Fanfic: Fortunate Son
Fortunate Son

Jane Harper

RATING: R for language
SYNOPSIS: Leo and Sarah get away for a long weekend.
ARCHIVE: Sure! Just let me know where. HTML version available, email me.
DISCLAIMER: I'm just a stowaway on the USS Sorkin. Please don't toss me overboard . . .

"Yes, sir, Mr. President," Leo McGarry said. "For anything short of total disaster, Josh is your guy until Tuesday morning, but I'll have my cell and my pager in case."

"You think Josh is up to this?" Bartlet asked. "It's only been what, seven months . . . ?"

"If he's not up to it now, he never will be. And I'll only be what, 2300 miles away!" He grinned mischievously. "After all, I could be taking her to Hawaii."

"And I thank you for that, Leo." He came out from behind the big mahogany desk to hug his friend. "Have a safe trip. And Happy New Year."

"The same to you, sir." The Chief of Staff picked up his briefcase, turned and left the Oval Office. Crossing the lobby, he found Josh in the bullpen. "Josh? You may be hearing from Markham's people about 939. I emailed you the figures we talked about yesterday, and Margaret should be sending you the draft of the FOIA revisions. I should be wheels-down in Tucson by 0300."

"Did you leave us your flight numbers?" the younger man asked.

"What flight numbers?" Leo responded. "I'm taking the stick myself this trip. My flight plan is already on file, I've got my weather reports, everything looks fine."

Josh's brow furrowed. "You sure you're not too tired to go straight through? Why don't you stop on the way?"

"Sure, Josh. I'll just tell Sarah we're spending a romantic evening in Memphis. We could go to Graceland!"

"Leo, come on. You're not 21 any more."

"Good thing, too; I was a jackass at 21."

"Leo!!" He looked with concern at his mentor. "You know what I mean. Have a safe trip."

"We will." McGarry sauntered out of the lobby, a little lightness already in his step.

"So where are we going already?" Sarah demanded.

"We're headed for the sunny southwest, to my place in Tucson."

"I didn't know you had a place in Tucson!"

"Well, I spent a rough few weeks down there a few years back, and the desert helped clear my head. I guess I fell in love with the place. I try to get down there once or twice every winter."

A look of alarm crossed her face. "I hope you have the tickets, you didn't give them to me."

"What tickets? I'm driving."

"You're driving? We're driving? We won't get there until next week! You said we had to catch a plane . . ."

"We do." His eyes twinkled. "Just be patient."

"Mr. McGarry?" the driver said. "We're here." She helped Sarah transfer from the passenger seat onto her wheelchair and got the bags out, then smiled at the two and said, "Have a good trip. I'll see you Monday night."

"You too, Catherine," Sarah said. "Happy New Year."

The two travelers turned to see an officious thirty-something fellow rush out to greet them.

"Mr. McGarry, we're so happy to see you again. You're all fueled and ready to go."

"Did you get the thing I asked you to find?" Leo asked.

"The lift? Yes sir."

"A lift?" Sarah asked.

"You didn't think I was going to load you off and on the plane, did you?" Leo smirked.

Sarah laughed. "And why not? It wouldn't be the first time you'd thrown me over your shoulder like Alley Oop . . ."

After Sarah got safely strapped into place in the four-seater, Leo climbed in beside her and started his final flight checks. Half an hour later, they were airborne and headed west-southwest.

"What time will we get in?" Sarah asked, settling back in her seat for the ride.

"Barring a strong headwind, we should be there well before morning."

"You're flying all night?" she squeaked, sitting up straight again.

"Yeah, what's your point?" he asked.

"If I'd known, I would have asked Abbey for a couple of amps of a hundred milligrams of caffeine, IV!"

"Pusher," he shot back, grinning.

She shrugged and threw up her hands in resignation.

"Besides, dinner's in that cooler behind my seat, and there are two thermoses of coffee down here." He pointed under the front edge of his seat.

Sarah shook her head then leaned back in her seat and laughed. "I haven't done anything this crazy since a couple of friends and I went to Altamont at the spur of the moment back in . . . what was it, '69?"

"Altamont?"

"Yeah, you remember, the free concert at that speedway outside San Francisco? The one where some kid got knifed because the Stones had hired Hell's Angels to provide security?"

"I must have been in law school then." He fell into a silent reverie for a moment, then shook his head. "If we had met back then we probably would have hated each other."

"I don't think so," she responded. "I fought against the war, not the warriors." After staring out the windows for a minute, she put her hand over on Leo's. "And I was a wild child then – who knows, I may have seduced you anyway!"

He grinned. "You were in college?"

"Yep, the University of Spoiled Children, majoring in dissent. Well, actually, in International Relations. Started out in student politics, wound up in the Moratorium office working nights." She laughed. "We knew we were being bugged, so whenever the phone rang we'd answer it, 'Vietnam Moratorium Committee, fuck Hoover!'"

He joined her in the laughter, and they flew on into the night, playing word games and sharing stories until he was beginning his landing routine . . .

. . . . and then all hell broke loose. Leo went through his entire military vocabulary of eloquent vulgarity in ten seconds, trying to keep control of the machine. With his peripheral vision, as he wrestled the plane to the ground, he saw Sarah, frozen, eyes wide as saucers.


Leo opened his eyes. Everything was dark; even the normal eerie glow of the instruments had gone. He was still strapped in, and when he reached down to open the buckles he winced. Gingerly, he leaned forward, pushing the yoke back off his lap, systematically flexing and relaxing to see what hurt. Reaching under his seat, he pulled out the fire extinguisher and the Mag-Lite. Then he turned to Sarah, shining the flashlight in her direction.

She was still strapped in as well, but leaning sideways into the broken door. Her eyes were closed and there was blood on her forehead, but she was breathing freely. He reached over to feel the pulse in her neck, then turned to survey the rest of the cabin.

Several of the instruments were smashed, including the GPS receiver. Remnants of their dinner were scattered everywhere. Turning around, he tried to reach his briefcase but couldn't; his right arm didn't seem to want to bend that way, and he winced and cursed in the attempt.

Finally he managed to get the door open on his side, and slide out onto the ground. He had managed to bring them down blind on a level patch of rock, but the landing gear were mangled and one of the propellers was bent; they weren't going anywhere. There was a nearly-full moon hanging low in the sky, giving the surroundings a ghostly glow. As he stood beside the wreckage he heard Sarah's voice, first weakly, then stronger.

"Leo? Where are you?"

"I'm over here," he called back, walking around what was left of the plane.

She reached up to wipe away the stuff that was in her eyes, and her hands came back red. "Oww!" she cried, pulling the gash back open in trying to clear her vision.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, "but we're done traveling for tonight."

"Where are we?"

"Beats the hell out of me, the GPS is dead. Last fix I had we were about 75 miles east-northeast of Tucson, so my best guess is that we're somewhere in the Coronado National Forest." He laughed out loud. "I guess I should have listened to the President when he was babbling about national parks and forests, I might know how to get us out of here."

She reached over to unfasten her restraint and open the door, then looked down the two-foot drop to the ground. "How am I gonna get out of here?" she asked.

Leo laughed again. "Alley Oop!" He walked over to her and held his hand up for her to wait, then opened the door behind her and tried to grab her folded wheelchair. It took both hands, and when he stretched out his right arm to pull, he lost the grip, and flinched, hard. "Shit!" he said, then turned toward Sarah. "Well, Toots, looks like I've got a busted wing."

"Come over here," she responded. "Let me lean on your shoulder." She turned to the side, dangled her legs out the door and slid down, holding on to the door frame with both hands. He turned around so he could support her with his good arm, and she managed to walk a few steps before she slid to the ground. He squatted down next to her while she sat upright, feeling the length of his arm, finding the break.

"Good news/bad news," she said. "It's the wrist. That's easy to splint and you won't have a big honking cast. Where's your briefcase?"

He walked back over to the plane and tossed things around the back until he found his well-worn leather satchel and brought it back to Sarah. "What's the bad news?" he asked.

"No handsprings for a couple of months."

"Well, there goes my future as an acrobat."

She rummaged through the briefcase until she found several thick stapled memos, pulling them out.

"Hey wait," he said, "that's classified . . ."

"Then what are you doing carrying it around? Besides, I'm not going to read it, I'm going to splint your wrist with it! Take off your socks."

"Take off my what?"

"Your socks, Leo. I need to be able to tie this up with something, and socks are pretty stretchy."

He started to sit down to slip his shoes off, but Sarah yelped, "Not there!" Instinctively, he jumped up and back, looking down at the ground. All he could see was a nondescript gray-green plant, about a foot long, hugging the ground.

"What??" he cried.

"That's jumping cactus. You would have had needles all over your butt. Watch." She pulled a scarf out of her pocket and flicked the plant with one end; it came back full of spines. "The needles have little hairs that protrude, and when the hairs are disturbed the needles are released."

"Are you channeling the President?" he asked, sitting down tenderly a foot or so from the ominous plant to take off his shoes and socks.

After Sarah was finished, Leo was a sight to behold, his right arm wrapped from fingertips to elbow in a tube of memos, socks tied around the tube at both ends, and the whole contraption suspended around his neck by what was once a tie. "I must look stupid," he said.

"So who's here to see?" she asked. With some difficulty, a lot of laughter and a modicum of what would, under other circumstances, have probably been considered foreplay, Sarah had managed to convince him that he was better off getting out of the smudged and wrinkled remnants of the suit he had been wearing on takeoff. Clad in Levi's that must have been ten years old, a tee, and a natty sweater, he looked like a different man. He certainly walked like a different man – or rather, the same gait that seemed a saunter in a tailored suit became a swagger in jeans and cowboy boots.

As the sun came up, the two of them were sitting next to the crippled plane, enjoying the view. "You may think I'm crazy," Sarah said quietly as she leaned up against his shoulder, "but this is almost nice. It's certainly the first time we've ever been this alone together!"

He laughed and kissed her on the forehead, holding her with his uninjured arm. "We're going to have to figure out how to get out of here, though." He looked at the surrounding buttes and the climbing sun.

"At least it's December and not July!" she responded, laughing. "I wouldn't want to wind up like some old movie cliché, me lying in the shadow of our little lean-to while you crawl on all fours across the desert looking for rescue. "

"Could be a lot worse. . ." His voice trailed off and his eyes fell out of focus for a moment, then he blinked and whatever he was seeing in his mind's eye had gone.

Sarah said nothing, only reached up and brushed his face with her hand.

He shook his head and pulled away, standing up to reach into the plane for his briefcase. He took out his cell phone and turned it on, hit speed-dial and waited. Nothing happened. Frowning, he dialed again, with the same result. "Damn, must be out of range."

"One sure way to find out – page yourself. That's a satellite pager, you should be reachable anywhere."

"What makes you think I know my pager number?" he grinned, sitting back down next to her.

"Give me that phone!" Shaking her head with a smile, Sarah paged him.

Nothing.

She paged again.

Nothing.

Looking over at Leo, she said, "Suddenly this isn't funny."

He pulled her closer to him. "Worst case scenario? I filed a flight plan to Tucson. If we don't get there, somebody will notice."

She put both her arms around his waist and closed her eyes; worried or not, after twenty-four hours without sleep the body starts to take over. Both of them, sitting in the warmth of the desert winter, exhausted, drifted off.

Josh punched in the number again and waited. And waited. And waited. Undaunted, he tried the pager number. And waited. And waited. And waited.

He sat briefly with his head in his hands, then sighed and picked up the phone again.

"Alicia, do you have a number for Tucson International Airport?"

Water peppering his face woke Leo up. It was starting to rain, hard. "Sarah?" he said, shaking her softly.

"Hmmmm??" she shifted a bit and snuggled more deeply into his shoulder.

"Sarah?" he repeated, a bit more loudly. "Wake up, Toots."

'Why?"

He moved over slightly so that her face wasn't shielded from the shower.

"Leo, did your mother ever tell you that you don't have the good sense to get out of the rain?" she grumbled.

"Yeah," he responded, pulling himself away to stand. He had to get Sarah back into the plane or she'd get soaked. "Put your arms around my neck," he directed her, and tried to stand her up. Instinctively, he put out his right arm to help balance her, and the pain made him gasp.

Hearing him, Sarah used what leverage she had to throw herself forward and landed on the floor between the seats. Climbing back in, Leo was able to help her up from the floor to the seat, and the two collapsed together against the one door that remained closed.

"You OK?" she asked, pulling herself upright.

"I'm getting too old for this," he answered.

Abbey Bartlet sat in the winter sun at Camp David, watching Charlie and Zoey chase each other in the snow like kids. Her expression was thoughtful, as if she was a million miles away; she didn't notice when her husband sat down in the chair next to her, didn't see him until he took her hand.

"Honey? You OK?" he asked.

"I don't know, Jed. Something isn't right."

The phone rang; it was Josh.

"Yes, Josh," the President said into the receiver.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but . . ." Lyman hesitated.

"What is it?"

"Sir, Leo's plane never arrived in Tucson."

"Sarah, how do you live with it?" Leo asked, digging through the battered cooler which had held their dinner the preceding evening. "Hah!" He gave a victory cry as he managed to free the liter-sized bottled waters from the corner where they had been lodged.

"Live with what?"

"The things that you can't do," he said. "I have to tell you, I'm feeling every day of fifty-five years old right now, and I don't like it."

"But Leo," she responded, "consider the alternative."

He tore the cover off one of the water bottles and opened it, handing it first to her. "Yeah. . ."

She took a long drink and handed the bottle back to him. "You remember the first night we spent together?"

"Yeah," he replied, smiling. "I didn't tell you this, but when I picked you up I pulled something in my shoulder and couldn't turn my head that direction for a week."

Sarah started to laugh, but the laugh dissolved into tears as she looked out the open door into the storm. Weary and frightened, she began to sob.

"It'll be OK," he said, pulling her toward him. "We'll be OK."

President Josiah Bartlet was on a tear, his voice rolling down like the thunder from Mt. Sinai. "I don't care, Governor! My Chief of Staff's plane went down somewhere in the Coronado National Forest, and I want him found!"

"Jed, calm down," Abbey insisted. "No sense in starting a war with Arizona." She paced over to the other side of the living room and back again. "God, I wish Leo were here."

"If Leo were here," the President said, "none of this would be necessary!" He pushed another button on the phone. "Josh, you still there?"

"Yes, sir." Lyman's voice came out of the speaker.

"I swear, when we get him back, I'm going to have Leo's pilot's license revoked."

"I'm not sure you can do that, sir," Josh replied.

"The FAA works for me, Josh. Is Sam with Mallory?"

"They're both here, Mr. President."

"Let me talk to Mallory."

'Yes, sir?" She sounded very young and very afraid.

"Mallory, we'll find him. Listen, you and Sam get packed, I'm going to call Andrews and have them get you on the first flight out to Tucson. I'll be in touch on the way if anything happens."

"Yes, Mr. President. Sam has his cell, please call us if there is any news, any news at all."

Bartlet paused a minute, then continued. "Josh?"

"Yes sir?"

"You're going to be getting a call from Governor Larchman, wanting to know if there is anything he can do to help. Say yes."

It had stopped raining before sunset, but the leftover cloud cover had painted the sky in breathtaking colors. Sarah and Leo had managed to get her wheelchair out of the plane, and she was safely bundled onto it while he was seated on a rock a few inches away.

"I'm cold," she said.

"I'm sorry," he responded. "I'm a failure as a Boy Scout, I can't build a fire without a fire. If I hadn't quit smoking I could have us warmed up by now."

Sarah scowled. "With your job, if you hadn't quit smoking you'd be dead by now. I'd rather have you alive and be cold."

"I just can't help remembering . . . I sure couldn't survive now what I went through then."

She leaned forward and took his hand. "Then, you were frightened for your life, and fear is a great energizer. Nobody is waiting for us out there with a gun, or worse. And you weren't dragging a crippled woman around with you." Catching and holding his eyes with hers, she said, "Stop beating yourself up for having lived this long. You don't need to apologize for having made it home."

He said nothing, but blinked rapidly a few times and stared out at the buttes reflected in the moonlight.

Sarah took Leo in her arms and began to sing softly.

"'Twas down by the glen-side, I met an old woman
She was picking young nettles and she scarce saw me coming
I listened awhile to the song she was humming
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men.

"'Tis fifty long years since I saw the moon beaming
On strong manly forms and their eyes with hope gleaming
I see them again, sure, in all my daydreaming
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men.

"Some died on the glen-side, some died near a stranger
And wise men have told us that their cause was a failure
They fought for old Ireland and they never feared danger
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men."


Leo sat quietly waiting for her to finish, and for several minutes afterward. He pulled away, replacing his arm around her shoulders, pulling her as close as he could. With a tiny break in his voice, he murmured, "Where did a nice Jewish girl learn an anthem to Irish freedom?"

"I told you, the Irish are one of the ten lost tribes. Besides, I'm an honorary leprechaun."

Suddenly, he sat up straight and his hand flew to her face, lightly brushing her lips. "Shhhh . . ."

"I don't hear anything but the coyotes."

"Hush!" He froze as the rhythmic beat of rotors broke the air, followed by a blinding light. His eyes fought to focus on the three approaching figures, trotting smartly in their direction.

"Mr. McGarry?"

"Yeah?" he responded, standing up and stepping between the newcomers and Sarah's chair.

A young woman in camouflage fatigues jogged up to where Leo was waiting. "I'm Warrant Officer Janice Coleman of the Arizona National Guard. Sir, we're here to take you to Tucson."

"Daddy?" Mallory's voice came out of the light and the noise. "Dad!" she ran up to Leo and threw her arms around him, then jumped back as she felt the makeshift cast on his arm. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, baby, I'm fine. We're OK. My wrist got broken in the crash." He hugged his daughter again, hard.

Sam came directly over to Sarah. "You all right?"

She looked around at the three people who had become her family and nodded. "I am now."

"Yes, Mr. President, we're just fine," Leo said into the phone. "But we were very glad to see that helicopter! I was running out of magic tricks to keep Sarah entertained. . . ."

He fell silent for a moment, as he fended Sarah's playful slap off with his uninjured arm.

"No sir, we're going to stay here until Monday. I promised her a weekend away, and we're going to have a weekend away. Sounds like Josh is doing an excellent job. I'll see you Tuesday morning, sir."

He switched the phone off and put it back in his briefcase. "C'mon, I need to rest up from all this peace and quiet."