Author's Notes: More Leo, more Jed. Apparently this is alternate universe now, because ABS claims they weren't friends until 11 years prior to 'Bartlet for America.' That's fine, but to me, this makes more sense.

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The breeze is cool on my bare chest as I continue to stare at the ceiling. I have no idea how long I've been lying here. Leo's been gone for hours. He didn't even really say where he was going. Just said he had a few things he'd like to do, and he'd be back soon. I've been to Boston plenty of times, but Leo's back in his element. I hope he doesn't take to disappearing all summer.

Mr. Landingham's apartment is pretty roomy for being above a shoe store. I can see the harbor from where I'm lying on the sofa. I can hear drunks carousing in the street through the open window. I can hear Leo. Yelling up at me. I sigh loudly and make my way to the window.

"Hey, Jed!" Leo shouts up. He's holding a bottle, and there are a couple of really tall guys with him.

"Yes, Leopold," I reply, reaching into the pocket of my shorts for my cigarettes.

"You gotta come on down and meet these fellas," he says, though if I weren't so good at interpreting drunk Leospeak, I surely wouldn't have had any idea what he said.

"Okay, Leo," I say. I strike a match and light up as I descend the stairs and walk through Mr. Landingham's store.

The guys Leo are with are sort of standing back behind him, whispering amongst themselves. It's obvious they've been drinking, but it's been a while since Leo drank with Boston boys. He's considerably sloppier.

I step into the street in my bare feet, and Leo's at my side in a beat, reaching for my cigarette. I pass it to him and he takes a long drag. He's pretty well gone. If Leo wants to smoke something, he usually swipes one of my cigars.

He passes the cigarette back to me and wipes his hand on the front of his unbuttoned shirt.

"Jed, this is Aidan Kelly and Tom McLarty. We were in grade school together," Leo says. He grins in the direction of the pair, who nod in my direction. It's obvious that the two of them don't think much of Leo, and it bothers me. "Aidan used to take my milk money. He used to do all sorts of mean stuff." Leo takes another big swallow of what smells from here like scotch.

"Yeah, well. You weren't much of a fighter, Leo," one of them mutters. It's dark, and I can't see which one is talking.

"Well, it was real nice to meet you fellas. Whaddya say we turn in Leo? You look pretty tired," I say.

"I'm not tired, Jed. I'm drunk," he says, and settles none too gracefully onto the curb. The pair are laughing outright now, and I'm starting to lose my temper.

"You stop by anytime, Leo. It's always a pleasure to see you," one of them says, and they begin to quickly walk off, laughing between sentences. I stand and watch them as Leo begins to throw up all the alcohol that's sitting on his stomach. The two pass under a street light, and I realize they've taken his wallet.

"Leo, stay put," I say, and set off after them. We're about a block away when I catch them.

"Hey, fellas. How about you give me the wallet back and I don't say anything to Leo?"

"Hey, sweetheart. How about you turn around and go take care of the lush?"

We're staring each other down. I don't have a chance in a fight, so I try to keep my cool.

"Just give me the wallet back," I say. One of them makes a move like he's going to grab me, when an older man walks around the corner. The wallet quickly disappears from sight.

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" The man asks.

"No, sir. I was just showing these two the wallet my sister gave me for my birthday," I quickly say, before the other two have a chance to speak. They both glare at me.

"Yeah, it's a nice one," one of them says, handing me the beat-up brown leather wallet back. "See ya 'round."

The older man nods at me and continues on his way as Leo's two classmates turn and walk away. I let out a large sigh and turn around. I open the wallet to find it empty. If there was any money in it after tonight's drinking spree, the two of them must have taken it. I look up and see Leo, leaned over and gazing fixedly at a puddle in the street. I take my own wallet out and slip a twenty dollar bill into Leo's.

"Come on, Leo," I say, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I wanted nothing more than to be like those two when we were in fourth grade," Leo mumbles as I steer him into the door of the shoe store. "What a couple of jackasses they turned out to be."

"That's right, Leo. A couple of jackasses," I murmur. It gets harder and harder to help him up the stairs. It gets harder and harder to see him lose himself in a glass all the time. He's so smart. He's got so much to accomplish.

We make it up the stairs and he makes his way over to his cot. I watch as he tries to figure out what to do with the bottle while he takes his shirt off. He stands there for a minute before dissolving into tears.

"Leo!" I say, taken aback. He must be completely gone. I take the bottle out of his hand and he shrinks against the cot. "Leo, what's wrong? It's all right, man. Just take a deep breath."

He looks up at me, tears flowing freely, and inhales sharply.

"I'm going to end up like my father, Jed. Are you still going to be my best friend when I cheat on my wife and beat my daughters?"

I can't help the lump in my throat. Maybe it was a bad idea to bring Leo back to Boston. There are so many painful memories for him here.

"Leo, you can't possibly end up like your father. There's too much good in you. It won't happen. I won't let it," I say, trying to calm him down. He shrugs his shirt off and curls up on the cot. I kneel on the floor next to him and try to calm him, but he's crying into his pillow and won't look at me. I stay there until he's cried himself to sleep, then I resume my previous position on the sofa.

He looks perfectly innocent when he sleeps. The lines in his face disappear and his shoulders, normally drawn up in tension, relax along with the rest of him. I look at him a minute longer before I start to cry. I turn over and look out the window, not bothering to wipe the tears now wetting my face.

I won't let him end up like his father. I'll take care of him, whether he likes it or not.

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

I wake up alone in the apartment. The sunlight coming in through the window is almost blinding, and it feels like my head might split from this headache. According to the clock on the wall it's almost noon, and I groan. Jed's probably been down at the office for hours already. I force myself up off the cot, and stand in the middle of the room for a minute, surveying any damage I might have done last night. Everything looks fine, save an empty bottle sitting next to the sink. I cross the room and pick up the bottle to verify that it's empty.

I had pints in a pub last night with the guys, so I imagine I wouldn't have finished this bottle last night. Jed wisely emptied it for me, right down the drain. What the hell happened last night? I don't even remember getting back over here.

I'm sure it was Jed to the rescue. It's no small wonder that he still calls me his best friend. I wouldn't be able to handle me ... day after day after day.



I come down the stairs and step into the store after showering and shaving. The store seems to be in lunch hour lull, and Mr. Landingham is sitting behind the counter, changing the price tags on some boxes.

"Good morning, Mr. Landingham," I say, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

"More like afternoon, son," he says, without looking up. "And I told you two when you got here, you can call me Ed."

"Mr. Landingham always tells us to call him Henry, too," I smile.

"Yes, I know. And it never works," he says, looking up at me. "Jed said he was going to see if there was anything for him to do at the office. He's probably still down there, Leo. The boy will work himself to death."

"Anything you need help with around here?"

"I'm changing the prices on these now, so you two can shelve them tonight after closing. You two are welcome to come out to Quincy for dinner if you like," he smiles.

"Well, thank you, sir. I'll check with Jed and see what his plans are," I say, patting my back pocket to make sure I have my wallet. "I'm off to the office."

"All right. Have a good day, son," he says, and turns back to his boxes.

"Same to you, sir," I smile, and I'm off.



It's about six blocks to the Kennedy office from Mr. Landingham's store. Boston is a great city. I don't mind at all walking from place to place. I could drive, but I feel more a part of the city by being a pedestrian. I try to take in every sight and sound, and pretty soon I'm in a daze. I hardly realize it when I turn the corner to the storefront where the office is located.

Jed is up on a scaffold, trying to hang a sign. From the looks of it he's been up there for a while. There are nails all over the ground under him, and as I get closer I can hear Jed cursing under his breath. I try not to laugh and stand watching him for a few minutes. He finally gets the sign to stay up and backs up on the platform to get a better look.

"I think it's crooked," I say. Jed turns an icy gaze on me.

"You wanna get up here and straighten it out, half pint?" I laugh and bend down to pick up the nails. Jed climbs down the scaffold and leans against the window as I finish gathering the nails. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Pretty stupid," I mutter, not looking up. "Was it bad?"

"No, you weren't too bad. You introduced me to a couple of your friends and I helped you upstairs," he says, and I know he's lying. It must be worse than normal, because he can't even keep eye contact.

"Okay," I say. He'll tell me eventually. Probably at the worst time possible. But that's Jed. And that's why I love him.

"You want to get something to eat? This was all they had for us to do today," he says, gesturing up at the sign. "They say they'll have envelopes and stuff for us to do tomorrow. Maybe phone calls."

"Okay," I say. "Mr. Landingham invited us out to Quincy for dinner. I could show you the old house and stuff."

"You sure you want to go all the way out there?" Jed sounds sort of unsure.

"Jed, it's like a ten minute car ride. Did you have other plans?"

"No, no. Whatever you wanna do, Leo. That's fine," he says.

"Okay," I say. He's acting weird. "Let's go to the deli."





After lunch we walked around the city. Jed dragged me into a couple bookstores. His life's mission has been to find a copy of the United States Constitution in Latin. You'd think, with all the time he's spent looking for it, he might just sit down and do it himself. I better not suggest that, or I'll be by myself for two weeks while he sits around with a legal pad.

He's showering as I sit here contemplating my certain doom in our chess game. I enjoyed the days when I could beat him with little or no effort. Jed's definitely improved; thinks out his strategy, takes more time. He's grown a lot since I met him. Slowly but surely, he's thinking before he speaks. Which has saved us more trouble than I care to acknowledge.

Although, I don't know where I get off complaining about Jed's manners. He's right on target with his comebacks and quips almost all the time. He can piss people off and have his wits about him to defend himself. I only piss people off when I'm drunk. Otherwise I don't say much. Not unless I'm defending the Mouth. When Jed has to defend me, I can't thank him until I'm sober.

Take last night, for example. I don't know what happened. I was in Kelly's Pub with some guys I went to elementary school with. Aidan Kelly was there; his dad owns the place. Our fathers were boyhood friends. However, the two of us never got along. I imagine I tried to be civil last night, because, you know, they were buying me drinks. Somehow, either Jed came looking for me, or I took the guys back over to Landingham's.

I left the apartment last night with sixteen dollars in my wallet.

When I pulled my wallet out to pay for my lunch today, there was a crisp twenty dollar bill replacing the rumpled fives and ones. Which leads me to the conclusion that someone tried to make off with my money. I either gambled it away or someone picked my pocket. Not only is Jed protecting me from getting killed all the time, but now he's literally paying for my mistakes.

I don't know whether to kiss him or knock his head off.



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

Dinner at the Boston Landinghams' house is not unlike dinner at the Manchester Landinghams' house. The Landingham brothers both have impeccable taste in women, for certain. Mrs. Alice Landingham is every bit as witty and charming as Mrs. Delores Landingham. The Boston Landinghams don't have any children of their own. However, Mrs. Alice Landingham teaches high school English Literature, and knows just how to make recently graduated high school students laugh.

After dinner, Mr. Landingham offers us a drink. I accept, mostly because I know Leo will want one. However, he declines, even after Mr. Landingham tells us how scotch will keep you virile. Leo laughs and politely declines again. I accept the drink, which is really quite good. It's good scotch, not the crap Leo pays for with change he's found at the bottom of the laundry.

This is social scotch. Scotch that tastes good. Not the scotch that is consumed as quickly as possible; so quickly that it matters not what it tastes like.

Leo is eyeing my glass. It seems he's exerting Herculean effort not to snatch it right out of my hand.

I finish the drink, and before Mr. Landingham can start telling war stories, I beg off. We have to be at the office early, and Leo still wants to show me some sights.

I wince as I realize the real reason is Leo is about two seconds from asking for a drink. I can't go through dragging him up the stairs again. Not tonight.

I finish the scotch and thank Mr. Landingham for having us. Mrs. Landingham appears as we're leaving and hands us each a plate of food before pecking our cheeks. She tells us not to get into too much trouble in the city. We thank her and make our way to Leo's car.

"So, what do you want to see first?" He says, looking considerably calmer since we left the house.

"Let's go see the house," I say, leaning back into the seat. The car, after several attempts and several muttered curses from Leo, roars to life. I don't know why I'm so proud of him right now. It's not like he's an alcoholic or anything.

I sigh outloud.

"What?" Leo's watching the road, but his brow is furrowed. He knows something's up.

"Nothing. I'm just ... I don't know. Tired I guess."

"We're almost there," he says. I wonder how he'll react when we pull up to the old place.

This is a nice neighborhood. Nicer than I expected, anyway. I assume his father drank himself into debt before conveniently killing himself off and leaving his family with nothing. I would never say that out loud to Leo. Leo doesn't like to talk about money. And he doesn't like to talk about his father's lack of wisdom in dealing with money. He doesn't really like to talk about his father at all.

He stops the car across the street from a two-story house. There's a garage sort of next to the house, and the whole yard is probably shaded during the day. I try to picture a little Leo running around outside during the summer. The only picture I get is a sandy-haired little scamp reading underneath a tree, glancing up every now and again to check on his younger sister.

Leo's just sitting there, gripping the steering wheel. I can't even fathom what's running through his mind right now.

"I taught Josie how to throw a curve ball over there," Leo says, the faintest of smiles playing at the corners of his mouth. He points to a park further up the street. "She was never afraid of anything."

There's the picture I was trying for. Fiery little Josie McGarry, telling her older brother not to baby her. And Leo, trying not to laugh as she takes the baseball from him.

He opens the car door and I follow suit. We stop and lean back against the hood, and he points up to a window at the side of the house.

"That was my room. I had my own room. Josie hated that," he chuckles. "I had a rocking chair in my room. When Lizzie was a baby, Mama would come in and rock her to sleep so she wouldn't wake Josie. She knew I wouldn't mind. I even sent Mom back to bed sometimes and would fall asleep in the rocking chair with Lizzie. I always wanted Mom to sleep when she could, she needed the energy to put up with -" He stopped abruptly. "I was only eight then, when Lizzie was first born. And I was already more of a gentleman than my father."

I don't know what to say. I never do when Leo brings up his dad.

"Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if Dad wasn't the way he was. If he were still alive, and sober, and making money instead of squandering it. I wonder if we'd still be living in this same house. Do you think you and I would have ever met, Jed?"

"Yeah, I think so, Leo. You would have kicked just as much ass here as you did in Illinois. You would have been a Massachusetts delegate to Nation. We would have met and gotten into the same amount of trouble, I think."

"What if I weren't as idealistic? I bet if my dad were still around, I wouldn't care so much about segregation or anything like that. Because my dad never cared. I would be just like my dad, Jed. I would have been one of the guys in the cafeteria that day trying to get you to shut up."

"Leo, you have too much of your mother in you. Your mother is full of compassion and pride and love. Your mother would have seen to it that you cared about things like segregation. Kate McGarry wouldn't let an ill-prepared son out into the world. With your dad or without him."

"What if I didn't listen to her? What if I just mindlessly fell into the same trap my father did? Apathy, Jed. I think apathy killed him more than anything."

"You couldn't not listen to her, Leo. You're too much like her."

"I don't know. Sometimes I just wonder ..."

"Yeah."

Leo starts walking up the street and I follow him. He gazes up at the window to the room that used to be his. I don't follow his gaze as it moves to rest on the garage. The garage where his father shot himself in the head. Leo looks back after a minute, and he looks like he wants to say something. After a minute, he doesn't. We're still walking up the street.

We've gone a couple blocks from the car and a school building comes into focus.

"There it is," Leo says. "Washington Grade School. The building where I learned to read and write, and keep my mouth shut."

"They taught you to keep your mouth shut in grade school? And here I was going to the wrong place all along," I say and trail off. Leo won't smile.

"St. Luke's is a few more blocks away. I don't really feel like walking. You want to go?"

"No, no. It's okay. You wanna head back to town?"

"Yeah," he says, and turns around. I walk a couple steps behind him. His shoulders are slumped, his head is sort of hung. He looks like he's carrying a heavy load on his back.

"Leo, nothing will change what has happened to you. It's shaped who you are. And who you are is a brilliant guy with plenty of love to give. And you're my best friend, and I'm gonna watch out for you. No matter what you try and pull," I say.

"Thanks, Jed," he answers, not turning back.



We get back to town and park the car back behind the store. Leo's cheered up considerably, and I can't help but wonder how long it's been since he's gone to bed sober.

He turns the lights on in the store as we enter, and locks the door behind him. I turn on the radio, and we begin putting the boxes up on the shelves for Mr. Landingham. Elvis is singing through the store, and Leo's laughing, and I'm so proud of him. And I really don't know why.