Getting to Yes, a west wing fanfic

leomcgarry.net: Fanfic: Getting to Yes

Getting to Yes
Jane Harper

RATING: PG-13
SYNOPSIS: Leo doesn't take no for an answer.
ARCHIVE: Sure. Just let me know where. HTML available.
DISCLAIMER: We didn't start the fire – we're just throwin' gasoline on it. Burn, baby, burn. Lyrics are ©1971 Joni Mitchell Music, Inc. and ©1983 Joel Songs, used without permission.

The West Wing was all abuzz. For that matter, so were the East Wing and the OEOB. The baby boomers who made up the bulk of department heads, agency directors, and senior staff all thought they had died and gone to heaven.
"Did you see that list?" Toby asked Ginger. "Did you see that list??"
"Uh, yeah," she answered, "but I didn't recognize half the names on it."
He shook his head. "I'm surrounded by Philistines."
"No, I'm just still on the trustworthy side of thirty!" She winked at him and went back to work.
"Didn't you hear?" he called after her. "Somewhere around 1985 we changed that to 'Never trust anybody under thirty!'"

"You still spend too much money, Leo," Margaret was saying.
"And you still squeeze a nickel until there's buffalo chips!"
"You're showing your age. There haven't been buffalo nickels since—"
"Margaret…"
"OK. I'll call. What size was that again?"
"No, I've changed my mind," he said. "I'll go up and pick something out myself. Can you get me tickets for the shuttle on Thursday afternoon, and then call and tell them I'm coming?"
"You sure you wouldn't rather someone from there bring you some things here?"
"And take a chance that the perfect one is sitting up there in the vault? No. I'll go. And you won't tell anybody, right?"
"Right." Margaret smiled a conspiratorial smile.

"I'm sorry, Mal, I don't know who any of those people are! I believe you if you say that it's going to be wild, but…"
"Seaborn, what planet were you raised on? These people were the soundtrack for my childhood!"
"Oh, well, that's a genuine tribute, considering what you've told me—"
"No, they're some of the best memories I have. I can still close my eyes and see Mom and Dad dancing around the kitchen with the stereo turned up, singing at the top of their lungs, and laughing . . . I couldn't dance, really, but I jumped up and down like a rabbit and they loved it. Dad would pick me up and toss me around . . ."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes!"
"I'm having a really hard time visualizing that."
Mallory burst out laughing. "I can just bet you are!" She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder. "What kind of music were you raised with?"
"My dad was a jazz musician. I cut my teeth on Miles Davis and Coltrane."
"Who?"
"I rest my case."
"Be that as it may, you're going."
"I'll see if I can arrange for a national emergency that night."
"If you do, you'll be managing it all by yourself. Everybody else will be at the concert."

Josh was scratching his head as he stared at the press release. "I didn't know most of these people were still alive!"
"Thanks a lot, Josh," Leo responded. "We're not that old."
"Well, you know what I mean—"
"I do?"
"You know, a lot of your generation . . . I mean, the artists of your generation . . . died young . . . " He stared at the ceiling for a minute. "Lemme try that again."
"Don't bother," McGarry replied with a hint of a grin. "I'll just go sit in my rocking chair now."
He looked at the press release again. "My dad woulda loved this."
"Yes he would."
Staring off into the distance for a moment, Josh said, "Maybe he'll have a better seat than any of us."

"Stop laughing, Abbey. I came here to ask for some serious advice."
"I can't help it! Who'd've ever thought, Leo McGarry at a loss for words!"
"Ok, ok, enjoy yourself while it lasts." He chuckled at himself and shook his head. "I'll remember this the next time you need help!"
The First Lady was fighting a losing battle trying to keep her face straight, and kept bursting into brief bouts of giggles.
"Abbey!!"
"Okay. I'll take some deep breaths. Maybe that will—" she was off on another giggle fit.
"You're gonna hurt my feelings, Abigail Rose."
"I just don't remember you being so tongue-tied last— Oops. I'm really sorry, Leo. I didn't mean to—"
"Don't worry about it. We can't pretend I haven't been here before."
"You're right." She nodded. "At least that made me stop giggling."
"So as I was saying, I really have no idea how to go about this. And I'd really appreciate any input you might have."
"Well, you can't go wrong with romance."
"Oh I'm counting on that. I just want it to be the most memorable event in her . . . uh . . . well, extraordinarily memorable."
"Has she been there before?"
"Yeah, twice. At least two times that she . . . that it was legal."
"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Abbey looked frankly concerned. "You can't even bring yourself to say the word!"
"It's not a word I thought I'd ever say again, certainly not this soon."
"How's Mal about it?"
"She thinks it's about time," he answered, grinning. "She brought it up last fall!"
"Well, shoot me for this, but I knew today would come when the four of us went out that first time. You were sunk already."
"I was not!"
"Yes, you were. And so was she. By the way, why did you wait so long to let her seduce you?"
"Let her seduce me? Please! I'm insulted! I had to hit her over the head and carry her off!"
"That's not what I heard."
"Who you gonna believe, her or me?" he asked innocently. "Don't answer that."
"What about at the concert? Maybe we could arrange for somebody to sing something special . . . I don't imagine any of them would say no to the President."
"That's a great idea. She loves music, she plays the piano."
"She plays the piano?"
"Like an angel. The night I first asked her out, she played Bach for Toby."
Abbey reached out and covered one of his hands with one of hers. "Leo, are you sure about this? I thought it would take you a lot longer."
"Why postpone the inevitable?" he asked with a smirk and a shrug.
"You're certain about how she feels?"
He nodded.
"You're certain she knows how you feel?"
He nodded again. "It was awhile before I could get the words out . . ."
"I'll bet." She smiled. "You're not a demonstrative man."
"You know what really did it?"
"What?"
"The night I wasn't there. After the . . . incident at the condo. I figured if she had to call John Hoynes for moral support, I was doing a pretty piss-poor job."
A look of discomfort flashed momentarily across Abbey's face.
"You OK?" he asked.
She nodded. "I'm fine." She smiled her sweetest.
"Anyway, there are some things you can do for me."
"OK."
"Take her to lunch or something, willya? See what you can find out that might be pertinent? It'll look pretty obvious if I ask her this stuff."
"OK."
"And come with me on Thursday. I'm going up to the City to buy—"
"I'd love to. Just you and me and Sheryl, she likes Sarah a lot."
"Yeah, we'll need an armed escort on the way back." He grinned again.
"You know what, Leo?" Abbey asked as she turned to leave.
"What?"
"You're smiling a lot more these days."

"I don't know, CJ," Sarah said over her falafel. "These guys don't know what they're missing."
"You got that right. These are wonderful."
"Thanks for coming with me. I need some girl talk."
"What's up?"
"Can we gossip about your boss?"
"Toby? What'd he do now?"
"Not Toby. My POSSLQ." She pronounced it 'possel-cue'.
CJ burst out laughing. "I haven't heard that for awhile! What's up?"
"I'm not sure, but something is."
"What do you mean?"
"He's hiding something. What's going on over there?"
"Nothing that you don't know about, I don't think. In any case, if there is a secret, I'm out of the loop."
"Uh huh, that line's been used before."
"With better luck, I guess."
Sarah nodded. "At least some people believed him."
"Seriously," CJ went on, "I'm not aware of anything. But it's not like he confides in me .. why don't you ask Margaret?"
"I did – and she said nothing, very loudly. That's why I'm suspicious."
The lanky brunette grinned. "Ah, I see. OK, I'll try to find out something."
Later that day, CJ went to see Margaret.
"Leo's gone to the Hill," she told the Press Secretary.
"Oh, OK." With careful nonchalance, she went on. "Margaret, you've been walking around here for the last day or so looking like the cat that ate the canary. What's up?"
Margaret did her imitation-Leo-smirk, and sang "Dum-dum-da-dum" to the tune of the Wedding March.
"Who's getting married?" CJ's eyes sparkled. "I love weddings."
Margaret cocked her head in the direction of Leo's office.
"You're kidding! YOU'RE KIDDING!!" She slapped both hands over her mouth and started bouncing up and down.
"Shhhh!" Margaret said. "It's a secret. He and Abbey are going to New York Thursday to buy the ring."
"Oh, so she hasn't— I mean he hasn't—"
"No. Not yet."
"OK." CJ giggled all the way back to her office.

As Leo was on his way out that night, he stopped by Toby's office.
"Hey," he began. "You're here late."
"You're leaving before me," Ziegler responded. "You feeling OK?"
"Yeah, why?"
"You've been smiling entirely too much lately, Leo."
This brought a smile in response.
"See?"
"Toby, I need a favor."
"OK."
"I'd like to talk to your rabbi. Could I have his number please?"
A sly smile started across Toby's face. "And why are you talking to my rabbi? Is there something you'd like to tell me, Leo?"
"No."
"Why aren't you talking to Sarah's rabbi? Because he'd tell you not to do what you're thinking about doing?"
"Toby, I—"
"I think it's great. And I won't tell." He wrote something down on a card and handed it to McGarry. "Here."
Josh walked up behind Leo. "You won't tell what?"
"Why don't I just put an ad in the _Post_?" the older man asked.
"I'd use USA Today," Toby responded.
"About what?"
"Leo needs to talk to a rabbi."
Josh grinned. "About . . . ?"
"About what do you think?" Leo responded, irritated.
"Uh, well, let's see, nobody died, so it's not a funeral . . . and I can't imagine you'd be arranging a bris . . . so . . . " Josh's smile was so big his face was in danger of splitting. "Could it be . . . a celebration of some sort??"
"Guys, she doesn't know yet."
"Then how do you know—" Josh asked.
"Yeah, she might have better sense than you think," Toby chimed in wryly.
"You're depressing me."
"OK." Josh was still grinning.
"Leo, she may want to pick her own rabbi," Toby suggested.
"At this point all I want to do is, find out what to expect. Talk to a rabbi. And her rabbi would torpedo the idea because I'm a shiggush."
The other two laughed. "Shaygetz. Don't bring the Yiddish unless you know what you're doing," Josh said. Then, he looked at Toby. "Should we tell him about the secret ceremony?"
"Naw, it'd spoil the surprise," he responded with a smirk.
Leo threw his hands up and walked out.

The next day Abbey had lunch with Sarah in the East Wing, as she had promised.
"Leo's been looking pretty content lately," she began. "You must be doing something right."
"I dunno, I'm just doing what I do." She dabbed the corner of her mouth.
"You two are good for each other."
"Well, we're sure good for me. Especially since . . . especially lately. I swear, for the last few weeks he's actually been home at a decent hour at least once a week. And he's usually home for Shabbat dinner."
"You mean Shabbat dessert," Abbey quipped with an evil grin. "I've seen Yentl."
Sarah laughed. "Yeah, well, whatever works, right?"
"So when can I expect an announcement?" the First Lady asked.
"An announcement of what?"
"Sarah!"
She blushed. "I don't know. Maybe never."
"You mean if he asked you'd say no?"
"Probably."
"Whatever for?"
"I don't believe in mixed marriages, Abbey."
The diminutive redhead put down her fork. "You don't believe in mixed marriages?"
"No."
"But doesn't that have to do more with children than anything else?"
"It's the principle of the thing."
"And for the sake of this principle you're prepared to lose the love of your life?"
Sarah didn't answer for a moment. "If he said either marry me or leave me, I'd have a really tough decision to make. But why would he say that? What's wrong with what we have now?"
"Nothing necessarily, at the moment. But we're going to be walking into a re-election campaign in a couple of months, and whether or not we like it, there might be repercussions if the President's Chief-of-Staff is living with someone he's not married to."
"Oh, Abbey, I hope that's not so. I mean, are people who care about that kind of thing likely to support the President anyway? He hasn't spent a lot of time romancing the character cops and their allies."
"Fair point." She took another bite of salad. "You've been married before, right?"
She nodded. "Twice. Been there, done that, got the papers."
Abbey finished her meal and pushed the dishes aside. "Leo asked me to talk to you about something."
"What, he can't talk to me himself?"
"I'm not supposed to tell you. I was supposed to worm this out of you without you knowing." She giggled conspiratorially.
"OK, what's up?"
"He wants to buy you something wildly expensive – I think he was looking at broaches or necklaces – and he doesn't know what your favorite gemstone is. What's your birthstone?"
"Sapphire, speaking of wildly expensive. I wouldn't cry if he got me, oh, say a four-carat flawless midnight blue Burmese sapphire .."
Abbey laughed. "Not bad coming from somebody who won't let her lover hire a housekeeper!"
"I don't need a housekeeper. I could make a case for desperately needing a sapphire necklace. State dinners, and such." She grinned ear to ear.
"Speaking of which, we're gonna be doing that again in a couple of months, so start looking for a dress."
"Oh goody. Another three weeks of nonstop sewing."
"What?"
"I make most of my own clothes, Abbey. I hate shopping for clothes. It's hell when you can't stand up. You get the evil eye from saleswomen because you wrinkle the merchandise. You have to take someone into the changing room to help you in and out of stuff. It's a pain, it's embarrassing, and I won't do it."
"Did you make that gorgeous thing you wore to the last state dinner?"
"Yes ma'am, I did." She beamed.
"Wow."
"And it was an unmitigated pain in the ass. But even that's better than shopping. So thanks for the heads-up. I'd better get going on a new one."
The two women moved from the dining room into the den and got comfortable, Abbey with a glass of brandy, Sarah with some tea.
"What's this I hear about you playing the piano?" Abbey asked.
"Yeah. Since I was four."
"You'll have to play for me someday."
"Sure, anytime." She took a sip of tea. "In fact, you asked what I'd say if Leo proposed? I know exactly what I'd say .. or rather sing, if I had the chance."
Abbey got up and extended a hand in the direction of the sitting room. "Can I hear it?"
They went over to the piano and Sarah opened up the keyboard.
"I don't know if I can remember all the words .. it's been years." She ran through some chords and then started an intro. Smiling, she said, "I played this for Leo the night he first asked me out. . . .

My old man, he's a singer in the park / he's a walker in the rain, he's a dancer in the dark;
We don't need no piece of paper from the City Hall keeping us tied and true.
My old man, keeping away my blues.
He's my sunshine in the morning, he's the fireworks at the end of the day,
He's the warmest chord I ever heard / play that warm chord, play and stay.
We don't need no piece of paper from the City Hall keeping us tied and true.
My old man, keeping away my blues…

She smiled again. "That night he said he wanted to meet the guy." Her eyes looked off into the distance as she recalled. "I told him there wasn't one."
Abbey leaned on the top of the piano and swirled her brandy in the snifter. "And that's what you'd say if he proposed? That you don't need a piece of paper?"
"Yeah."
That afternoon Abbey went by to see Leo and caught him between meetings. She flopped down on the sofa in his office.
"Well, I've got good news and I've got bad news. Which do you want first?"
"The bad news."
"She says if you asked she'd say no."
He sat down in a hurry, stunned. "Did she say why?"
"She doesn't believe in mixed marriage."
He heaved a heavy sigh. "Oh. What's the good news?"
Abbey grinned at him. "She's lying."
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
"I can see it in her face. She's scared. She thinks if she marries you that will kill the relationship, that you'll take her for granted. She's afraid that she'll be widowed by your job, just like Jenny was; only Jenny had thirty years with you first."
"I'm working very hard to make sure that doesn't happen."
"And she's aware of that. She mentioned how much more attentive you'd been to her in the past few weeks. But she's terrified." She saw the fear in his eyes. "Leo, you can handle this. It'll be OK. She'll come around."
Margaret came in to remind Leo about his next appointment, and Abbey got up and went to the door. "One more thing, about tomorrow; the Secret Service won't let me take a commercial flight. We'll leave from Andrews at whatever time you want, and they'll wait to bring us home."
He nodded as she left.

"Do you think she'd like this one?" Leo asked Abbey as he examined one of several large loose sapphires.
"It's as if she ordered it. She told me she wanted a four-carat midnight blue Burmese sapphire. And there it is."
He turned to the jeweler. "Can you show me some settings? Platinum, I think. With a couple of accent diamonds."
"Of course, Mr. McGarry. You have such wonderful taste." He walked back into the showroom to pull a tray of empty settings.
Abbey rolled her eyes around. "You have such wonderful taste!" she mocked in a whisper.
"I have a wonderful platinum card," he whispered in return as the other man returned.
"May I suggest," the jeweler said, pointing at two particular rings, "one of these settings? This one takes two accent diamonds on either side. It would be lovely with an oval-cut stone like the one you've chosen. I'd also recommend that the accent stones be a quarter to a half carat each, because their shine will set off the sapphire so well."
"Fine," Leo said, indicating the suggested setting. "Can you put the sapphire in this and add the accent stones? We need to be getting back to Washington."
"Of course, Mr. McGarry. We'll do that right now. Make yourselves comfortable in the sitting room."
A few minutes later the jeweler brought the ring out in a beautiful midnight blue velvet box. Leo looked at it and passed it to Abbey, who nodded. "If she doesn't love that, she's crazy." Eyes sparkling, she added, "On the other hand, she's in love with you, so maybe she is crazy."
He grinned, turning to one of the agents. "Could you two turn your backs for a second please? I need to smack your protectee upside the head."

That evening Abbey was getting settled for sleep when Jed finally got away from the Oval.
"Hi Pumpkin! You're coming to bed early."
"Shhhhh… somebody might hear you." He grinned. "And I have to be up at 3:30 for some sort of conference call." He sat down on the end of the bed to take his shoes and socks off. "How was your day? You went somewhere?"
"Leo wanted me to go to New York with him."
"What was he going up there for? Was he seeing—"
"Shopping."
"Shopping?? Leo took you shopping? He's cracking up."
"He wanted my help picking something out."
"What?"
"We went to Harry Winston to buy some jewelry."
"My, aren't we getting to be the dandy!"
"A four-carat flawless sapphire solitaire."
"A bit ostentatious for someone his age, don't you think?" He grinned.
"It's not for him."
"Mallory seems more like the emerald type to me."
"She is. They look fabulous with her coloring."
"OK, it's not for him, it's not for Mallory . . ."
"Earth to Josiah! Who else is left?"
"Sarah? Our Sarah? He's buying her— Abbey!! Is he .. ??"
She nodded. "He is."
"When?"
"Tomorrow night, at the concert. And mum's the word! She has no idea!"
"That must be why he wanted Sam and Mallory in the box with us."
Abbey nodded as she slid between the sheets, patting the bed next to her. Once he was in bed, she put her head on her husband's shoulder and cuddled up next to him. As she was drifting off, she heard him say, "Tell me again why the Grateful Dead aren't going to play tomorrow night?"
"Jerry Garcia died, Jed. For real. They don't exist anymore."
"Oh," he said, falling asleep. "I knew it was something like that."

Washington's baby boomer glitterati turned out in force for the concert to begin to raise a war chest for Bartlet's re-election. The atmosphere was reminiscent of the Inaugural, nearly three years before, in the blending of several public worlds in black-tie elegance. Abbey was in a garnet-colored taffeta dress with a white knit bolero jacket; Sarah was in bright red velvet and brocade. The President and the First Lady rode in the front limo with Leo and Sarah; Zoey, Charlie, Mallory and Sam were in the second. As the motorcade wound its way from the White House to Kennedy Center, Leo turned to Abbey and murmured, "Did you take care of the 'special request'?"
"Of course. He said he'd be happy to accommodate the President." She grinned ear to ear.
Bartlet peered at his Chief-of-Staff. "Calm down, Leo. You're being a nervous Nellie."
"I'm fine, Sir."
Sarah looked over with concern. "Are you ok, Irish?"
"I'm fine. Just tired, that's all."
She reached over and took his hand. "OK."
"We should have had this outside," the President continued. "The weather is lovely, it would have been nice."
"A wonderful idea, Mr. President. We could just have pitched tents on the Mall and made it look like Woodstock."
Sarah laughed. "It rained buckets at Woodstock."
"What do I know?" Leo shrugged. "I was in the Navy."
The concert went well, the performances were stellar, everyone seemed to be enjoying the evening. Just before intermission, the piano man on the stage looked up at the Presidential box.
"I've been asked to do something special tonight," he began, tickling the keys with a blues riff. "Mr. President, I understand this has to do with a special occasion for someone close to you." He shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted into the lights. "The message I've been asked to convey is – I hope I get this right – Toots, this is for you."
Sarah blushed from her hairline to her toenails.
He cued the band, and they began.

If you said goodbye to me tonight, there would still be music left to write.
What else could I do / I'm so inspired by you
That hasn't happened in the longest time.
Once I thought my innocence was gone / now I know that happiness goes on
That's where you found me / when you put your arms around me
I haven't been there for the longest time. . .

Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she reached over and took Leo's hand. She looked over at Abbey, who was blinking back a few tears herself; and Mallory, who was leaning on Sam's shoulder with a broad smile. Charlie and Zoey were cuddling in the other corner of the box. No one made a sound.

I had second thoughts from the start,
I said to myself, hold onto your heart
Now I know the woman that you are / you're wonderful so far / and it's more than I'd hoped for
I don't care what consequence it brings / I have been a fool for lesser things
I want you so bad / I think you ought to know that
I intend to hold you for the longest time. . .

The band finished and the lights came up for intermission. The President got up – and therefore, so did everyone else – but he waved Leo back into his seat and said to the others, "Come on, group, let's leave these two alone." They all escaped into the anteroom between the box and the lobby.
Sarah glanced around, confused, and waited. After everybody left, Leo turned to her and reached into his jacket pocket.
"I got you something yesterday," he began, handing her the box.
She opened it and gasped at the gorgeous jewels inside. Wiping her eyes, she said, "Abigail Bartlet, I'll get you. Abbey said you were going to buy a necklace!"
"I'll get you one to match it if you want."
"This is incredibly beautiful, Irish."
"Will you take it?"
She began to suspect that there was more to the gift than just the jewelry. "I don't know. What does it mean if I do?"
"Well," he said a little bashfully, "I was thinking maybe it might be time for us to get married."
Her conversation with Abbey came rushing back into memory. "Are you serious?"
Deadpan, he answered, "Look at my face! Am I kidding?"
"I guess not." She waited a moment. "You want an answer now?"
He nodded. "That would be good."
"Maybe," she said.
"Maybe?"
"Maybe. That's the best I can do right now."
"Well are you on the leaning-toward-yes side of maybe, or the leaning-toward-no side?"
"Irish! I said maybe!" She waited a beat. "My parents would have a cow."
"Your father will love me, he's an Irishman. Your mother is dead."
"You think that'll stop her?"
He sighed again. "Whatever." He began to look defeated.
"Besides, you're not Jewish."
"Noticed that, did ya?"
"If you really want this to happen, Irish, I've got to get past that."
"Is it really so big a deal? I mean, we're both too old for kids, and isn't that the real issue?"
"I suppose," she answered.
"There's something else."
She nodded.
"What?"
"Irish …"
"Just spit it out."
"After what happened the night after the assault—"
"The night you got drunk and called Hoynes."
"Yeah. I worry that I can't trust you to be there." Well, she thought, now you've said it. "And that you don't trust me around him."
"It's not that I don't trust you around him, I don't trust him around you."
"He's never been anything other than a southern gentleman, Leo. Nor do I expect him ever to be. He and Abbey are my best friends, and I don't know if I can handle having to fight with you about him, over and over again."
"I don't know what to say, Toots."
"Say you trust me to maintain the limits to that relationship, the way I do to every other one I have. You don't worry about me shagging Abbey, do you?" She grinned.
He smirked. "Tell you the truth, I never thought about it. Can I watch?"
"No! I mean, there's nothing to watch! I mean—" she sputtered. "Irish!"
He laughed.
She blushed and swatted his arm. "C'mon, I'm serious."
He forced a straight face, with visible difficulty.
"There's that, and after what happened the night I had to call John, we need to work something out about my being able to reach you."
"Now Sarah, you knew—"
"Yes I did, and do you see me calling you about every hangnail? But I think I have the right to expect to be able to reach my husband when there's a genuine crisis!"
"Say that again," he said softly. "I like the sound of that."
"What?"
He smiled. "Your husband."
She blushed again and looked down at her hands. "Promise me we'll iron this out before the wedding, even if we have to go to a counselor."
"OK, I promise." He reached over and cupped her chin in his hand. "Sarah, I love you, and you love me. All the rest of this is crap. Marry me." His eyes searched her face. "Please."
Her mind was racing. Her other marriages were unmitigated disasters. This seemed too good to be true, which in her experience meant that it was. But she was scared to death that if she said no, he'd pull away, and that would break her heart.
"You do love me, don't you?" he asked. "You've never said so, you know."
She looked at his eager, expectant, slightly fearful face, and in a split second saw the last year play itself out before her mind's eye. A year ago she had been content but not happy, frustrated because her illness forced her out of a job she loved into something she was willing to settle for. He had shown her that there was still nothing she couldn't do, no reason to settle, that she could still make a difference.
It was all about risk. She had to decide, in this moment, whether making what they had together stronger was worth taking a chance on fouling it up. And it crystallized in her mind that she would gamble anything rather than lose him.
"I've been afraid to," she answered. "I thought—"
"You thought I'd run away? It's 'way too late for that."
"It is, you know," she murmured, leaning in to kiss him softly. "I've been in love with you since . . . " She thought a moment.
"Don't say since you met me, you thought I was a boorish jerk."
"That's true. You were." She laughed. "We hadn't been dating long though. It was before . . . "
"Before Thanksgiving?"
She nodded.
He laughed.
"What's so funny?" she asked, feigning a pout.
"I was saying the same thing to myself when I got back from that conference in November. I knew I was falling in love, and I was scared to death that you wouldn't understand, wouldn't want it, would run off and I'd never see you again." He shook his head. "Aren't we a pair, Toots?"
"Well," she answered softly, "for the record, I love you, Leo McGarry, and yes, I'd be honored to be your wife." She held out her hand for him to slip the ring on her finger.
He leaned in to kiss her gently. "Thank you, Sarah," he whispered. "I swear, I won't let you down." He held the door for her as they went out to join the others.
The anteroom was full of their friends—Toby, Diana, Josh, CJ, Donna, Ron and Margaret—as well as their companions in the box, several bottles of champagne, and one of sparkling cider.
"Well?" Abbey asked. "Did she say yes?"
The President eyed the couple expectantly. "Do I have to make this an Executive Order? Sarah?"
With her biggest smile, and a tearful face, she said, "I serve at the pleasure of the President."
"Thank God," Bartlet roared over the sound of applause. "I thought I was going to have to resort to shuttle diplomacy!" He reached down and hugged Sarah and kissed her on the cheek, then hugged his best friend. The two were surrounded by a crowd taking and giving hugs, admiring the ring, and congratulating the groom-to-be.
Abbey bent down and whispered in Sarah's ear, "Hang on tight. This might be a rough ride, but it'll be worth it in the end."
Sarah nodded and then made a face at her friend. "I'll talk to you later, you unindicted co-conspirator. Now, somebody pop those corks!"