Rating: PG
Pairing: Leo/Ainsley
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: There's a change in Leo
Author's Note: For the LiveJournal Writer's Choice "Bare" challenge

Leo is pretty sure that no-one else has noticed, as he walks down the hall towards the White House Counsel's Office, that there is something different about him. After all, the change is, on the surface, fairly small; it's the meaning behind it that's significant, and there's only one person in the entire building aside from himself who's ever commented on it. That's who he's going to see now, and he doesn't want to get side-tracked by anyone or anything, so he nods to people in greeting, giving every impression of being a busy man with no time to stop and talk.

There's only one person that he wants to talk to anyway, and the first words out of his mouth are going to be, "I'm sorry." He will apologise for being so stubborn, for clinging to old habits and old memories, and he will tell her that he is ready to move on with his life, to move on with her. He will show her his left hand then, the ring finger bare for the first time in thirty years and more, and it will be a sign to her that he's serious about her, about them. Maybe then he'll be able to get the sound of the door slamming out of his mind, banish the image of her hurt, tear-stained face, the twin ghosts that have haunted him for the last week since the big fight they'd had that had only ended when she'd stormed out of his hotel room.

The funny thing is, now that he's finally taken off the ring, he doesn't know why he hadn't done it earlier. Certainly, it wasn't that he was waiting for Jenny to come back to him; he's known for a long time that they were in the past. Just like he's known that his future lies with Ainsley, even if they can't go public with it just yet, not with the election just around the corner. The last thing this administration needs is any more bad publicity, and that's the Chief of Staff screwing the Deputy White House Counsel would undoubtedly be, even if it's nowhere near as sordid as that makes it sound. In fact, it's not sordid at all, he's certainly not ashamed, not of them at any rate. He's ashamed that it's taken him so long to realise how important she is to him, ashamed that he's never realised how much he was hurting her by dating her and wearing Jenny's ring, ashamed that it's taken a week of silence for him to come to his senses.

But none of that matters now, because his finger is bare, the ring is put away safely, should Mallory ever have use of it, and the only thing he wants to do is hold her.

So he strides towards her office like the man on a mission he is, and when he gets there, he walks right through the open door, all ready to fabricate an excuse to get her alone in the room.

He's not ready to see Oliver Babish standing there.

He's certainly not ready for Oliver to turn to him, breathing a heavy sigh, a sheet of paper in his hand. "I was looking for Ainsley," Leo tells him, and Oliver sighs again, reaches down behind him and picks up a plain white envelope.

"You're too late," he says. "One for you, and one for me."

Leo doesn't understand, but there's a part of him that understands all too well, just doesn't want to believe it. "What?" he asks, narrowing his eyes.

"She's gone Leo," says Oliver then, and there's a measure of sympathy in his tone that makes Leo think that the other man knows more than he's saying. The suspicion is confirmed when Oliver steps closer to him, lays a hand on his shoulder as he gives him the envelope which, Leo now sees, has his name written on it in Ainsley's neat, firm hand. "Shame," Oliver says. "She was one hell of a lady."

With that, he's gone, leaving Leo staring at the envelope in his hands. The world seems to be moving in slow motion as he opens it, pulls out the sheet of paper, sees words he never wanted to see printed there.

"Dear Mr McGarry,

It is with regret that I resign my position as Deputy White House Counsel, effective immediately."

Then there is her signature, and that is all. But there is another slip of paper in the envelope, letter sized, hand-written, which reads simply, "I'm sorry."

He stands there for a long time, staring at the words, as if he can make her appear by the sheer force of his will. Then slowly, his gaze shifts, moves to the shiny surface of her desk, the desk that is empty of any and all legal documents, any and all personal effects. There is nothing to indicate that she once worked there; it could be anyone's desk, and for the next few days or weeks, until they find her replacement, that's exactly what it will be.

But for now, it is bare, as bare as the ring finger of his left hand, and the irony is enough to give him a headache, is bitter in his mouth.

He never wanted any of this, just wanted her, but as he turns around, leaves the bare desk behind him, he realises that he did too little, too late.