Author's Notes: More adventures of Leo and Jed. I'm posting as fast as I can.
Feedback: is divine.




Jed walks into my room at half past nine with a six pack of Coca-Cola and his chess set. The dorm is pretty quiet; lights out is at ten.

"So, last night, when you beat me at chess - "

"Four times," I interrupt.

"Four times," he continues. "I was just being nice, because I wanted you to like me. I didn't want you to think I'd be kicking your ass at chess all the time."

"I could have told you that from looking at you," I say, grinning at him.

"I'm just going to ignore that comment and proceed with the ass-kicking," Jed says, and hands me a soda.

An hour later, I've beaten him twice and he's almost sulking. I'm doing my best to keep a straight face as I ask if he wants to play again.

"No, no. I've had enough," Jed mumbles. I don't think he's ever lost at chess until now.

"Okay, well, what else do you have planned for the evening?" I ask.

"We could go see a movie," Jed perks up.

"Yeah, and we could get thrown out of Nation for leaving the dorm after lights out," I retort.

"Oh, come on, Leo. You like Hitchcock?"

"Of course. But it's late for a movie," I answer. But I can tell Jed won't be turned down.

"There's a double feature in town," Jed smiles. "Rear Window and Dial M for Murder. If we leave now we'll make it in time for Dial M."

I hesitate. I don't have any pocket money.

"Leo, come on! When's the last time you went to the movies?"

"Jed," I start. A look of realization passes over his face.

"Oh, come on. It'll be my treat," he says. "If you're good I'll buy you some Milk Duds."

"Shut up," I say, and grab my shoes.

*********************************************************


It's a nice night out, and I tell Leo that as we walk through town to the movie theatre. There aren't too many people out, and I really hope that Nation staff decided to stay in for the night, because I don't think Leo would ever forgive me if we got kicked out.

"So, what do you do in Manchester, anyway? From my understanding there's really not a lot that goes on," Leo says.

"Well, last week when I was home my brother locked me in a steamer trunk," I say.

"You have a brother?"

"Yeah, an older one. Jonathan Paul Bartlet, junior. He hates me, and I don't really care for him either," I say. "You have a sister, right?"

"I have two younger sisters," Leo says, and his face lights up as he talks. "Josephine and Elizabeth. Elizabeth just turned eight, and Josie is thirteen. They're a handful, and I'm sure they think I don't like them. But I actually enjoy being their big brother. At least for now, anyway. As soon as they start dating, I'm sure things will change."

"My brother is going to be a senior this year, and he dates plenty. The more he dates, the more time I have in the house without him," I say.

"I don't really like being in the house by myself," Leo says. "We're living with my mom's older sister right now. Mom works like 28 hours a day at a shoe factory, and I miss her. Aunt Frances is something of an old maid I guess, so she's not the most upbeat person in Chicago. I like having Josie and Elizabeth around, even if all they do is annoy me."

"Do you miss Boston?"

"I miss Boston a lot. I had friends there. I miss my old school. We had a debate team at my old school, you know. I would have been captain this fall. People lived in fear of me," Leo says.

"We have debate at our school," I say. "Though we really don't debate anything exciting. The headmaster at our school is a jackass."

"You go to private school?"

"Yeah. My dad is the headmaster," I sigh. Leo laughs.

"You just can't escape, can you?"

Apparently not. I just watched my dad and some other people walk out of a restaurant. I grab Leo's t-shirt and pull him in between two stores.

"Jed, what the-"

"Shh! I just saw my dad walk out of that restaurant. If he sees me I'll be on a plane back to Manchester by dawn," I whisper.

The group of men walks past us and continues down the street, back towards campus. I exhale the breath I've been holding. I crane my neck to make sure my father was with them. I can just barely make out his tall figure as the group continues down the street.

"And who's bright idea was it to come out for a movie?" Leo smirks at me.

"Shut up," I say, and step back out onto the street.

********************************************************


It's been so long since I've been in a movie theatre. In fact, I haven't been to one since before my dad died. Jed pays for my ticket and we climb the stairs to sit in the balcony.

"This is a nice place," I whisper.

"Yeah," he agrees as we sit down at the back of the balcony.

I think Jed is getting a kick out me watching this movie. It's obvious he's seen it more than once. He seems like the type that would blow all his allowance seeing the same movie twelve times.

He's laughing at me now. I literally gasp out loud as Grace Kelly tries to fight off her assailant. Quite the intense scene.

There aren't many people in theatre. I guess it's because it's a weeknight. It's also pretty late. I glance around the balcony and notice we're the only white people up here.

"Jed," I whisper.

"Shh," he whispers back.

"Jed, is this balcony for blacks only?"

"Of course it is, you idiot. Why do you think I sat up here?"

"Don't you think they don't want us up here?"

"No, Leo. I think they think that we're demonstrating that we don't believe separate but equal is equal at all. And do you really think anyone is paying attention to two white boys at midnight on Tuesday? They're watching the movie. Watch the movie, Leo," he says.

Jed Bartlet is a cocky bastard. He really is.


The movie ends and we sit in the balcony until it clears out. No one gives us so much as a second glance. Jed gets up, and I follow him out of the theatre.

"See, Leo? You're still in one piece," he laughs as we start our walk back to campus.

"There's something wrong with you, my friend," I say. Jed smiles.

"So I've heard," he replies.

*********************************************************



Leo and I manage to sneak back into the dorm with few problems. I knocked over a trashcan and he punched me in the arm. Then he dropped his keys as we were furtively making our way up the stairs; effectively blowing our, you know, secret agent thing.

"Nice going," I say as we enter my room.

"You're no James Bond yourself," Leo replies and plops down onto my bed.

"James Bond? You've actually read Ian Fleming? I'm impressed, Leo. I don't picture you venturing too far away from your textbooks," I smirk.

"Well, I have. I also know how to throw a baseball and a football, but don't die of shock on me over there," Leo smirks.

"I bet your sisters kick your ass at football," I smile.

"Josie really is a force to be reckoned with. None of the boys in the neighborhood ever give her any crap."

"And that's certainly not because they're afraid of her older brother," I say, trying to maintain a straight face.

"I've been in my share of fights, you geek. I can hold my own," Leo says.

"It's the Irish blood," I say, laughing.

"Let's go, pretty boy. I'll take you right now," he says, getting off my bed.

Before I can make a witty comeback, he's wrestled me to the floor and is holding me in a headlock.

"Point taken," I whimper.

**************************************************


I finally turned in last night around two. Breakfast passed slowly; I was stuck in the serving line again. Jed made a point of avoiding the oatmeal I so graciously scraped out of the pan for him. He ended up wearing some of it.

Anyway, we're on our morning break after Missouri finally concluded his sermon on highway funding. Jed is bouncing off the walls next to me. We're up next.

The delegates from California have the floor to bring up the voting age. Both of them are going to be seniors in high school this fall, and I guess they're pretty anxious about turning eighteen and being able to vote. The next presidential election isn't for three years, but I guess they're pretty antsy about the gubernatorial race or something. Or maybe this was the only thing they could come up with to bring to the floor.

They ramble on and on. Don't get me wrong; I think that this is a very important topic and should definitely be discussed. However, this topic is going to segue into something way more controversial in about thirty seconds.

I raise my hand to speak and the president recognizes the delegate from Illinois. I look at Jed, who is expecting me to yield the floor to him. I just can't do it. He's gonna get enough crap for being seen with me the next couple of days. And the last thing he needs is to get in more trouble with his father right now. Jed looks at me expectantly, and I drop my eyes and take a deep breath.

"I agree with the delegate from California," I say, and glance around the room. "However, I don't think new groups deserve the right to vote until we make sure that everyone who actually is enfranchised right now gets their turn in line at the ballot box." I can't pause for fear of losing the floor.

"Blacks in this country are being denied the right to vote. Things like poll taxes and literacy tests are standing in their way. Some poor white country bumpkin walks into a poll in Arkansas and they hand him the Bible to read. A black man walks in, and they'll hand him Chaucer or Shakespeare. This practice is disgusting, just like the entire separate but equal policy, and if this country really wants to make a difference in the world, it needs to start at home," I take a quick breath which catches in my throat. I have to cough, and consequently lose the floor to Alabama.

"You're saying we should let people who can't read vote anyway? Just because they're black? That doesn't sound equal to me either, Mr. Delegate," Alabama is staring me down. Screw Roberts Rules.

"But it's equal to give him a different literacy test? The Bible is the most commonly read book on the planet. Many people learn to read by the Bible. And if you can't read, most people commit passages of the Bible to memory. A white man could easily walk in and recite the twenty-third Psalm while looking at the first book of John and poll officials would let him walk right on by," I say. The president notifies me that I'm out of order. I politely ignore him. "How many black men do you know that read Chaucer on a regular basis?"

"I don't know any black men, Mr. Delegate," Alabama snaps back.

"Do you know why blacks can't read Chaucer? Because they can't go to school. Because if they actually go to school, the standards are so much lower than white education that it's barely an education at all. How is separate but equal right when things aren't even equal to begin with?" The president notifies me that I'm out of order again.

"Separate is the only thing that matters," Alabama says. Jed stands up. God help us.

"These people were born in the United States, were they not?" Jed asks, making his way to the aisle of the lecture hall. "And you were born in the United States, were you not?"

"It doesn't matter where you were born, it's where you come from that matters," Alabama says.

"So you're saying because his ancestors come from Ireland, that makes him less American?" Jed asks, pointing up at me.

"No," Alabama says, and he's moved out into the aisle too.

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that these people are dirty, they're stupid, and they don't deserve the right to vote. I'm saying we should put them on a boat and send them all back to the jungle," Alabama spits. And before I can do anything, Jed has taken a swing at him.

Jesus.

Alabama swings back, and catches Jed under the chin. He must have bitten his tongue, because he's bleeding all over the place. He throws another punch and bloodies Alabama's nose. The whole room has erupted into screaming and I'm running down the steps to push them apart.

Though before I can get all the way down the stairs, someone has tripped me and I'm falling. I catch myself with my left arm, which makes an interesting cracking sound as I land. A wave of nausea washes over me as I stand up and turn to look at the guy who tripped me. A delegate from Arkansas, who promptly takes a swing at me. I duck, and throw him off his balance. I'm pushing my way through the circle of people surrounding Jed and Alabama, but I can't push through. My left arm really hurts now, right above the wrist, and I think I might have broken it. Before I know what's happening, I hear an adult male shouting and breaking up the fight.

As the crowd breaks up, I can finally see Jed. His hair is disheveled, his eye is swollen, and he's bleeding all over his dress clothes. It would be almost humorous if he didn't look as scared as he does. And then I realize why.

The adult male is Jed's dad, and we're in major trouble.

************************************************


My heart is in my throat as I realize the person who has just pulled me off that racist bastard is my father. This is the same father who didn't want segregation discussed for this very reason. I look at him out of my right eye, the one not swollen shut, and he looks angrier than I've ever seen him. Angrier than the time I tied Jon's shoelaces together during chapel and he tripped as he got up, knocking over the minister, who happens to be eighty-three years old.

I can't look at Dad, and I find myself frantically scanning the crowd for Leo. I finally see him, and I assume the look on his face mirrors my own. He's holding on to his left wrist like he's hurt himself. I hope Dad puts the reaming that's about to ensue on hold long enough for Leo to go the emergency room.

"Morning session is over," Dad says, his tone positively icy. "Lunch will be served at normal time."

The room empties out in a hurry, Alabama shooting me threatening glares as he picks up his notebook and walks away. Another adult is in the room now, and stops him before he can get out of the room. He won't be back for afternoon session.

Though, from the look on Dad's face, we won't be either. He looks at me again and I want to disappear into the floor.

"I'm going to call the damn paramedics. Don't even think about moving, Josiah," he says, and walks out of the room. As soon as he's out of earshot I get up and rush over to Leo.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Leo says. "That's not the way to get your point across, Jed."

"Neither is insulting people, Leo. I can't believe what he said, in front of all these people," I manage, my mouth still bleeding.

"A lot of these people share his opinion. And there's gonna be no debate now, because your dad is going to send us home."

"He won't send us home, Leo. We're both gonna be in the hospital for the next two weeks anyway," I say, trying to get him to laugh.

"Jed, I think I'm going to be sick," he says, sitting down on the steps. I scramble for a trashcan and make it back just as Leo begins to empty the contents of his stomach. I hold the can in front of him and put my hand on his shoulder. Luckily he didn't eat much breakfast.

"I think I broke my arm," he mumbles into the can, and he sounds much more like a sixteen-year-old kid than I've heard since I met him.

"It's okay. Dad's calling the paramedics. We'll get you fixed up in no time," I say, trying to be reassuring. I feel like such an idiot. I've ruined our master plan. Our great debate is gone now, and we're both going home.

I feel like I've known him forever, but at the same time I feel like I'm just starting to get through the Leo McGarry persona and seeing the real person. Dad can't send us home now.