I couldn't dress without you.
Contains angst
End of the show. I don't own the West Wing.
"You used to love it when I couldn't dress without you."
Now it's not all she does.
After the second shooting I can't do much for myself.
We'd had too much luck between us, surviving Rossalyn, surviving Gaza, getting Santos into the White House, our own two daughters, we've had a good life.
But the second shooting got us.
Three shots: one in my leg, one in my kidney, one in my spine.
She looks after me now.
Our daughters visit when they're not busy with their own lives. But they usually are.
Now she dresses me, bathes me, feeds me, she does everything.
But I can't let her do it anymore.
She's my wife, I love her, but I can't keep draining her spirit.
It's been a third of a decade; we've lost Leo, soon after the president.
Everything, everyone is gone.
If only I could be with them.
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