing orders to the soldiers around him. Leo was pulled to his feet. His arms were bound in front of him and his boots were stripped off his feet. Digger was tied up and his boots taken also. The soldier with glasses motioned to Leo that he was to pick up Boyne.
“I can’t. Not by myself. He is too heavy.” He was knocked down again.
“Okay…okay…I get it you fucking animal.” Obviously they didn’t understand English because they didn’t react to Leos comment. He bent down and pulled Boyne to a sitting position, then he bent down and hoisted him up onto his shoulder. He pushed him up and over, so Boyne was bent over his shoulder and back. Leo staggered under Boyne’s weight and almost fell, but managed to start walking.
They walked for hours, Leo losing track of the time quickly. It took all his energy to stay upright with Boyne on his back. He staggered under the weight and fell twice. He had no help getting up; the second time standing up as blows rained down on him. Once he got Boyne back up again, Leo walked in a daze, his entire being whittled down to just one thing. Place one foot in front of the other.
Finally, they came to a stop. Leo was allowed to place Boyne on the ground and he fell next to him. He could hear sounds. People. More than just the small band of soldiers who had found them. This was more. Too many more. A group of soldiers arrived; Leo counted eleven. Two had a makeshift stretcher that they rolled Boyne onto. Four of them grabbed the four corners and hauled him off down the path that Leo just noticed. He was pulled to his feet again and shoved down the path. A hundred feet later, the path opened into a clearing and Leo could see a barbed wire enclosure with a double gate standing open.
Inside the enclosure Leo could see a dozen thatched huts and two low, long wood buildings. A truck and a jeep stood just inside the gate. Along the far side of the enclosure stood four low metal boxes. Solid boxes with bars at the very top, about six inches high on the sides. A heavy solid door with a hasp stood open on each box. Leo’s stomach lurched when he realized they boxes were for him, and Digger and Boyne.
He started to struggle, he knew he had no chance of escaping, but it was a fight/flight reflex he couldn’t control. He was knocked to the ground again and this time four sets of boots kicked him into submission. He was dragged by the ropes binding his wrists to the first box and then shoved inside. The door was slammed and a heavy padlock was closed over the hasp ring. Leo couldn’t move; he lay in a heap on the scorching hot metal floor and closed his eyes. For the first time since this ordeal had started, Leo prayed. ‘God in heaven, help us. Please help us.’
He woke up from a troubled restless sleep and found it was dark and somewhat cooler. The humidity was still oppressive and he could feel bugs crawling on him, biting him. He called out softly, “Digger? Are you there?”
“Leo. Jeez, I been trying to get your attention.”
“I guess I passed out. Are you okay?”
“I hurt like hell, but I think I am okay. I would kill for a cold beer.”
“Dream on, Leo, “Digger snorted.
“What about Boyne. Has he made any noise?”
“Not that I have heard, Leo. He could be dead by now.”
“Shut up Digger.” Leo tried to see out of the bars at the top of the boxed in cage, but it was facing in the wrong direction for him to see anything. “Okay. Try to get some sleep, Dig’s. God knows what the morning will bring.”
“Ya know this was your fault, McGarry. You were combat leader; this was your mission. It’s your fault.”
Leo didn’t answer him, didn’t argue or yell, because Digger was only saying out loud what Leo was already thinking. Of course this was his fault, all his. And he was going to have to find a way to get them out of this mess, if it was the last thing he ever did.
Stanley and Dr. Marvin Klein were in Leo’s room looking at a long strip of paper with squiggles all over it. “The EEG is showing localized areas of hyper-activity. He is in a fugue state now. A severe one with multiple foci. This type of multi-focal fugue state often ushers in a complete break with reality, Stanley. You know that. That is why you have called me in.”
“And because you have had the best results, Marv, of anyone in the field with this. I need your expertise on this.”
“Did you get his file, his military file? That would be very helpful. His history is not unique. Alcoholism, drug addiction, divorce. What is unusual is how long he has been able to function. This man has been the Chief of Staff of the White House, and for all we can tell, had done that job successfully and with flair. So what has finally been responsible for this breakdown? The stress you told me about? Perhaps. I think it is presenting as a perfect storm of events over the last eighteen months. Undoubtedly, PTSD, untreated, from the Rosslyn shooting, the revelations of his drug and alcohol addiction, the kidnapping of his best friend’s daughter, and having the President as his best friend, then these hearings and the censure and now I hear that the first lady blamed him for her daughters kidnapping.
“You said he has been in this new relationship with Ms., uh, Gray, for seven months? Add her PTSD, her unresolved issues, his love and worry over her, and trying to keep his problems from her so she won’t worry about him.
“Good God, Stanley. This guy makes Atlas look like a pansy wimp with what he is carrying on his shoulders. No wonder he cracked. He is after all a mere mortal.”
“He is Leo McGarry. No lesser man could have made it this far.”
“So what do you think the real event is that broke his back?”
“I have a few thoughts, from what he has said, shouted, when in the dream state. I am sure he was tortured. How extensively I am not sure. That alone would not cause this level of disassociation. I think he feels direct responsibility for deaths he could have prevented. I think he may have been, or perceives himself to be, a murderer, or a killer. He is ashamed, guilt ridden and feeling responsible. The thing I can’t get an understanding of is the ‘stench’ and the ‘weight’ he is so focused on. The dreams, the flashbacks and this final fugue state have all started with him complaining about the stench and the weight.”
“I agree. We need to understand that. Are you willing to stop the sedation and try to bring him awake? Hypnosis may be the best way to get a breakthrough.”
“Let’s try. This evening.”
Ron Butterfield entered the room carrying a heavy bound file in his hand. He walked up to Stanley ad handed it to him. “This is it. Leo’s service file.”
“Holy shit. This thing is three inches thick. Okay. Marv, we need to sit down and read through this thing. Now. Thanks, Ron.”
Two hours later Stanley and Marv just sat staring off into space. Stanley roused himself first and cleared his throat.
“I…well…holy mother…Marv, how, why, did they clear him and send him back to fly? I can’t believe they just metaphorically pasted a band aid on his psyche and sent him back out there. Good lord.”
“It was war, Stanley. They needed pilots. He was experienced. He was in his second tour and still alive. They needed him, flawed and broken or not, he could still fly and drop bombs. They used him up, spit him out when he was damn near crippled and forgot about him.”
“I am not sure I want to make him remember this. To remember what happened. Good god, I wouldn’t want to remember this. And I bet this account does not come close to what really happened back then.” Stanley just shook his head and headed back to Leo’s room.
“Leo. Wake up.”
‘No,’ Leo thought in his mind.
“Come on Leo, wake up.”
‘No. Leave me alone.’
“LEO. OPEN YOUR EYES.”
‘NO.’ “Leave me alone.” "SHIT, did I say that out loud?"
Stanley laughed. “Yes, you said that out loud, Leo. C’mon. It’s Stanley. Open your eyes.”
Leo slowly opened his eyes and was relieved to find the lighting in the room was subdued. Almost dark. “Stanley? How ya doin Stanley?”
“Good Leo. How are you?”
“No idea. You tell me.”
“Sit up Leo, sit up and open your eyes all the way. There you go.”
Leo pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around the room. He was not surprised to see three agents and Lewis posted around the room. Stanley and another man stood next to the bed.
“Leo, this is Dr. Klein. I don’t want you to worry but we have had you moved from GW to another facility. The Winslow Kettering Psychiatric Hospital.”
“What? What the hell are you thinking? Lewis?” Leo looked around the room in a panic. ‘No, no, no, no.’
“You put me in a mental hospital?”
“Leo. Slow down. No one knows you are here. Just a very select few people. We needed to be in a facility where we can help you. Now listen to me. Dr. Klein here is an old friend of mine. He is an expert in hypnosis and has had great success in treating military personnel who have endured captivity and more. We want to put you under Leo.”
Leo glared at Stanley and Klein. “Hypnosis is a party trick. No way.”
“It’s not Leo. Not when used properly. Leo, you been sedated for almost a day. The last episode you had was bad. Very bad. Your EEG indicates increased foci of hyper-vigilant activity and areas of senescence that are like dead zones in your brain. Your brain is trying to shut you down Leo. We need to bring this fear, this dread, this ‘thing’ to the surface. You have to look it in the eye and acknowledge it, take away its power over you. You have to do this Leo, or you are not going to come out the other side of this. You’ll go into a fugue state you will not come out of. You will slip into a coma and lie in bed a complete vegetable until someone pulls the plug Leo.”
“Maybe someone should pull the plug, Stanley. Maybe this is it. I am FUCKING tired, Stanley. I can’t fight anymore. I can’t.”
“So, you pull the plug. You give up. What about Nan? What about her Leo? Does she get to visit you in a nice quiet sanatorium somewhere and talk to you, and cry and wonder why you left.”
“That’s not fucking fair, Stanley.”
“No Leo. What you have been through in your life has not been fucking fair. But Leo, look what you have done with that life. You are a powerful man, you have the respect of your staff, the respect of the Democratic Party, you helped a man, your friend, become President, you have the love of a good woman. LEO, that is fucking worth fighting for. Isn’t it?”
Leo fell back on the bed and covered his face with his hands. He couldn’t stop the tears that came pouring down his cheeks. He loved Nan with all his heart. He loved Jed and Josh and CJ, Toby and Sam and Donna. He wanted to fight, but he was just so damned tired.
“I am so tired, Stanley. I am tired. I can’t fight anymore…I just don’t think I can fight anymore.”
“Leo, don’t fight it. Let go. Let it all go. Look at it Leo. See it for what it is. It happened to you thirty years ago. SO WHAT? Let it go, Leo.”
Leo looked at Stanley and then looked over at Lewis. He saw a tear fall down Lewis cheek. He stared at that tear, and realized in a flash that he had people who cared. Nan, Jed, Josh. He looked at Stanley and then over at Klein.
“What if this doesn’t work?”
“You got nothing left to lose, Leo.”
“Okay. Okay.”
Leo sat in a chair in the middle of the room. Stanley sat at his left side in a straight backed chair. Leo was in the recliner with his legs out in front of him. Marvin stood in front of him.
“Where is the cheesy pocket watch, huh?”
“Don’t need it Leo. Just sit back and listen to my voice. Just close your eyes and relax. Take a deep breath. Blow it out. Deep breath in, Leo. Blow it out. In. Out. Keep your eyes closed. Just listen to my voice and relax. Let your body relax, Leo. Just sink into the chair. Your limbs are warm and heavy, Leo. Close your eyes. Your head is heavy. Warm and heavy. You are so relaxed, Leo. You are floating, Leo. So warm and relaxed..." He slowly stopped talking and let the silence in the room continue for a few more minutes, then very softly began to speak again.
“I want you to go back Leo. 1968. Vietnam. You were combat fight leader on a mission. July 17. Go there Leo. Go back there. The mission started off fine. You dropped your bombs, then something happened. What happened? You’ve been hit Leo. Your plane is going down. You eject, you make it to the ground. You are okay. You are alive…but then you are found. You are now a prisoner of the Viet Cong, Leo. What happened? What happened in that camp Leo? What happened when you escaped?
“Go back there Leo. Relax. It can’t hurt you anymore Leo. It’s in the past. The past can’t hurt you anymore. It has shaped you and made you the man you are today, but it’s power over you is gone. You can look back at it now Leo. Look at it. It will not hurt you.”
Leo listened to the words. He felt the words. He wanted to believe that it was true. He wanted to let it go. It had gripped him in its web of lies for so long. Too long. He felt himself fall back, further and further into the past. He went with it. He allowed himself to fall back into the past. He was ready. He was going to…
Leo screamed when they came and pulled him out of the cage. His legs were asleep, full of pins and needles. He couldn’t straighten them, they were cramped and sore. They grabbed him by the legs and tried to make him stand. Every time he fell they beat him and stood him up again. Finally, the feeling came back into his legs and he stood, wobbly, but upright. They stripped his clothing from him, leaving him naked and exposed in the yard in front of everyone.
A man in his fifties stood in front of Leo in the yard. He had gray hair and a puckered scar on his chin that ran down to his throat. He carried a leather riding crop that had seen better days. He made Leo stand in front of him at attention. He walked around Leo, poking at him with the crop. Every third or fourth circuit he would lash out with the crop hitting Leo randomly all over his body. Behind his knees. His buttocks. His hip. His shoulder. His arm. Each time drawing blood and leaving a mark. Leo was dripping sweat and it ran into the wounds making them sting. He didn’t know how, because he had nothing to drink for days.
The soldier walked away and Leo was dragged by two burly men into one of the long low buildings. One end of the building was storage full of crates, piles of wood, machine parts and more. In the middle was an old truck partially dismantled, maybe for parts. On the end where they took Leo it was windowless, lit by naked lightbulbs hanging from cords. Two posts in the middle of the room stood eight feet high and seven feet apart. Almost at the top of each post hung a short chain and at the end of those chains was a manacle. Leo was dragged over and the ropes around his wrists were loosened and ripped from his flesh where the ropes had dug raw grooves into his flesh. He started to bleed as the raw flesh was ripped open.
The tallest of the soldiers grabbed Leo’s left hand and raised it over his head and slapped the manacle around his wrist. Leo groaned in pain as the manacle was tightened and locked with an old fashioned padlock. His other arm was pulled up and locked into place. The men left. They just walked out of the room and left Leo standing there. That scared the shit out of him. He could handle being beaten, he knew what was happening and he could deal with it. This scared him and he knew it was supposed to and that scared him even more.
The sun went down and the camp went to bed. There was no sound, only deathly quiet and the sound of his heartbeat. His arms were totally numb now. First his shoulders ached, then the pins and needles started, then the searing pain and finally, blessedly, the numbness. His legs ached. He was bone tired. But he had to stay awake and he had to stay standing because he was pretty sure his arms couldn’t take it if he fell asleep. It became his mantra…’stay awake…stay awake’.
Leo’s head fell forward and he jerked it back. His eyes flew open. ‘No, no. God, no. Stay awake.’ Over and over during the night it happened. He was beyond exhausted and his body was desperately trying to shut down. He fought it all night, he fought to stay awake, fought to stay standing. But near sunrise the voice started to speak to him, telling him it was okay. “Go ahead Leo. Fall asleep. It’s okay. You need to rest.” He yelled at the voice and told the voice to shut up, but the voice didn’t listen. The voice didn’t care.
As the sun came up he was swaying back and forth, just an inch or so in each direction as that was all the slack there was in the chains. The soldier who had strung him up the afternoon before walked up to him and stared in his face, unmoving. Leo lifted his head and stared back. Then the soldier kicked out and swept Leo’s feet from under him. White hot pain shot through his shoulders and wrists. The weight of his body hung from his arms as he scrambled to get his legs under his body to stand up. Every time he tried, his legs were kicked out again. He tried again to stand and his legs were kicked out again. He took all the weight on his right shoulder and he felt it give way and dislocate as he passed out from the pain.
When Leo came to he was strapped to a wooden table, still in the same room where he had been manacled to the posts. The table was on the other end of the room, situated under a metal shaded light bulb. The light was on so he figured it was getting dark out. He had been out for hours. He was so hungry he didn’t feel hunger anymore, just the overwhelming weakness that comes from no food. He was so thirsty he would give anything for a drink of cold water. His shoulder felt to be back in place but hurt like hell. Leo lifted his head and looked down his body. His hands were strapped at the wrists to the table and further down his ankles were strapped.
The room was empty but Leo knew it wouldn’t be for long. He fell back into a disturbed and restless sleep after having had to stay awake all night to keep from falling asleep and falling onto his arms. Laying down, now, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Leo came awake as searing pain ran down his arm and up into his neck. His eyes flew open and he squinted at the light over his head. His friend was back again, the same soldier from before. Now he was grinding his fist into Leo’s right shoulder, pushing and twisting, bringing Leo awake in agony. Leo screamed in pain and then bit down hard, clamping his jaw shut, shamed that he had shown weakness. The soldier slapped him across the face twice, hard, and then grabbed him by the hair and lifted his head. He saw at his feet the same older man from before and, Leo noticed, the riding crop. ’Shit.’
The man met Leo’s eyes and held him, held his gaze, held him in thrall. Leo could not look away. He could barely breathe. He watched in slow motion as the man raised his arm and brought the crop down on Leo’s shin, one, twice, in rapid succession. Leo didn’t have time to scream as the pain engulfed him. Again, in the same spot, twice more. Leo’s leg was on fire as he gasped for breath. Then he felt the pain in his other leg, four times, hard, deliberate.
Then his thighs. His right. His left. Four times on each. One after the other, no hesitation, deliberate, searing strokes. Leo’s back arched off of the table, his vision white with pain, he could no longer contain the scream that sounded torn form his soul. Then the crop landed on his right shoulder. The pain was beyond anything he had felt thus far. The blows to his legs were nothing compared to the white hot agony as the crop slammed into the twice dislocated shoulder. Leo couldn’t remain conscious under the onslaught and he slipped into blissful unawareness.
When he next woke Leo was still on the same table but now he was on his stomach. He was still strapped down at the four corners of the table. As he became more aware through the throbbing pain in his shoulder. He felt exposed and vulnerable. He could feel the rough wood of the table under his chest and stomach and hips. He wiggled his hips trying to reposition himself on the table and felt the bite of a splinter in his thigh.
He tried to relax his muscles but he couldn’t. He was strung as tight as a bowstring, anticipation of the next visitation by the older man consuming his mind. When he heard the door open on the other side of the room he almost blacked out with dread. He heard the slow approach of footsteps, his heart beating hard with each step.
He heard the whoosh and felt the rush of air a split second before the leather connected with the soft flesh on the backs of his thighs. His body arched, his head and legs coming off the table. Before he could breathe the leather connected again, this time with his buttocks. Once, twice, three times in quick succession. He couldn’t draw in a breath and fell to the table as the crop now struck his back and shoulder relentlessly. His mind dimmed black at the edges as he fought to stay conscious, refusing to give in to the onslaught, refusing to show how weak he was.
Leo struggled to draw breath into his screaming lungs. The blows stopped coming after what seemed like hours. He lay on the table, his cheek crushed into the splintering wood of the table. He knew he was not alone and the silence was deafening. Then he heard a foot step, two three. The man was now up by his head. Leo felt hands in his hair and cried out at the pain in his neck as his head was lifted up by his hair and twisted back. The man grabbed Leo’s face with one hand, fingers and thumb holding him, squeezing at the hinges of his jaw. Tears ran down his cheeks as the man forced him to look up.
The man’s face was an inch from his when he spoke in broken English. “Give up. You are mine. Mine to do what I want. I will hurt you bad. I can make you cry and scream. Tell me truth what I want. Or I kill you.”
“Do it then, ‘cause I won’t tell you anything you freak,” Leo spit at him.
The man pushed down and ground Leo’s face into the wood of the table. He walked around the table and began to rain blows back down on Leos back, buttocks and legs again. He continued this time until Leo blacked out didn’t feel the blows anymore.
Leo stopped talking and stared ahead unmoving. Stanley and Marv looked at each other, wondering where this was going. What Leo was reliving was surely torture and pain, but not the worst that Marv had heard. This couldn’t be all of it. They both looked at Leo when they heard a low growl come from his chest. His eyes were screwed shut.
“Nooooooooo, shit, god no…”
Marv spoke softly,” It’s okay Leo. It happened thirty years ago. You are safe with us here. Just see it, look at it.”
“I… noooooooo. They tied me up again, this time…jesus, I am still on the table…but now…
Leo woke up slowly and felt the change in his position. He was still on the table, but just his upper body. He was bent over the table and his legs were chained to the legs of the table. His upper body was stretched on the table, his arms over his head and chained at the top far corners by the wrists. He could not move he was stretched to tightly.
When the door opened this time he almost blacked out he was so panicked. ‘No, oh shit…no.’ He was drawn as tight as a wire…he couldn’t move…he held his breath and waited. What happened next left him stunned and more scared than he had been yet.
The man stood behind him and laid a hand on his lower back, almost gently.
“I will make you talk…you will give up the information I want.”
“No…never…” Leo rasped as he fought the chains.
The next sound he heard left him bereft of feeling…his mind blanked…he felt the abyss of blackness engulfing him as he ran away in his head…
The sound of a zipper being undone and a hand on his hip…
Leo arched back in the chair as Stanley and Marv watched him. He wrapped his arms around his head and screamed.
“Nooooooo….oh god…no…”
Marv moved in front of Leo and hovered over him…” Leo, it’s okay…it can’t hurt you…”
Leo shrank back into the chair and pulled himself into ball.
“Leo…what happened…remember…it cannot hurt you…”
“Fuck you…fuck you…get away from me…God…he…JESUS…”
Marv reached out and touched Leo’s shoulder and he howled as if in physical agony. “Don’t touch me…get away…FUCK…don’t…”
Stanley moved in talked softly, “Leo, let it go…it’s okay.”
“No…no…its not…god….it hurts…it hurts…oh god…” Leo raised his head and looked at Stanley with utter shame and fear and agony on his face. “He…god…he raped…he fucked me…god…do you get it he…” Leo curled back into himself and sobbed as Stanley backed away and sat next to him.
Marv and Stanley shared a glance. Lewis next to the door looked like he was going to puke and Cruze stood next to him with wide eyes.
Stanley moved close to Leo again and spoke softly. “Leo, can I touch you?” Leo never answered and Stanley carefully placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Leo. Talk to me. Was it just the once? Did it happen again?”
Leo answered but his face was still buried under his arms and Stanley had to strain to hear his soft reply.
“Just the one time…they dragged me out and threw me back in the box after. They left me there…I was bleeding…it hurt…”
“What happened after that Leo?”
“I don’t know. It was…I don’t remember…a couple of days, I think…they pulled us all out. They gave my clothes back. I put them on…they dragged us to a truck…we were put in the truck…we were shackled…I was shackled to Boyne…I though he was dead…he should be dead…”
“Oh my god…Digger…he is still alive…Boyne is still alive…”
“I was shackled to Boyne…manacles…irons…our feet and hands…Digger was with another guy…Army…we were put in the truck…I think they were taking us to Hanoi…”
“Oh god…we’ll never get away…Hanoi…Jesus...I want to go home…I want to see my sisters…I don’t want to leave them…God…please…”
Leo completely fell apart then, sobbing, his shoulders heaving. Stanley put a hand on his head and looked at Marv. “It’s okay Leo. It’s okay.”
“Marv, bring him out.”
Marv moved next to Leo and spoke softly. “Leo, I want you to come back to us now. It’s okay now. You can wake up. You are sitting in a chair in the hospital. Your friends are here with you. It’s safe, Leo. No one will hurt you. You are far away from the past Leo. It has no power over you.”
Slowly, Leo’s breathing slowed and the sobs stopped. He lifted his head and looked around the room. He saw Lewis who gave Leo a smile even though he felt sick. Stanley put a hand on his arm.
“How do you feel Leo?”
“Okay, I guess. I uh…” his eyes widened and he stared at Stanley. “Oh, God…Oh, Jesus…” he shrank away from Stanley. “I remember…oh…shit…” he leaned over the side of the chair and vomited onto the floor. Stanley rubbed his back and spoke softly. “It’s okay Leo. It was a long time ago. It happened, but you have moved on…it has no power over you anymore. Remember that…the past has no power over you anymore.”
“But it does, Stanley,” he muttered so softly he was barely heard. “It lives in me every day…and that’s not the worst. I now there’s more in my head…something that is terrible and I don’t want to know…but it wants out, Stanley.” He lifted his head and looked up. Stanley saw the haunted, bleak pain in his eyes. “I don’t want to know. I don’t…I don’t…want to know…”
“Not today, Leo. You need to rest. Lewis?”
Lewis walked over and squatted down by Leo. “Sir, come with me. We’ll get you some food and let you rest. How does that sound?”
Leo gave Lewis a weak grin. “Make it a venti dark roast and you’re on.”
“You got it, Mr. McGarry,” Lewis grinned back as he helped Leo to his feet and walked him from the room.
Stanley turned to Marv and sighed as they took a seat at the table in the corner. They sat in silence for a while each lost in thought until Stanley slammed his hand on the table. Marv jumped and glared at him. “What?”
“I still can’t believe that Leo was sent back to fly again after this happened. How the hell…”
“Do we know how he escaped?”
“There is not a ton of detail in the reports we read. It’s almost like the one’s asking the questions during his interviews after didn’t want to know. The less they knew the better, so they could send him back.”
Marv shook his head. “I don’t think it was that devious, Stanley. I am betting that Leo was blocking this all out, burying it, before they even got him on a chopper after he was found. Whatever else happened out there, the trauma, was so horrible to him that he has completely repressed it. The guys who interviewed him…they had no idea of the questions to ask…hell…not many did. We have learned a lot over the years…and the questions and methods have changed.
“Now…he would never fly again after something like this. But back then…” Marv shrugged.
“Leo is a very proud and honorable man. He is also a very strong man. This…event…this trauma…is something he has been unable to resolve…on his own.”
“Are we going to cause more damage by making him remember, Marv?”
“Perhaps. But if we don’t…he can’t go on like this. We make him remember and hope he can cope and we help him if he can’t.”
“Yeah.”
Leo lay back in the hospital bed, surrounded by soft pillows and covered with a heavy quilted throw. At Winslow Kettering the homey touch was preferred over hospital chic. His bed had a wooden headboard and the chairs in the room were soft and fabric covered. The light came from floor lamps and the beds were comfortable and covered in warm soft coverings. Leo was propped up with pillows clutching a venti Starbucks dark roast that he refused to put down to eat.
“I’ll eat when the coffee is gone Lewis. God, I needed this.”
Lewis chuckled. “Your caffeine addiction is well documented, sir. I won’t let anyone steal it. You should eat while your food is warm. That omelet looks pretty tasty.”
“Don’t push, Lewis. Please, just…”
“Yes sir.”
“Lewis…”
“Sir.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Lewis smiled and went back into the corridor to guard Leo’s door. Leo pushed the food away and stared at it for a minute, then pulled it back and took a forkful of the cheese and mushroom omelet and chewed. His eyebrow went up and he took another bite, then the potatoes and even at the toast. In the end he ate it all. He finished his coffee, pushed the tray away and curled up under the quilt. When Lewis came in thirty minutes later, he smiled when he saw the empty plate, turned out the lights and closed the door.
Stanley was taken up to the Residence by Ron Butterfield. The President silently shook his hand and then sat on the sofa, waving his hand at chair across from him for Stanley. Ron turned to leave. “Ron. Stay. You should know what is going on with Leo.”
Ron nodded and took a chair next to Stanley. He sat ramrod straight and looked at his hands. The President studied Stanley for a few moments.
“So Stanley, how is he doing?” Jed leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“He is having a rough go of it sir. These memories, these things that happened to him, so long ago, are really trying to come to the surface…and he doesn’t want them to. He has spent a lifetime repressing them. We had a break through…yesterday. He remembered some…things…that were obviously very deeply rooted. He…”
“What things, Stanley?”
“Sir, I think he should be the one to tell you this. Doctor patient confidentiality and all, sir. It is not my place to tell you these things. You should talk to him.”
“Stanley, I can’t be with him right now. And even though I will welcome him back, we do need to know if he is going to be able TO come back. Will he be? He has had a pretty bad break, Stanley. Leo has fought off the stigma of alcoholism, drug addiction, a failed marriage, being called a liar…can he fight off the stigma of mental illness?”
“It is not mental illness sir. He has PTSD. I know people find it hard to distinguish it from a ‘mental illness’, but if we get him through this process he will be fine…he will be better. He will have come to terms with his past and what happened and I dare say will be a happier person, more able to cope and carry on. He will be fine…but it is not an easy path.”
“I am starting to get questions, Stanley. People are wondering where the very visible chief of staff has gone. If they find out before he, we, are ready, his career is over…and I can’t do this without him…”
“Sir, you could if you had to…but you won’t have to. What we are helping Leo to finally release are very difficult things…horrible things…done to him during a very brutal time. I think we should let him decide what he wants to reveal.”
“Ya know, I never knew he had been a POW. I never knew he was captured and held and…tortured? What happened to him that he had to bury so deep it began to haunt and torment him? I want to help him, Stanley. I need to help him…I feel…”
“Sir, you did nothing wrong that made Leo hide this from you. He has hidden it from everyone…including himself. He may not want to reveal what happened, I am sure he won’t want to. And I will not reveal what has been said thus far. I can’t. I took an oath.”
“Fine. Okay. Thanks, Stanley, for helping him. Thank you.”
Stanley nodded and rose. He walked over to the door as Ron followed behind and opened the door for him. “Take him to his car,” he told the agent at the door then he went back and sat across from the President.
“Ron, you said that Lewis and Cruze were in the session…”
“No, sir. Stop right there. I am sorry, but you are not going to grill his agents to get the information you want. They are Mr. McGarry’s agents and they have a responsibility to him and him alone. Unless it is life threatening, they will not reveal personal accounts to anyone. Not even me. And you know there is a reason for that.”
The President leaned back and shook his head. “I know. I’m sorry Ron. I am. I am just so worried about my friend…if I could do anything to help him…”
Ron sighed. “Sir, if we can get you a visit with Leo…would that make you feel better?”
The President’s face lit up. “Yeah, Ron. It would.”
“Okay. Let me think about this. The last thing we need is a photo of the President being smuggled into psychiatric hospital.” Ron stood and left the President alone with his thoughts.
Nan sat in her office looking out of her window. She had no desire to work. She had no desire to be there at all. She wanted to be with Leo. She wanted him home, back in his apartment, lounging on the sofa drinking coffee and laughing. She was afraid she might never get a chance to do that again. She wanted to cook a meal with him and then do the dishes after. She wanted to curl in his arms and sleep with him. She wanted to kiss him and tell him how much she loved him.
Most of all, she wanted to tell how sorry she was that she missed his pain, didn’t see what was happening, wasn’t there for him in his hour of need. She didn’t her the soft knock on her door so she jumped when she realized that Nancy was standing in front of her desk with her hands on her hips.