Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo (helsinkibaby.ahkay.net) Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: At his daughter's christening, Leo remembers how they got here…
Author's Note: Has nothing whatsoever to do with any series I'm working on…and I honestly don't know where this tale crawled out from, but here it is anyway!

My best friend joins me as I stand with my back to the window, looking across the room at my family and friends. There's a jovial smile on his face, and he claps me on the back with one hand, following my gaze as he does so. "Smile Leo," he tells me, shaking his head. "This is supposed to be a joyful occasion!"

I give him a smile, hoping to mollify him somewhat. "I'm joyful," I tell him. "I'm plenty joyful."

He laughs and shakes his head. "You can't fool me Leo. You're just dying to get back to the office, thinking about all the work you could be doing, all the papers you have to read…" There's a devilish twinkle in his eye, and he nods his head across the room, in the direction of my earlier gaze. "I bet if that pretty bride of yours gave you half a chance, you'd be back there like a shot."

"We're not married yet Sir," I remind him, letting him think that that's the truth, that the only reason I want to get out of this room is to get back to the office. God knows, once upon a time, it would have been, but those days are long gone.

For my troubles, I get a pursing of the lips and a shake of the head. "And it's not for the want of me trying to convince you."

"No Sir, it's not." He spent hours trying to convince us to get married before today, or at least on the same day, but my prospective bride is a very stubborn woman, and she refused to get married before she felt ready. I think she's worried that I'm going to change my mind, that I'm going to up and leave her, and I can understand her fears. I also know that she's wrong.

The President laughs again at my response, and she turns her head, looking right at the two of us. "Would you look at her?" he says to me as she comes over to us. "You did good old friend…you did good."

And I nod, because it's the truth. "I know."

She weaves her way through the myriad friends and family that have gathered to join us today, grinning up at me when she reaches me, before turning to the President. "Mr President," she greets him formally.

He shakes his head, tutting. "Ainsley, Ainsley, Ainsley…how many times have I told you that it's Jed when we're off duty?"

She nods, having heard this many times before. "Yes Sir." She's told me, as many times as he's told her, that hell will most likely freeze before she's comfortable calling the President Jed.

He affects disgust before leaning over to look at the bundle in Ainsley's arms. "And how is this little angel doing?"

Ainsley's features soften into a genuine smile as she looks down at our daughter. "Fast asleep," she tells us.

I steal a peek at her too, something that I don't think I'll ever get tired of doing. "And why shouldn't she be?" The President lowers his voice. "It's a very tiring business, this getting christened."

Ainsley nods, looking up at me briefly, and I catch the look in her eyes that tells me that it's not just a tiring business for babies. "Why don't you go put her down?" I tell her. "Take a break yourself too."

"Oh, I couldn't," she demurs, but it's obvious that she's only paying lip service to the concept. "There are so many people here…"

"And they'll all understand," I tell her, leaning down and placing a kiss on her cheek. "Go."

She smiles and makes her exit, and I can't help but smile after her. When I next look at Jed, he's shaking his head with this goofy grin on his face, and I have the uncomfortable feeling that I'm being mocked. "What?" I ask him.

"Nothing, nothing," he laughs. "I just never thought I'd see you with that particular look on your face." I smile myself, recognising the truth in his words, and that gives him license to continue. "Look around you Leo…all these people who have come to celebrate with you and Ainsley…we should do this more often. Get together, outside of work. I mean, the last time we did was Sam and Mallory's wedding."

"Yeah." I take a sip of my orange juice to wash away the bitter taste that comes into my mouth. Because after all, that was where this all began.

Sam and Mallory's wedding plans didn't really involve me too much. Apart from the tuxedo fittings, the drafts of the father-of-the-bride speech that they got Toby to write for me, and giving my chequebook a workout the likes of which it had never seen before, or will again, I wasn't too involved. But when it came to the actual day, I've got to say, it went without a hitch. Which, considering the countless hitches that preceded it over the course of their relationship, that's either a miracle and very good omen, or they were long overdue for some luck.

Whatever the reason, it was as if the fates shone on their wedding day. The weather was beautiful, Mallory was gorgeous, Sam didn't injure himself in any way, shape or form, Josh didn't lose the rings and I even managed to get on well with Jenny. It was halfway through the reception, when I was talking with some of the Senior Staff that Donna alerted me to a problem. She thought she was being discreet, talking to Josh in a low voice; she didn't know that I could overhear her, didn't know that I was paying attention. "Josh, why don't you ask Ainsley to dance?"

"Donna!" Josh looked at her, scandalised. "If you've given up on Joey Lucas, I appreciate it, but…"

"No!" Donna smacked him on the arm lightly. "Just look at her…she looks lonely."

Josh snorted. "She looks drunk."

I looked over at the other table where some of the assistants were gathered. They all seemed to be having a high old time, but Ainsley was staring into her drink. "That's what I'm talking about," Donna hissed. It was at that point that she realised that I was listening, and she blushed. "I'm not gossiping or anything…"

"Heaven forbid." Josh rolled his eyes at me, but I wasn't finding the funny in this.

Neither, evidently, was Donna. "But she's been quieter than usual lately…she hasn't even been stealing Sam's food. I think this is a really hard day for her."

"In what way?" I asked, although I already had a pretty good idea, and the look that passed between Josh and Donna did nothing to disabuse me of the notion.

The look that Donna was giving Josh clearly said that it was his party, so he took a deep breath before he spoke. "The Rumour Mill has it that Ainsley is in love with Sam. That she hasn't taken this wedding well."

I looked over at her again, and couldn't help but notice how miserable she looked. "Has anyone talked to her?" I asked.

"I tried," Donna told me. "She denies everything." She gave Josh a dirty look. "But I still think you should ask her to dance." As we watched, Ainsley made her way over to the bar. "Her getting blitzed isn't going to solve anything."

"No, it's not." I didn't mean to say that out loud, but I gathered that I had from the looks that Josh and Donna were giving me, and making my decision, I stood up.

"Where are you going?" Josh asked.

"I'm the father of the bride Josh," I reminded him. "If someone's not having a good time at my only daughter's wedding, I think I ought to do something about it, don't you?"

I didn't wait around for their reactions, didn't want them to talk me out of what I was doing. Didn't want to give myself a chance to talk me out of what I was doing. I wasn't deaf. I'd heard the rumours about Sam and Ainsley. Hell, before he and Mal got back together, there was a pool going about when the two of them would do the deed. And I wasn't blind either. I'd seen how miserable she'd been lately. And I wanted to do something to help her, for reasons that I wasn't comfortable with analysing. I'd tried to tell myself, on numerous occasions, that I'd do the same if it were Mal. Or if it were Zoey, or Donna, or Margaret. But I was lying to myself; I just didn't want to admit it to myself. After all, I was an alcoholic for years; I was great at lying to myself.

She jumped when I put my hand on her shoulder. "Leo!" Her smile was a little too bright, just a little false looking. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Relieved the speeches are over."

"I would have thought that you were used to giving speeches to large groups of people."

"Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it." I took her by the elbow as I spoke, steering her towards the dance floor. "Dance with me."

"But I don't want…" She cast an eye back to the bar, to the barman approaching with her drink, but I wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Dance with me," I repeated. And she looked up at me, and looked into my eyes, and let me lead her out on to the floor.

The band were playing a slow song, some waltz or other, and we started off in perfect ballroom dance formation, the requisite distance between us, her body rigid in my arms. Smiling slightly, able to look more or less into her eyes thanks to her high heels, I tugged her gently closer to me, trying not to notice that she stiffened even more. "You can move a little closer," I told her.

"I'm not a very good dancer." She looked embarrassed, but she moved closer, even slipped her arm up so that it rested on my shoulder.

We moved in silence for a verse of the song, before I spoke. "So, I've got this problem."

"And you want my help?" She sounded surprised.

"More your advice. See, I've got this friend. And she's a terrific woman…a real lady. But she hasn't looked too happy lately. And she's blocking everyone who wants to help her. Except for one thing."

She looked up at me, and I think she would have stormed off if I hadn't been holding her tightly, expecting her to bolt. "Maybe she doesn't want help," she tried.

"Maybe so," I allowed. "But you see, my friend? She seems to be trying to drown her sorrows, not deal with them." Harsh words, but true, and she flinched, but this time, she didn't move away. "I spent a lot of years Ainsley, looking for solutions to problems at the bottom of a glass. I don't like to see my friends making the same mistakes I've made."

There were tears in her eyes, but she battled them back valiantly. "Your friend sounds like someone I know," she finally admitted.

"Really?"

"Yeah. And it's silly you know, that she's letting it get to her like this? Because it's not a new thing."

"It's not?"

"No. It seems to happen to her a lot. She's just got really terrible taste in men."

Ah. I tried not to let her see my heart crashing through my shoes and shattering into a million pieces on the floor as I realised that all the rumours had been right. "She goes for what Josh calls gomers?"

She laughed softly. "He's not a gomer. She just keeps falling for men that she can't have."

I nodded, feeling odd having this conversation, with a woman I'm attracted to, who's in love with my daughter's husband. "Maybe your friend just needs to be reminded that there are other fish in the sea," I tried, remembering too late how I'd hated that cliché when Jed and Abbey used it after Jenny left.

But Ainsley just shook her head. "Not like this one…she's been crazy about him since the first day that she met him. And it hasn't gone away."

"But he's taken," I sighed, reflecting once more on the strangeness of this conversation.

It got even stranger once I processed her reply. I actually had to run it through my head a couple of times before what she'd said settled there. "No he's not."

"He's not?" My gaze flew of its own accord to Sam and Mallory, dancing on the other side of the floor, lost in their own little world. Ainsley looked over in the same direction, and when we looked at each other again, I couldn't figure out what was in her eyes. Sadness, amusement, regret…but mostly sadness. "I thought…"

I didn't have to finish. She knew what I thought. And she shook her head, looking down for an instant, laughing without humour. "She's not interested in Sam Leo," she told me, looking up at me then. "She's interested in his father-in-law."

That was another sentence that took a while to process, and by the time I opened my mouth to say something, she was gone from my arms. I started after her, but was waylaid by an unstoppable force of nature. Stopping Hurricane Andrew in full force would be easier than dissuading Abigail Bartlet from a course of action once she's set her mind on it, and I had no luck at all.

"Leo!" She greeted me, a jovial smile on her face, but I knew her well enough to see the structural steel behind it. "Look at you, all out here on your own. Dance with me."

"Abbey…" I was looking past her, trying to see Ainsley, but she was insistent.

"Dance with me."

Since she was steering me out to the middle of the floor, it's not like I had much of a choice in the matter, but thankfully, Abbey didn't take long to get to her point. "What was that Leo?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I told her. I should have known though, that Abbey likes to tell people that she's all knowing and all seeing, and not only that, but she really is.

"Don't give me that Leo." A teasing smile played around her lips. "You've got an itch for Ainsley don't you?"

"Abbey…."

"Oh, don't Abbey me! I've got a sense about these things…I was right about Sam and Mallory, and I'm not wrong now. Am I?"

The last was said with a sense of challenge, and I didn't have it in me to deny it any more. "No. You're not wrong."

"So? What happened? Why did she leave you standing in the middle of the floor?"

I sighed. "I thought she was interested in Sam."

"Leo, Leo, Leo…" It was Abbey's turn to sigh. "That's because you're an idiot."

"That's what she told me."

Abbey stopped dead in the middle of the floor, leading to concerned looks from CJ and Toby, who almost waltzed right into us. She pasted a smile on her face and resumed dancing with me before hissing, "When?"

"Right now. When she told me she was interested in me."

"She said that?"

"She said that she wasn't interested in Sam…that she was interested in his father-in-law."

Abbey laughed in amazement. "Then what the hell are you doing dancing with me?"

I gave her a look. "You know, I really have no idea."

She took a step back from me, and once again she looked like a woman on a mission. "Go!" she hissed.

So I went.

I wasn't sure at first if she'd left or not; after all, she'd run off the dance floor pretty quickly. Then I had a brainwave and checked back at the table where I'd first seen her. Her purse was still beside her chair, as was her wrap, so I knew that she couldn't have gone far. The only thing that remained for me to do was to find her.

Which I eventually did. She was sitting in the lobby of the hotel, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. She must have heard me coming, because she looked up, flushing red when she saw who was coming, standing up and moving towards the door. I wasn't going to let her get away that easily though - after all, I had right, not to mention the First Lady, on my side. "I think we should talk," I called after her, pitching my voice just so she could hear me, but not loudly enough to attract the attention of anyone who happened to be passing.

My words stopped her in her tracks and she turned around to face me, arms still wrapped around her middle. "I think we've talked enough Leo. Chalk it up to my having too much to drink, and being a little too emotional, and just forget about it, ok?" She turned away again, but this time, I was close enough to catch her by the elbow.

"You can't just tell me something like that and then walk away from me."

"Why not?" She still wasn't looking at me.

"Because I never got the chance to tell you how I feel," I told her simply, settling for the truth. She stilled for a second, then half-turned to look at me, and I could see the hope rising in her eyes.

"And how…how do you feel?"

I smiled at her, reaching over to brush a strand of hair back behind her ear, letting my hand linger on her cheek. "The same way you do," I told her, and was rewarded by the first genuine smile that I'd seen from her in weeks. "Why don't we go back to the room…I believe you left me in the middle of a dance."

And so I led her back to the ballroom, my arm around her waist, and we danced together for the rest of the night. It didn't go unnoticed; on the contrary, I saw heads turn to us, and there were glances and double takes, and Ainsley told me later that Donna cornered her in the ladies room, wanting to know what on earth was going on. And I was worried that Mal would be pissed, but she took me aside for a father-daughter dance, and asked me if there was something going on. When I told her that there might be, she smiled, and told me that she was happy for me. That kid never fails to surprise me.

By the next day, everyone in the West Wing knew that Ainsley and I were a couple, which didn't worry us in the slightest. We both knew that that was what we wanted, both knew that we wanted to be together, both knew that it wasn't a transitory thing. And we were happy together.

Until she started pulling away from me. It was subtle at first; I'll give her that. I might not have even noticed it had I not been half expecting it, expecting her, a young beautiful woman, to tire of dating a man old enough to be her father, expecting my job, my past, all the baggage that I had to turn her away from me. She seemed distracted, detached; some of the sparkle was gone from her eyes. The first day, I thought it might be just a bad day at the office; after all, I knew that there'd been talk about how she was just with me because I was the boss, and it was an easy way of keeping her job. Ainsley didn't tell me that of course; I asked Margaret if anyone was talking about me and Ainsley. She denied it at first, but one look from me had her telling me the whole truth. But Ainsley never talked about it with me, she just bottled it up. So that's what I thought was bothering her at first. And then, when her mood didn't lift, I thought that she wanted to end it, and didn't know how to tell me.

I didn't want that to be true, didn't want to hear that from her. Because I knew that I didn't want to lose her.

She came to my place that night, and she was so pale. I've never seen her that pale. And the first words out of her mouth were, "Leo, we need to talk."

If there's one thing that I've learned in my life, it's that no good news ever follows those words. And because I didn't want to hear what she had to say, because I knew that I wasn't strong enough to hear her say that it was over, I did the only thing I could think of. I stalled her. I started telling her how she didn't look well, how she should sit down, and I'd get her something to drink. "I don't want something to drink Leo, I need to talk to you." But she really didn't look well, so I went into my kitchen anyway, on the pretext of getting her a glass of water, and she followed me, talking all the while. I left her water glass on the counter before pouring myself a cup of coffee, trying to avoid the moment as long as I could. I turned to her then, picking up the drinks, handing her the glass, but she didn't take it. Her eyes were fixed on the cup of coffee in my other hand, and her face grew several shades paler, which I would have sworn wasn't possible until it actually happened. I could see beads of sweat appear on her forehead, and took another step closer to her, her name on my lips, but before I could ask her anything else, she'd turned and run to the bathroom. The door didn't slam shut the whole way behind her, and through the crack of the door, I could hear the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

Leaving the coffee but keeping the water, I followed her, pushing the door open carefully, not sure of what I'd see, not sure of how she might react. She didn't even notice that I was there at first; she was still slumped over the toilet, and I wet a facecloth before hunching down beside her, one hand gripping her hair to keep it back, the other rubbing up and down her back gently.

I don't know how long we stayed like that; it probably seemed like longer. But after an aeon or so, she straightened up, refusing the facecloth, but accepting the glass with a wan smile. She rinsed out her mouth first, then took a couple of gulps of the liquid, before closing the lid and resting her head against the cool porcelain. Her eyes closed, and I could see that she was still taking deep breaths. "Better?" I asked her.

Her head moved up and down.

"Ready to move yet?" My hand was still moving up and down her back, but she didn't show any signs of movement, save for a slight wrinkling of her nose, which I took as a negative. "OK."

"I'm sorry." When she did speak, it was only in a whisper, and she sounded tired, defeated almost.

I rustled up a smile for her, although it was nowhere near what I was feeling. In point of fact, I was worried about her. "Forget it. You can't help being sick."

"I’m not sick Leo." Again, her words were only a whisper, but she opened her eyes as she spoke, looking right at me. "I'm pregnant."

Now it was my turn to feel sick, to feel as if the room was spinning around me, to feel the bottom dropping out of my stomach. I tried to open my mouth, tried to say something, but there was nothing I could say, because suddenly her reticence over the past week or so seemed justified, her nerves tonight doubly so.

Tears pooled in her eyes at my stunned silence. "Say something," she whispered.

"How long?" I croaked, and she smiled slightly, handing me her half-full glass of water, which I drained.

"Eight weeks." There was a long pause, and I knew that she knew I was counting back in my head. "Leo…"

"I know." There's no way that I couldn't know. For a start, we'd only been together for six weeks, give or take. For another, we were taking things slowly. I know that the rest of the West Wing thought that we'd been sleeping together since Sam and Mal's wedding, but that wasn't the case. They weren't to know that the first time we'd spent the night together was only two weeks earlier, although we'd spent the night together every night since then. But it didn't change the fact that this wasn't my baby, couldn't be my baby, and I knew it.

"I should go." She started to pull herself up slowly, and moving with a speed I wouldn't have thought possible, I was suddenly on my feet, helping her up.

"I think we should talk first…don't you?"

She swallowed hard. "OK."

We sat down on my couch, her sitting first, me sitting down beside her. Hesitating only for a second, I reached over and took her hand in mine, not missing the bright smile that flickered momentarily on her face when I did. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I don't know where to begin," I told her frankly.

"It's ok…I guess I should start." For once, she was speaking slowly, her normal fast talking patter completely absent. "I didn't know Leo…not when we first started. I never would have…well, you know. I only found out for sure today…"

I nodded. "The father?" I asked gently.

She shook her head. "That was such a mistake Leo…I knew that it was wrong, that we shouldn't, that I didn't care for him, that he didn't care for me… but he was sweet, and nice… and I was drunk and so was he, and we weren't thinking…and the next morning, we knew that it'd never happen again…and I really thought that it was in the past. And then I danced with you…and when you came after me…Leo, that's all I've wanted for so long." She shook her head as more tears leaked out, and wiped her eyes quickly, the very picture of impatience. "So when I found out… I didn't know how to tell you…" She paused then, looking at me. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

I squeezed her hand, my mind only half on what she was telling me, hardly able to believe what I was thinking. "You're eight weeks along."

"Yes."

"And we've been together for six."

"Yes." There was confusion creeping into her voice, and I couldn't say that I blamed her. Whatever she'd been expecting, I doubted it was this.

"You know, they all think we've been sleeping together since then… and two weeks isn't that long."

Her eyes opened wide as the implications of what I was saying crept in. "Leo…" she finally managed. "It's not your baby."

"There's only two people who know that," I told her. I held my breath, knowing that what she decided to do was going to affect everything - our relationship, our jobs, our whole lives, for a long time. And that prospect wasn't as scary as it might have been.

One tear slipped down her cheek. "You'd do that for me?" she whispered.

"No." She blinked at my reply, but my voice was steady. "I'd do that for us."

And that was all that it took to convince her. From that day on, the baby was my baby, no questions asked. The staff were shocked with the speed at which we announced things, and Donna, always so observant, even said it in passing to Ainsley that she must have gotten pregnant on the first night. And Ainsley had blushed and told her that she must have. But they accepted our story, because they had no reason not to, and they were happy for us. I was worried about telling Mallory most of all, and she was stunned into silence, literally. I held onto Ainsley's hand tightly, just as I'd done when she told me, and we waited for Mallory to explode with anger. Instead, the kid surprised me again, by hugging us both and wishing us well.

So, that was that. We were an item, and people accepted that. We were going to have a baby, and people accepted that too. We started looking at houses together, starting making plans. Other people started making plans for us too, the President in particular. He was the third person we told, after Sam and Mal, but before the rest of the Senior Staff. The second he heard, he started bugging me about marriage, and making thing official, permanent. I tried to deflect his words, but he wasn't having any of it - the man's as persistent as his wife when it comes to getting what he wants. And while he wouldn't have any real objection to us raising the baby out of wedlock, he couldn't see any problems with us marrying as soon as possible, couldn't see the reason for any delay. "You're living together anyway Leo," he would tell me. "You're buying a house, you're having a baby…why not?"

You know how you hear something often enough, and it makes its way into your head, into your heart, without you even being aware of it? That's what happened to me. The more time passed, the more I grew to agree with him. We'd moved into the house, this very house actually. Ainsley was four months along by then, past the point of morning sickness, thank God, and she was eating me out of house and home. I wasn't staying as late in the office, taking work home instead, concentrating on getting things ready in the house and for the baby. Every now and then, someone would ask how I was finding the change in my life, and I would tell them the truth. That I loved it. That I'd never been happier. I knew it, Ainsley knew it, anyone who knew me over the past few years knew it. And I wanted to make it official.

I had to swear Margaret to secrecy, although I swear, I don't know how she managed it. When I told her that I wanted to pick out a nice ring, and that she should get on the phone to Harry Winston again, she got all teary-eyed and sentimental, and kept telling me how happy she was for me. She was the one who helped me to pick out the ring, although I knew The One the second I saw it. And then she reminded me that I had to go up to the Hill for a meeting.

It was when I was coming out of the meeting, walking down the steps of the Capitol, that I saw them. They didn't see me; they were too intent on each other. And not in a good way - his arms were waving all over the place, she was shaking her head, and trying to walk away from him. He grabbed her by the arm and turned her to face him, and she was shaking her head some more. They were obviously trying to be circumspect, trying not to let anyone see what was going on, and I'm sure that their voices were being kept down. Not that I could hear them; I was too far away. But as I looked at them, I felt my stomach turn over, felt the world tilt on its axis around me, and I had to take several deep breaths before I felt any way normal.

Because I knew, deep down in my bones, what it was all about.

She got home before me that night; she always does. And I heard her talking to me when I got in, watched her pottering around the kitchen, making an evening meal for us both. She always does that, no matter how late I come in, even now, because she tells me that it makes her feel better to know that I've definitely eaten something, and because it gives us time to talk to one another properly. Of course, when she was pregnant, she was eating everything in sight anyway, so it was just another excuse. I knew that, but I didn't mind, because I enjoyed those evening meals too.

"I had a meeting on the Hill today." My words cut across her chatter, something that I never did, something that I never do, and she stopped dead, turning slowly to look at me. Her eyes were wide, and she was paling ever so slightly. "It finished at three o'clock." She turned back to the counter, laying down whatever the hell it was that was in her hands, before turning back to me, hands braced on the counter behind her.

"Leo…" Her voice was shaky, and if I needed any proof of what I'd seen, that was it.

"I'm right aren't I?" I should've been angry, but I wasn't. I was stunned. Incredulous. Anger would come later I knew, probably sooner rather than later, but right now, I was just numb.

"It's not what you think Leo, I swear, it's not…it was one time, it didn't mean anything, it's never happened since…Leo, I love you." She approached me carefully, resting her hand on my arm.

I was still stuck on the first part of her words, and the anger began to uncoil in my stomach when I heard them. "It's not what I think? Well, that's good, because what I'm thinking is that my girlfriend is pregnant to my son-in-law. I'm so glad that it's not what I think." I walked away from her then, regretting the way that my voice had risen, trying to bring myself back under control. When I turned again, I was in the living room; she was standing in the doorway, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Everything I told you about that night is true Leo…it was just one time. We'd both been drinking; he didn't know what he was doing. And I was so lonely, and I was so tired of being alone. And the next day, we knew that it was wrong, that it should never have happened. We swore that we'd keep it to ourselves, that it would be like it never happened…" She began to move closer to me. "And at the wedding, and afterwards, when he found out about you and me, he told me that he was happy for us, that he'd never say anything about it, that he knew what it could cost the two of us…" She shook her head, tears coming faster now. "And then I found out that I was pregnant, and I was so scared Leo, I was so scared. That you would be mad, that you would hate me. That you'd find out who the father was and that you'd hate me even more… and when I told you, you were so nice, and you held me…and I thought it would be ok. I wanted to believe that, so so badly…" She sank down on the couch.

"How did Sam find out?"

"He was so angry… he told me that he was able to count to nine…I denied it, told him he was crazy, that you were the father. But he didn't believe me. And he kept on at me, and on at me, and he wouldn't stop…" She pushed her hair back out of her face. "I never wanted this Leo… all I wanted was you, and the baby and this house… I wanted our life together… I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

She broke off into incoherent sobs there, and all I could do was look at her. I was strangely reminded of the night that she told me that she was pregnant - she cried then too, told me how sorry she was. And that night, I couldn't stand her tears, couldn't watch her like that. The past couple of months had made my feelings deeper, and I was even less able to stand it now. That's why I sat down beside her, wrapped my arms around her, rocked her back and forth, shushing her. "Come on now," I told her. "You shouldn't get upset like this…it's not good for you…" I sighed, kissing the top of her head. "Come on now…"

When she straightened up, the tracks of her tears were marked on her face, her eyes red, but she looked more hopeful, less desolate. "What are you going to do?" she whispered.

I shook my head. "What are we going to do."

"You mean you still…?"

I nodded, looking down at the floor. "I got you a present today," I told her. I'd brought it home with me, even after seeing what I saw, because I didn't want to admit that what I'd seen was true, because no matter what I'd seen, I didn't want to lose her. I didn't want to lose them.

"You did?" The change in subject had caught her flat-footed; I could see she didn't have a clue what I was talking about. Which was good I supposed - after all, I had wanted to surprise her.

"Yeah." Standing, I picked up my briefcase and laid it on the table, taking out a flat rectangular box, handing it to her. She opened it up, frowning in puzzlement when she was a plain gold necklace there.

"It's lovely," she managed, and I hid a smile at her confusion.

"I thought that it would go with this." From my pocket, I took out another, smaller, box, sitting back down on the couch beside her. She gasped when I opened it, seeing the diamond solitaire winking back at her. "I know that you can't wear your rings anymore…" Her hands had swollen slightly, and she'd been complaining about it for the last week. "So I thought that you could wear it around your neck, you know, until we can get it sized properly for you…"

Tears were once again rolling down her cheeks, and her hand was covering her mouth, her body shaking with sobs. "It's beautiful," she told me.

"Will you wear it?" I took the ring out of the box, holding it out to her. "Will you marry me?"

Her arms were around my neck in a second, and I felt, as well as heard, her whisper of yes.

We stayed up late that night, talking about what we were going to do, and both of us slept through the alarm the next morning. We didn't wake until Margaret called, and I knew from the tone of her voice that she was half-embarrassed about calling, half-dying with curiosity to know what had happened last night. I told her that I'd be in as soon as I could, and not to say a word to anyone.

And we got through the day, and left the office early, and that night, a knock came to the door. Ainsley answered it, and I could hear the nerves in her voice when she asked him to come in. She hung up his coat, and he followed her in, stopping dead when he saw me standing there, turning to Ainsley. "I didn't know Leo was going to be here," he said to her, smiling uncertainly.

She looked from me to him, wringing her hands. "Sam, Leo knows."

Her quiet words had an immediate effect on him, and he looked from her to me and back again. "He knows? You told him? Ainsley how could you-"

"I guessed Sam." Long years of being the boss have given me the ability to silence a room with my voice, and I used that to good effect now. He turned to me, shocked into silence, and I took that as a means to continue. "I saw you two… yesterday, outside the Capitol? And I guessed."

"Have you told Mallory?" His voice sounded dry, and he looked nervous, but that was to be expected. He had a hell of a lot more to lose than we did.

"No. And I'm not gonna." Ainsley was still standing in the middle of us, and I held out my hand to her. She smiled nervously and came to me, taking it gladly, and we sat down on the couch together, motioning to Sam to sit down as well.

"Why not?" He looked wary, and again, I understood why.

"Because that way, no-one wins," I told him simply.

Beside me, Ainsley took a deep breath. "Sam, I asked you to come here tonight, because we need to work this out… to figure out what we're going to do."

Sam's eyes landed squarely on our joined hands, resting on Ainsley's knees. "I'd say you've already reached a decision."

"You're damn right," I muttered, and Sam's eyes opened wide.

Ainsley shot me a warning look. "Leo-"

I shook my head. "Ainsley, I know I promised you that I'd stay calm, and I will. But I’m not going to take that attitude from the man who cheated on my daughter two weeks before their wedding."

"I never meant for it to happen." Sam looked genuinely chastened, and I didn't for a moment doubt him. I've seen him with Mallory; I'd seen him on their wedding day. I know how much he adores her, that he'd do anything for her.

"I know," I said quietly. "Ainsley told me. But it did, and now we've got to deal with it."

"And you do that by passing off my baby as yours?"

"Do you have a better idea?" I asked him quickly, before Ainsley could get a word in. "Because I've got to tell you Sam, we talked about this last night from every angle. And the only one that makes any sense is for me and Ainsley to raise this child as ours, just like we planned." Sam just stared at us, so I continued. "If we tell the world that you're the father, your marriage is over. You know that. Mallory'd never forgive you for it. And she'd never forgive Ainsley, and she'd never forgive me for knowing about it and helping to cover it up. The press would turn it into a scandal, Ainsley would never work in this town again, and God help the child, because it'd never have a normal life. Everyone loses if you make a thing of this Sam, everyone."

Ainsley gripped my hand tighter. "We're going to get married Sam," she told him, leaning forward in the seat as she spoke, her voice pleading with him to understand. "We're going to be happy… the baby's going to be happy, it's not going to want for anything…"

"This is our baby Sam," I told him.

He shook his head, his jaw set. "It just doesn't seem right." The words came out through clenched teeth.

"It's not right Sam!" I found myself exclaiming. "There's nothing about this that's right. But it's what there is. It's the best that we can do in this situation. I love Ainsley, and she loves me, and we will love this child, no matter what you do." Looking at Sam, I could tell that he recognised the truth in what he was saying, that he believed me. And that he didn't want to lose Mallory, but he wanted to be part of the baby's life too. He was being pulled in two directions, and suddenly, I almost felt sorry for him. "You'll be a part of the baby's life Sam… you're married to its sister. You'll be there. This is the best way Sam. For all of us."

It seemed like hours before he spoke again, and there was a catch in his voice when he did. "I know that. I do. It's just…"

"We know Sam." This time, it was Ainsley who spoke. "We know."

And we did. Because we'd agreed the night before what we were going to say to him, but we'd also acknowledged that it wasn't going to be the easiest thing in the world for us to pull off. Ainsley was more worried about it than I was. She was concerned that I'd realise that I didn't want to raise another man's child at my age; that I'd end up hating Sam for what he did to Mallory, and end up hating her too. I told her that that wasn't going to happen, but I don't think she believed me. That's why she didn't want to marry me before the baby was born; because she wanted to give me as much time as possible to change my mind.

But I didn't. And if you'd told me that I would be doing this, that I'd ever have accepted this chain of events, much less embraced it, I would never have believed you. But life's a funny thing, and the one thing that I was sure of when all of this was going on was that I loved Ainsley. And watching that life grow inside her, seeing that first sonogram, feeling the baby kick, I fell in love with her all over again. And I knew I loved our child.

Our child. Our baby. Our daughter.

Ainsley's told me that it always chokes her up when I refer to her like that. I tell her, and I mean it honestly, that I've never thought of her as anything else.

The day that she was born was one of the happiest days of my life. And when she looked up at me with her mother's eyes, I knew that this is how things were supposed to be. I can't tell you how many times I've stood watching her sleep, how many times I've rocked her in my arms, and counted my blessings, thanked God for bringing them both to me.

It took a long time to decide on a name, but we finally settled on Amy Jane; Ainsley having threatened anyone who shortens it to A.J. with a slow, torturous death. According to the book that went everywhere with Ainsley for a solid two months, Amy means beloved; Jane, gracious gift. It couldn't be more perfect for her.

And I look around me now, at my friends and my family, all of whom gathered here to celebrate the christening of the newest member of this strange family that Jed Bartlet's Presidency has put together, and I count my blessings just one more time.

I'm in the middle of doing that when Mallory comes over to me, smiling brightly as she has been all day. "You ok Dad?" she asks me, and I wonder how long I've been standing here, walking down memory lane.

"I'm fine baby," I tell her. "Just thinking."

Mallory looks around the room. "Hey, where'd Ainsley go?"

"Amy was sleeping," I tell her. "She went to put her down. And I think she was going to take a rest herself; she's pretty tired."

"It's been a long day for her. And she hasn't stopped all week, making sure everything was just right." There's a teasing glint in Mallory's eye, and I know what it's about. She and Ainsley put a lot of hours into putting the ceremony and this party together, and they did it with precious little help from me. "Why don't you go check on her?" she suggests now.

I look around the room, seeing that everyone's still here. "I can't leave…" I begin to protest, but Mal's not taking no for an answer.

"Sam and I can work the room Dad…after all, isn't that part of a godparent's duties?"

And I smile the best smile I can under the circumstances, and go to find Ainsley. We weren't sure if we should ask them to be godparents, although I'd suggested it to Ainsley before I knew who the father was. When she reminded me of the conversation, I was struck by the thought that I'd never play poker with her as long as I lived, because I hadn't seen a flicker of anything on her face when I suggested it. We weren't sure how Sam would take it, so we approached him first, calling him into my office one day and sounding him out. He asked for some time to think about it, but he came back the next day and told us that he'd be honoured. I've been watching him all day today, watching him hold Amy, and I wonder if I'm the only one who can see the sadness around him. I'm hoping that if anyone else does, they'll just put it down as his longing for a child of his own.

Thoughts of Sam vanish from my mind when I get to our bedroom, only to see the bed empty, the clothes not even slightly rumpled. I realise that there's only one place she can be, so that's where I go, and when I reach the door to the nursery, I just stand there, looking at a sight that I know I'll never tire of. She's sitting in the rocking chair beside the window, Amy in her arms, a peaceful smile on her face as she stares down at the baby.

I must move, or make some kind of motion, because she turns her head to me, her eyes locking on to mine. "She still asleep?" I keep my voice low as I cross the floor to her and she nods.

"I just couldn't let her go," she whispers. "I didn't want to go back out there…not just yet…"

One of my hands stretches out to touch her hair, and she leans into me, closing her eyes. I can see the strain on her face, the shadows under her eyes, and I know the toll that this day has taken on her. "It's going to be ok you know," I tell her, not for the first time.

"I know."

I reach down, taking Amy from her carefully, but she doesn't stir as I carry her to the cradle and lay her down. And just like always, I take a second to just look at her, but keep it shorter than usual this time, because her mother needs me more right now. She's leaning back in the chair when I turn back to her, her eyes closed once more, her hands clutching the arms of the chair. When I reach her, I crouch down so that our heads are level, reaching out to touch her cheek. "I love you."

One tear escapes at my words. Her voice is choked with more tears when she whispers, "I love you too."

My hand moves down from her cheek to her neck, and she opens her eyes when one finger hooks underneath the chain around her neck, allowing the diamond to sparkle as it emerges into the light. She's worn that ring around her neck ever since the night that I first gave it to her, ostensibly because the ring wouldn't fit on her finger. No-one but the two of us knows that she's never actually tried it on; her way of giving me an out if I wanted to take it.

"What do you say we try this on?" I ask her now.

Her eyes are huge as she looks at me. "Leo… are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure about anything." Even as I speak, I'm reaching around her neck, undoing the clasp so that I can slide the ring free of the chain. "I love you Ainsley. And I love Amy. She's my daughter. Our daughter. And I think we've waited long enough for this. I'm not going anywhere." I take her left hand in mine, and it's trembling so hard that I can hardly get the ring on it. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes." She looks down at her finger as I slide the ring onto it, her eyes widening as they meet mine when it slides on easily, a perfect fit.

Just like us.