Title: The Immediate Context of History
Author: Marcia Plome
Fandom: The West Wing
Characters: Jed/Leo, Jed/Abbey
Rating: M for language, allusions to a m/m relationship, and violent references
Disclaimer: The West Wing, its characters and storylines are the sole property of Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, Warner Bros. and NBC Television. What follows is for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement is intended.
Spoilers: Major for events seen in flashback during "An Khe"
Summary: Pre-administration, Jed rushes to Leo's side as he recovers from injuries resulting from being shot down and the aftermath.
Warnings: Angst, very major angst. Slash, but well within an M rating.
Archive: Absolutely, just let me know.

Leo relaxed as the voices stopped. They'd moved him this time, but no one had hurt him on purpose, he was clear on that much at least. He attempted to stretch his hand out, to try to get some idea by feel of his new surroundings. He managed to move less than an inch before his attempts were abruptly stopped. Confused, he tried again, finding that he was tied down somehow. Any sense of relief he'd briefly entertained when the voices stopped without another interrogation session was immediately quashed by this realization. It was bad enough that they were going to question him, but tying him up first implied methods he hadn't wanted to contemplate. Leo gave in to a moment of visceral terror and fought hard against whatever had him tied down.

Jed paced a little, cataloging Dr. Hester's latest comments in the mental file he was keeping, trying to keep his expectations realistic based on the information he had. A small movement at Leo's side caught his eye. Leo was clenching and relaxing his fist in a habit Jed knew from long acquaintance. Just as suddenly as he'd started, he stopped, and this time, Jed thought the stillness was one of waiting, rather than the lapses into unconsciousness he'd seen the last few times. Jed stopped his pacing and was still too, all but holding his breath. Maybe this time, Leo would wake up, fully conscious and aware of his surroundings. Jed rather expected to hear him start with his name, rank, and serial number again, but he stayed silent and waited. He didn't have to wait long, but Leo's primal yell was a far cry from the litany he'd clung to earlier. Jed watched in shock as Leo fought the restraints like an animal caught in a trap, seemingly unconscious of the damage he could do to himself, just straining with muscle and bone against what held him. He was afraid to touch him, scared he could somehow make things worse, but horrified as he watched Leo struggle and flex to no effect. "Leo, stop, please. You're going to hurt yourself. You're safe, you're home, you don't have to be afraid anymore." Dr. Hester had said to try to reassure him, and Jed did his best. "It's me, it's Jed. I'm here, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're going to be okay now, please, just stop." Leo had managed to arch his back off the bed an inch or so and a trickle of sweat started down his temple from the exertion he was putting himself through. Jed was near tears, it was hard enough to watch someone you love in pain, but watching him needlessly frightened and hurt was brutal, and made worse by the fact that even standing there next to him, he couldn't help at all. "You're home, you're in an American hospital in California. Don't do this, Leo." Enough was enough, he was going to get the nurse before Leo really hurt himself. And then, as suddenly as he'd started, Leo was quiet and still again. Jed collapsed into his chair, reaching over to dab the sweat off Leo's forehead with some left over bandage material.

A nurse stuck her head in, "Is everything all right in here?"

Jed shook his head, things were a long way from all right, but that wasn't what she was asking. "He freaked out about the restraints, but he seemed to calm down once I started talking to him. I think he's passed out again now."

She took a moment to check on Leo and noted the incident in his chart, "No changes to his condition," she told Jed. "Let us know if you need anything."

He nodded gratefully and she left them alone again.

Soft words and a gentle touch hadn't been what Leo had expected to come next, and the simple contact with someone who wasn't trying to hurt him almost balanced the fire in his side that he'd managed to start with that little tantrum. Another prisoner then? Leo couldn't make out the words, just that they were quiet and comforting, not loud or angry or giving orders like some of what he'd heard before. Fighting the bonds had made him feel a little bit human again, like he was a man with some control over his destiny, but it had been dearly bought. His breathing had gotten more painful, and he'd jarred the leg enough that something felt wrong there. Too tired and in too much pain to even try to talk, he gave himself into the hand on his shoulder and hoped that whomever it was had some idea of how much he appreciated whatever little aid they offered.

Jed scrubbed at his eyes with the shoulder of his shirt. He wouldn't help anything by letting them see him cry here. He doubted military men were even allowed to cry, and he expected they'd think poorly of anyone who did. He swallowed the lump out of his throat and put his hand on Leo's shoulder again. Not quite squeezing, not quite stroking, just letting his friend know he wasn't alone. "Go ahead and rest Leo. I'm not going anywhere."

They stayed like that for long enough for him to feel as if the nurses were overdue. Jed had begun to develop a sense for the rhythm of the routine around here. Hester must have noted Leo's vitals during his last visit. Jed was too wrung out to attempt more stories, and couldn't bear another pointless one-sided conversation. He sat there, trying to leave himself open for Leo, just making himself emotionally available, hoping to catch some echo of the resonance they'd shared so many times before, sitting together in quiet moments, one or the other too tired to make conversation. Even quiet like that, he'd always been able to spark off of Leo's energy, and Jed felt that absence as an almost physical ache.

Leo hovered in that half conscious purgatory. He was aware of a touch on his shoulder, a gentle comforting one, not the grip of someone about to drag him off and hurt him. He managed to force his eyes open, not all the way, but enough to realize something was wrong with his vision. He could see a figure by his side, but he couldn't bring it into focus. It had to be another prisoner, and he tried hard to fight through enough layers of the muddying pain and confusion to be able to thank the other man for being there. It was bad enough dying like this in a hellhole away from everything he'd ever cared for or about, but somehow, just knowing he didn't have to do it completely alone helped a lot. The effort just wore him out though, and he let himself go again, wondering with his last semi-conscious thought how much longer he would last like this.

Nurse Jones' entrance later that evening didn't startle Jed, but the fact that she was pushing a cart with dinner trays on it did. "Surely you don't expect him to eat, do you? He hasn't been anywhere near awake enough for that."

Lieutenant Jones smiled at him. "No, but I heard you're not eating either, and I thought you might reconsider if you had company. This is my dinner break, and I can eat here as easily as in the lounge."

Jed smiled gratefully. He'd misjudged her before, for all her formality, this was a more personal gesture than anyone else had made for him since he'd been here. The food smelled great, and it would be nice to sit down for a meal instead of wolfing down something quick while worrying about what was happening with Leo. "Thank you, I guess time got away from me again."

Their conversation over dinner was pleasant, if superficial. She asked about his family, and Jed took advantage of the opportunity to pull pictures of Lizzie from his bag. She oohed and ahhed over them with the air of someone who realized how important family connections could be to patients. Jed bragged about Leo being the godfather, and about how excited he was for Lizzie to meet him. Nurse Jones didn't try to temper his enthusiasm about that introduction with any comments about realistic expectations, and he felt a surge of appreciation for that gift. It wasn't a long visit, but as she gathered up the trays and returned to her duties, Jed realized how much it had meant to him.

Leo thought he smelled food, but it smelled good, and that didn't make any sense. Standard fare for prisoners was a small bowl of moldy rice, and he smelled meat and potatoes. Was he getting delirious then? He knew about people seeing and hearing things, but he'd never heard of them smelling things that weren't there. He didn't remember the last time he'd eaten, and if he were going to daydream about food, it would be Irish stew and soda bread, not just meat and potatoes. Maybe this was some kind of weird psych game, letting the prisoners smell food that meant home but not letting them have any. He was too sick to eat, he knew that by the way his chest felt, so rather than letting himself get caught up in what he couldn't have, he tried to just savor the aroma and think of better times.

Suddenly feeling better about everything, Jed talked more to Leo about how much he wanted him to meet Lizzie, about the stories he'd already told her about him, about how much she was going to love him. They were two of his favorite topics, his daughter and his friend, and talking to either about the other was easy and fun. He went on in fits and starts about the things they'd all do together, about how Leo was going to fall for Lizzie the same way he and Abbey had, and about how much fun the whole baby thing really could be, when viewed from the right perspective. By the time he finally reached his conclusion, it was almost eleven. "She's going to love you Leo, just like her dad."

Jed had reason to appreciate to appreciate the ambiguity of that comment moments later, as the footsteps he'd heard in the hall stopped at Leo's door. At first glance, he almost didn't recognize the man in the doorway, such was the difference the uniform made. Dr. Hester looked relaxed, more like a grandfather headed home from a late night poker game than the senior officer and department head he was.

Hester walked into the room wearing casual khaki trousers and a plaid shirt. He smiled, "Why am I not at all surprised to see you're still here?"

Jed looked over to Leo and then up at Hester, "For what it's worth, he wouldn't leave me either."

"Funny you should say that. Has anyone told you how he got here? I mean, what happened on the mission where he and his bear were shot down?" Hester asked.

"Wait, his what?" Jed asked, having no idea what 'bear' meant in that context.

"Sorry," Hester acknowledged, "his electronic warfare officer." Jed must have still looked confused, "His backseater."

"O'Neil," Jed answered, knowing the guy's name from Leo's all too infrequent letters.

Hester shrugged, obviously the name didn't mean anything to him. "Do you know what happened?"

What little he knew had come from the embassy liaison in London, and he hadn't had any specifics. "No, just that his plane was shot down and it took them three days to find him," Jed answered, curious as to what details Dr. Hester might be able to provide.

"I got a phone call from his squadron commander." Hester elaborated. He pulled the physician's stool around to Jed's side of Leo and sat down. "Apparently the whole base over there is concerned and pressing for details on his condition."

Jed nodded, relieved to have some company tonight, and happy to hear that Leo meant enough to the other pilots that they would push for information about him. It raised a question Jed had wondered about though, and now seemed like a good time to ask. "Dr. Hester, about that," he began, "how did he get back here so quickly? I was under the impression that guys usually stayed in the hospitals over there until they were stable."

Col. Hester nodded, and studied the floor in front of his feet, "Usually they do, that's right. In rare cases though, it's obvious that a patient's condition is beyond the abilities of the in-theater hospitals, and a decision has to be made about whether the possible benefit of getting them back Stateside justifies the risk of transporting them in critical condition." He looked up at Leo, "Captain McGarry didn't have anything to lose."

Jed swallowed hard, that was more or less the impression he'd gotten from the officers that had come to inform him Leo had been shot down, but even so, it hurt to hear it confirmed. "I think he'd appreciate being home, but I'm sure he'd hate feeling like he got out and left the rest of his guys over there," Jed replied, trying to focus on Leo's perspective, not his own.

Hester smiled ruefully, "That's what I started to tell you. The men over there are all pushing their colonel pretty hard for an update. At least four other guys feel like they made it back because Captain McGarry destroyed a target that would otherwise have gotten them. They told their commander pretty much exactly what you just told me. That he wouldn't leave them there, and that they all want updates about how he's doing here. Seems like your friend there is quite the hero."

Jed swallowed hard, the information didn't shock him, but rather reinforced the things he knew and loved about the man. "Leo's been a hero since he was a kid. That's just who he is. You remember the Holy Martyrs thing, that fire back in '57 where so many kids died? Leo was there. He was in the school when the fire started, and he got out, but then he went back into the building. He couldn't find his sister and he wasn't going to leave her in there. He got her whole class rounded up and showed them the way through. Then he literally held the door so they could get out. He braced himself in the doorframe as it burned around him, otherwise those kids would all have been trapped, like so many of the others were."

"My God," Hester breathed. "He would have been, what, about twelve?" he asked rhetorically. "I wondered about the scars on his shoulders. I've seen burns before, but there's nothing about that in his records."

"He doesn't talk about it," Jed replied.

"They never do." Jed looked at him questioningly, and Hester clarified, "The guys who go out there and save lives, who put themselves between the dark things in the night and the comforts of home, they aren't the ones who make a big deal about it. I can't count the times I've seen it. Their buddies will tell the stories, but the guy who did the really hairy stuff will just say, 'I was in the right place at the right time,' or 'Anyone would have done the same thing if they'd been there.'"

Jed nodded, "Yeah, that's Leo. Even when we were in school, he was helping support his mom and his sisters. I told him one time how impressive I found that. He was carrying a full load, staying close to the top of the class, playing two varsity sports, and still made time for a part time job to help out. He just waved it off, said anyone would do it, given the situation, and he wouldn't listen when I told him how rare I thought it really was. Now that his mom's gone too, he's completely supporting his sisters, and he doesn't think that's anything particularly special either."

"You two go pretty far back, don't you?" Dr. Hester asked, turning to glance momentarily at Leo.

"Almost ten years," Jed admitted, "we met our junior year of high school."

Hester shook his head. "Neither of you looks old enough to have those kinds of stories to tell. The captain here looks like he could go out for the high school swim team and not have anyone question his eligibility."

"It was wrestling, not swimming. Wrestling and baseball," Jed answered, grinning as a quick flash of memory hit him. Leo in his wrestling singlet, walking off the mat triumphant, as usual, his hair plastered to his head and a mat burn on his cheek, looking up into the stands to smirk at Jed with a silent promise of a different kind of wrestling later that night. They'd both won that bout, several times each.

Jed was afraid the emotions that particular memory stirred would be obvious on his face, but Hester's next comment gave no indication that he'd seen anything amiss. "Let me guess, shortstop?"

"No, he pitched," Jed answered. "First-team all prep."

Leo woke again, still tied down, and with the fire in his side smoldering. He took a deep breath to try to control the pain, remembering too late that breathing hurt. His reality struck him, tied down even between torture sessions, in enough pain that he knew there were life threatening injuries, and without any hope of medical treatment. He was too tired to even fight them, but he had to hold on long enough to be sure people here knew him, that someone here could tell Jed what had happened to him. He could hear voices again, and the pattern and tones sounded American, not Vietnamese. He tried to make out the words, and realized suddenly that he recognized one of the voices. He listened harder, hoping to God it wasn't Kenny. If the kid had gotten captured, it was Leo's fault, and he'd never forgive himself. As the conversation went on around him though, he realized it definitely wasn't Kenny. The voices sounded older, and the rhythm and pitch wasn't Kenny's either. Still, the voice was familiar, he knew he recognized it. Oh holy hell, there was someone here that he knew, that knew him. This had to be a camp then, no one from the squadron had been shot down recently enough to still be in transition to one. No one other than he and Kenny, he reminded himself bitterly. Would this guy recognize him? He wasn't sure, not knowing which of the guys he'd seen shot down over the last year it might be. He hoped he'd said his name enough now, they knew that, surely. But names were easy to forget if they didn't mean anything to you. If he could just be sure the guy realized who he was, then when they killed him, someone would know what had happened to him. Someone who could take the news home. As much as he hated his call sign, and all the reasons behind it, it would mean something to another pilot that 'McGarry' might not. He forced himself to take a deep enough breath to have air for words, steeling himself against the flame that little movement cost him. He barely managed "Cubby" before the pain won out again, and he ground his teeth in an attempt to keep himself from screaming.

Hester stopped midsentence and he and Jed waited for Leo to continue. When nothing else was forthcoming, Hester raised his eyes at Jed. "He's from Chicago, right? North side or west side then?"

"West side. How did you know that?" Jed asked.

"I went to med school with a guy from Chicago. He made it very clear how the city divides on baseball," Hester explained, leaning back on the stool. "I take it Captain McGarry wouldn't like it very much if he found out I was a Sox fan then?"

Jed almost laughed out loud, Leo had gotten into some scrapes over the years over nothing more serious than a misplaced comment about the Cubs. His finding out his doctor was a Sox fan was going to be fun to watch. "You're serious?"

"No, actually I'm a Senators fan, but that's a stretch these days. I was just hoping your friend there might want to talk baseball," Dr. Hester answered.

"Me too. Usually once he starts on the Cubs, you can't shut him up." Jed hesitated, something here didn't make sense. If Leo were coherent enough to follow their conversation, he wouldn't have said Cubby, he'd have said Cubbies or Cubs and then he'd have gone on and on about how frustrating it was to be a fan, and how they were cursed, and how they always managed to find a way to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, and how the only thing that could possibly be worse than being a die-hard Cubs fan was being a Red Sox fan. Jed knew that last bit was for him, and appreciated it, even when it was just Leo's voice talking in his head. But Leo hadn't said any of that, he'd said 'Cubby' and nothing else. Then it clicked, "Actually, I'm not sure that was baseball, Cubby is his nickname, what do you call it, call sign. Maybe he meant that?"

Hester smiled. "They call him Cubby? Why?"

"Because he's small and he looks young," Jed answered.

Hester nodded, "It's a play on lion then? That's not so bad."

"No, that would be bad enough, but there's a mouseketeer called Cubby, and that's how it started. He really hates it," Jed explained. "I guess he gets the bit about 'See you real soon' all the time."

Hester cringed, "I can see that, and of course the more the guys realize it bothers him, the more they do it."

Jed nodded, "Yeah." He was quiet for a moment. This latest outburst made even less sense than the name, rank, and serial number mantra of earlier. "He's getting worse, isn't he?"

Hester shook his head a little, "He's not worse, he's just not better. The antibiotics should be working, and I was hoping he'd be more aware by now. The vocalizations aren't indicative though, without any idea of what he's perceiving, we can't try to explain his reactions."

Jed was afraid of the answer, but he still needed to ask the question. "He's going to be brain damaged, isn't he? That's why he hasn't woken up. That's why he can't say anything coherent."

"We just don't know yet. Give him time, it's really too soon to say with any degree of certainty," Hester hedged.

"But you expect so, don't you?" Jed pressed.

"I expect there may be some lasting effects from the infection and fever, yes. That's not to say they'll necessarily be permanent," Hester replied.

Jed put his head into his hands. He honestly wasn't sure which was the worst case scenario, losing Leo completely or losing the things that made him Leo. He knew which Leo would say.

Hester touched his shoulder, "Jed. Don't give up on him, he needs you to believe."

Jed looked up, surprised, "That's the first time you've called me Jed. It's always been 'Mr. Bartlet' before."

"I'm out of uniform tonight. His squadron commander and I first met back in '45 when he was flying Thunderbolts over France and when I talked to him tonight, he asked me to look in on this young man for him. This is more of a social call, something like the uncle looking in on the kids when their dad is out of town," Hester explained.

Jed pondered that concept, that Dr. Hester could shed some of the military formality with his uniform and just be a doctor checking up on someone for a friend. The more he thought about it, there had definitely been subtle differences in his manner tonight, even beyond calling him by his first name. He needed to ask a question, and he hadn't been able to ask the senior officer, and he didn't want to ask any of the nurses either. "Isn't there something I can do for him? Something personal? He's my best friend, but I don't feel like I'm doing anything for him here. Is there some way I could help, without getting in the way or stepping on anyone's toes?"

"I think you're doing more than you realize. Things could be a lot worse, and the fact that he's holding as steady as he is may be attributable to your presence, whether he's consciously aware of it or not. He trusted you enough to give you that power of attorney, that's a pretty special friendship, and just having someone outside of the medical community on hand for a patient can be a real difference maker. I know you haven't seen any proof of that yet, but try not to let yourself forget it," Hester's tone was a uniquely Southern blend of reassurance and persuasion. "Having said all of that," he continued, "I understand your need to do something more tangible. We've been hydrating him solely with IVs, so he hasn't had anything by mouth. His lips are cracked and his throat is probably pretty sore from the trach tube. If I get someone to bring you some ice chips, you could wet his lips a little, that might make him somewhat more comfortable. Is that personal enough for you?" he asked.

That question from someone else might have been taunting, but the way Dr. Hester asked it, Jed sensed real understanding and concern. "That's perfect. Thank you."

"Is there anything else I can do for you while I'm here? You've found the cafeteria and all that, I assume. I see you've worked things out with the nurses to be around after visiting hours. Do you need a pass to get through the gate guards? Directions to the post office? Anything at all?" Hester asked.

Jed smiled, clearly the man had experience with the challenges family members had to deal with when visiting his patients. "No, I think I'm pretty well set. Thank you though, just having something I can do for him means a lot."

"All right, then, I'll stop on my way out and get a nurse to bring a cup of ice chips down." He stood slowly, pausing by Leo's bed for a long look, one of someone who's seen another side of a patient. "Son, you work on getting better, I want to be able to give Len Bock a better report come Monday. I owe him a bottle of scotch from our last chess game, and I'd hate to have him claiming another on account of not providing the expected standard of care for one of his men. You've got a whole base of guys worried about you in Southeast Asia and you're scaring your friend here, it's time to start wending your way back to us." He bowed his head very briefly and then turned towards the door. "Good night, Jed. Be sure you get some rest too." He walked out without waiting for a reply.