Fic: Witness Protection 24a/25
Title: Witness Protection, part 24a and 24b/25
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Characters/Ships: Ben/Leslie, Chris/Ann, Andy/April, Ben/Pawnee, ensemble
Rating: R, this chapter
Word Count: ~ 12,300, posted in two parts for length
Summary: When corporate whistleblowers Ben Adams and Chris Robinson barely escape an attempt on their lives, they gladly accept the protection of the Federal Witness Protection program. What they don't count on is being sent to a city that feels more like something out of a movie or a sitcom than real life: Pawnee Indiana. An AU starting in "Master Plan."
Author's Notes:I'd hoped to have this up sooner, but this was a tough one with difficult emotions and it ran really long (but you don't usually mind that, so I won't apologize). As usual, I know I suck at responding to comments but I read and appreciate every single one of them, so keep them coming. Thank you all so much for sticking with this crazy AU of mine. Just one more left! Once again, I owe much thanks to saucydiva for her beta reading awesomeness. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23
Ben felt more than a little disoriented and anxious when, less two hours after Chris's arrival, he found himself in the waiting room of his mom's long-time family doctor, hearing the nurse call his name.
Chris grinned. "See-I told you they'd make room in the schedule for us once I explained the situation, and here we are!"
Ben didn't protest when Chris followed him back into the examination room. Chris smiled and chatted amiably with the nurse as she took Ben's weight and blood pressure, and a few minutes later the doctor appeared on the scene.
Ben felt a twinge of embarrassment that he couldn't even be trusted to handle a doctor's appointment. But then, really, he'd pretty much proven that he couldn't handle much of anything over the past couple of weeks.
"So," said the doctor, pulling his laptop workstation in front of him and looking up at Ben over his reading glasses, "what seems to be the problem?"
Chris met Ben's eyes with an encouraging smile and flashed him a big double thumbs-up.
Yeah. Okay. He could do this.
Ben coughed. "I-uh-was on Zoloft for about a month before moving to Partridge. For depression and anxiety. And-and I stopped taking it about two weeks ago when I moved here. It's been pretty rough. I wasn't-I wasn't ready to go off the meds. And I need a new prescription."
The doctor nodded slowly. "Okay. I can probably help you with that. Can you tell me a little more about your symptoms?"
Chris nodded encouragingly. Ben sighed. Here went nothing. He fumbled and mumbled his way through a lengthy description of his symptoms-nightmares, panic attacks, fear of leaving the house, lethargy, inability to complete any meaningful daily tasks, inability to communicate with the people he cares about, and on and on.
It was the first time Ben had really laid the entire ugly truth on the table for someone else to see. And it looked pretty damn bad.
"I can see why you needed the moral support," said the doctor, with a knowing glance at Chris.
Ben felt his face getting warmer. Whatever. It didn't matter what the doctor thought about his relationship with Chris. What mattered was that he never would have come here for help without his friend, so he didn't give a damn what it looked like to other people.
"I think another Zoloft prescription is a very good place to start," said the doctor, "but your issues could probably also benefit from some time with a good therapist. I can give you a recommendation, if you'd like."
Ben swallowed. He didn't like the idea of dredging through all his problems with a stranger. But the doctor was right. Chris was right. His mom was right. Leslie was right. He needed help. "Okay. Yeah. I'd like that."
Chris drove him straight from the doctor's office to the pharmacy to fill his prescription, and when they got back to the house, Chris sat him down with the phone and encouraged (forced) him to make an appointment with the therapist as soon as possible.
Ben's palms were sweaty and his voice shook as he talked through the schedule with the receptionist, but he was doing it. Progress was finally happening.
"So you don't have anything for two weeks?" he said.
"Hold on a minute," said Chris, swiping the phone from Ben's hand. "Hi," he said to the receptionist. "Sorry to jump in on your talk with my friend here, but he's a little too nervous to tell you that his situation is something of an emergency. He's in a very serious state of post traumatic stress disorder, and his friends and family are deeply concerned that he could fall into a life-threatening depressive episode at any time."
Ben frowned at Chris's somewhat exaggerated statements (Chris and his family did really see him that way, did they?), but said nothing. He needed to see if Chris could work his magic.
After a pause, Chris said, "Yes." Another pause. "May I ask your name? Marcie. Such a pretty name-and a lovely voice, too. Do you sing? That's fantastic. I wish I was in town long enough to visit your church and hear you perform. Well, Marcie, have you seen any stories about Ben Adams in the local news this past month? Yes-yes! That Ben Adams. Uh-huh. I agree. He is a hero. A national hero. But the things he's had to suffer to do the right thing have been difficult beyond imagining, and he very dearly needs some help. Yes. Absolutely. Can you? Oh, Marcie, that is literally the best news I've heard all day. Thank you so much for your help. Yes. It's perfect. I do hope I can hear you sing sometime. You're welcome. Take care."
Ben blinked in astonishment as Chris hung up the phone and announced that he's secured an appointment the day after tomorrow. Ben shook his head. "How?"
Chris grinned and pointed at him. "People skills. And the power of positive thinking. I'll have to give you a book about it, sometime."
Ben smiled and laughed, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. "Thanks. Really." This was all long overdue.
Chris patted him on the shoulder. "That's what friends are for."
~ ~ ~
When Ann turned her car onto the road that led up into the wooded hills above town, Leslie realized with sudden certainty where their surprise destination was going to be. She gripped the edge of her passenger seat and tried not to let an edge of panic show in her voice. "Um, I'm not so sure this is a good idea."
"I know what I'm doing," replied Ann, her eyes steady on the road ahead of them. "Trust me."
"I do, I do. I just-maybe I should call Dr. Nygard to see what he thinks about this, first."
Ann shook her head. "It's only a few minutes away. Please. Trust me."
Leslie wanted to trust her best friend, but with every mile closer they got to the Slippery Elm cabin, that trust got a little harder, and her heart beat a little faster. "I don't think I'm ready for this."
"You are. You'll see."
As much as she loved Ann, there had been times in the past when her judgment had proved questionable. Leslie was starting to think that today was one of those times.
She breathed out in relief when Ann pulled the car over to the side of the road. Thank god. She couldn't go to that cabin again. Not yet.
"We're here," said Ann, a sly smile on her face.
"We're-out in the middle of the woods? What? What am I missing?" Leslie raised an eyebrow.
"Get out of the car. Let's see if you can figure it out."
Leslie wasn't convinced, but got out of the car. She wanted to see where this was going.
Ann gestured at the woods around them. "Look familiar?"
"Not really," said Leslie glancing around.
Ann nodded. "I thought so. I memorized where it was after I first came out here in January, when you were still in the hospital. Everything was so surreal, I wanted it to make more sense. To be something other than a bad dream. So I drove out here. It was still a crime scene, covered in yellow police tape. I could still see the stain in the snow where you fell. That was enough to make it real. And enough that I'll never forget this place."
Leslie's heart froze as her eyes darted around the cluster of trees closest to the road. Oh crap. "Ann. . . I. . . I don't know if I can be here."
"Would you have recognized it if I hadn't said anything?" Ann held her gaze.
Leslie shook her head. She had to admit that she wouldn't have. It looked like any other stretch of woods.
Ann reached out to take her hand. "Come on."
Ann led her toward a cluster of three thick-trunked trees. The evening light filtered down through the small spring leaves, making a dancing pattern of shadow on the ground. Leslie held her breath.
"There it is," said Ann, pointing to one of the trunks. "Right there."
Leslie frowned. "There is what?"
"The place where the bullet went through. The bullet that hit you." Ann stepped up to the tree and touched a small dimple in the trunk, with a small glob of sap hardened around the base.
"Oh my god." Leslie crouched and squinted at the dimple, and poked at it with her finger. "It's so small."
"Look at the other side," said Ann.
Leslie circled the trunk. A hunk of bark had flaked off around a visible hole, about the size of a silver dollar. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and poked at the jagged hole. So that's what the doctor had meant when he said the bullet was deformed before it hit her. This was the tree that had saved her life. "Wow," she whispered.
"Yep. Wow," said Ann.
Leslie looked up to see her friend standing behind her, her arms folded. "It looks bad. But look up. Look at the rest of the tree," said Ann.
Turning her eyes skyward, Leslie held her breath again. Every branch of the tree was covered with the same bright, happy green leaves worn by its neighbors. It swayed in the breeze looking as lovely and carefree as a tree could look.
She nodded slowly. "Okay. I get it. You're making a big metaphorical point."
Ann shrugged. "I couldn't help myself. And you seemed to need it, after yesterday."
Leslie sighed. "Yeah. So. I am the tree."
"You are the tree." Ann wrapped her arm around Leslie's shoulders. "You are the tree. You'll always have a scar, but you're healing. Life is still going. And you're still as beautiful and wonderful as ever. You can live with the scars. It doesn't change who you are."
Leslie smiled. It was a nice sentiment. It might almost be enough to make her feel better-except she kept wondering why Ben couldn't be the tree, too? Why couldn't he keep going, in spite of his scars? She loved him. She loved him with her whole heart. But maybe she needed to accept the fact that maybe his scars were too deep. Maybe he couldn't go on the way she could.
Maybe, in spite of the trial and the threats and the fears being over and done with, they still wouldn't be able to make things work.
Maybe she needed to learn to be the tree alone.
"Thanks," she said softly, leaning her head against Ann's.
"Any time."
~ ~ ~
"Thank you for another fantastic meal, Doreen," said Chris, after finishing his second dinner in the Adams' residence. He rested his silverware on his plate and rose to help clear the table.
Doreen smiled. "You are very welcome, Chris."
As he helped her slide the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, Doreen wrapped an arm around his waist and murmured, "I can't thank you enough for coming. It's been less than two days, but he already seems so much better. I can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel."
"It's been my pleasure. Really. Just make sure he stays on his meds, and keep him going back to the therapist every week, and I think we'll pull him through this."
"I hope you're right." Doreen patted his shoulder.
Chris hoped he was right, too. He loved Ben, but he couldn't stay here and cheerlead for him for much longer. Now that Ben was back on the right track, it was time to leave. He had a life to re-start back in Atlanta. And Kelsey . . . Well, he still needed to figure that one out.
Later, after saying goodnight to Doreen, Chris sat beside Ben on the couch and held up a large scrapbook. It was time to see if he could push Ben back toward the one person that he knew could help Ben complete his journey of healing.
Ben's lips were tight as he stared at the book.
"Doreen showed this to me after school today. She says you haven't looked at it, yet," said Chris.
Ben looked down at his hands. "I just . . . couldn't face those memories, yet."
There was a time for being soft, and a time for being hard. Chris was inclined to think that the time for being soft had passed. "Leslie isn't dead, Ben. She isn't dead, and the man you were when you were with her isn't dead, either."
Ben cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough when he spoke. "I'm not so sure about that."
"I am." Chris hoped his firm conviction came through in his voice. "I still see glimpses of him, every once in awhile. But he's afraid to come out of hiding." Chris shook his head. "You don't need to be afraid anymore. Let us help you. Really talk to that therapist tomorrow, and let her start to help you. And look at this amazing scrapbook of the time you spent in Pawnee, and let it remind you of who you really are. You can come back from this. You can find yourself, again. I have one hundred percent faith in you."
Ben sniffed, tears glistening in his eyes. "Why? All I do is let people down. I get people hurt. Starting with you. Why do you even want to be around me anymore?"
Chris gripped Ben's shoulder and held his gaze. "Because you're my friend. And I'm yours. And I always will be."
Ben swiped at the moisture on his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."
"Maybe someday you'll figure it out. Start by reading this scrapbook. Please?"
"Okay." The word slipped out of Ben's mouth like an involuntary sigh. But he followed up with a purposeful nod. "Okay. I'll look at it." He held out his hand, and Chris put the scrapbook in it.
"I'll be leaving after breakfast tomorrow," he said. "But you can call me anytime-day or night. And I want you to promise to make it to that therapy appointment."
"I promise."
"Good. Now go get some sleep."
Chris watched Ben cradle the scrapbook against his chest as he walked to his room and closed the door behind him.
Chris wasn't sure how much good this visit did, but at least it was a start. Ben was back on the path of healing. And that was something.
~ ~ ~
Ben tossed and turned. Every few minutes he opened his eyes and stared at the dark rectangle sitting on his nightstand. He'd done his best to ignore the scrapbook ever since his mother showed it to him, but now it loomed there beside him, taunting him with the memories of the man he'd tried to be.
Chris was overly optimistic if he thought this book could help him be that man again.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes.
If it was so hopeless, why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?
He rubbed his forehead in resignation, sat up, and then clicked on his bedside lamp.
The scrapbook felt heavy in his hands. The title, picked out in bold bright-patterned paper letters, read, "Ben in Pawnee."
Simple. Right to the point.
He held his breath, and opened it.
The first page held a copy of the minutes of the meeting during which Paul had introduced him and Chris to the department directors, with handwritten annotations. "I thought they were both super attractive, but while Chris was all smiles, Ben looked unhappy and nervous. But I stopped caring and started hating Ben as soon as Paul announced why they were there. Sorry!"
Then came an invitation to April's birthday party at the Snakehole Lounge, along with Leslie's commentary: "I yelled at Ben again. Sorry! But he seemed to like it . . ."
The next page held a napkin from Sullivan's, with Leslie's scrawled notation. "I thought Ben was jittery and weird. But I was starting to like him. Until he shut the government down later that day."
Then a flyer for the Freddy Spaghetti concert with a snapshot of him and Chris standing on the sidelines. He'd had no idea anyone took a picture of him that day. How did she ever track it down?
The handwritten caption on that page read: "Ben to the rescue!"
He found himself smiling as memories of his awkward flirting came flooding back into his mind. God, he'd been a mess. But somehow, she'd brought the best out in him.
With every page and every one of her notes, all the memories that he'd been afraid to revisit came flooding back. All the crazy up and downs. All the accomplishments. All the friends.
For a half an hour he lost himself in the memories. Pawnee was the first place he'd been truly happy in a long, long time.
Once he came to the end, he closed the book and held it against his chest. Chris seemed to think he could still go back, but after his disaster of a conversation with Leslie, he was pretty sure he'd burned his last bridge.
Maybe there's still a chance. Maybe she'll still forgive me.
He closed his eyes and imagined a world where Leslie and Ron and Andy and all the others would welcome him back.
It seemed so far out of reach. But so had the Harvest Festival. So had reviving the community education program. So had getting Leslie to feel for him the same way he felt for her.
Pawnee was a place where the impossible came true.
Slowly, he drifted off to sleep.
~ ~ ~
Chris embraced Ben one last time before getting in his rental car and driving out of Partridge, feeling cautiously optimistic. Ben had a new light in his eyes. And his first therapy appointment that afternoon.
But Chris needed to do a little more before he headed back to Atlanta to start his reborn life. He pointed his car toward Indiana.
~ ~ ~
Ben's heart pounded as he sat down across from the therapist, Dr. Houston.
"I follow the news, so I have something of an idea of what you've been through the past few years," she said, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. She wasn't holding a notepad or any recording device. Wasn't she supposed to take notes?
Ben nodded. "Yeah. It's been-it's been tough."
Dr. Houston held his gaze. "First and foremost, right now, I'm here to listen. I'm not going to offer advice or suggestions until I know where you're at, mentally and emotionally. So for today I want you to do most of the talking. I know the bare bones of what you've gone through, but the news stories only ever scratch the surface. So, Ben, why don't you tell me what you need to talk about? Where do want to start?"
"Indiana," he said. "I was in witness protection in Indiana."
"Go on." She nodded.
Ben looked down at his hands, his mind replaying all the memories that the scrapbook had jogged loose. "I was happy there. For the first time in years, I was happy. I had friends. I had a job that I liked-that actually helped people. And I met the most amazing woman I've ever known. I-I fell in love with her. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to follow through with the trial and testify. I just wanted to stay with her forever." He shook his head. "And I stayed too long. And I got her shot. And I left her like that, broken and bleeding. I left her. I still have trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that she survived. That she's okay. And when I tried to talk to her a few days ago, I fucked it up. I just . . . I don't know how to come back from that."
Dr. Houston nodded slowly. "That sounds like a pretty good place to start. What's her name?"
"Leslie. Her name is Leslie."
~ ~ ~
Leslie didn't recognize the number on her caller ID when her phone rang at 8:30 that morning, but she recognized the voice at the other end of the line the instant he spoke.
"Leslie Knope! I'm so excited to hear your voice again!"
"Oh my god. Chris!" Her jaw dropped. Of all the people in the world, he was one of the last she'd expected to hear from again.
"Hello! I just spent the night in Indianapolis, and I'm actually on my way into Pawnee even as we speak."
Leslie's mouth opened even wider. "What?"
"I'd love to sit down with you and chat for a little while. Can you meet me at The Jitter House for some coffee in about fifteen minutes? It's important."
Something in his voice told her that she couldn't pass this meeting up. "I'll be there."
She beat him to the coffee shop by a few minutes, and her heart pounded in her chest when he stepped through the door. She greeted him with a hug and smile, and waited for him to order his coffee before they sank down into a cozy corner table together. Leslie politely answered all his questions about the how her health was and how the whole gang was doing, and then politely asked a few questions about what he was doing now, and how his reunions with loved ones went. She even took the time to make arrangements to ship the several boxes of his abandoned possessions that currently sat in her garage to him in Atlanta. After almost ten minutes of these pleasantries, she couldn't stand it anymore-the question that had been on the tip of her tongue the whole time came tumbling out of her mouth. "Have you heard anything from Ben? He's not doing well, and I'm worried about him."
"Ben is exactly the reason I'm here," said Chris.
Leslie's could hardly stay in her seat as he recounted his story of the past few days in Ben's company, getting him back on track with his meds and getting him to a therapist. "I think he's taken the crucial first steps, but he needs a few more pushes in the right direction to get him to the point where he's ready to let himself heal," said Chris soberly.
She gripped her coffee cup so hard it started to crumple. "I wish there was something I could do."
"There is. Go to him. Take a long weekend, and go to him."
Her breath caught in her throat and she shook her head. "He's made it clear that he doesn't want to talk to me. I can't violate his personal space like that."
"What's perfectly clear to me," said Chris, meeting her eyes with an intense gaze, "is that there is nothing in the world that he wants more than to talk to you. You are constantly at the forefront of his mind. But he's too crippled by anxiety and fear and guilt and remorse to invite you back into his life. So you're going to have to be a little pushy. You didn't used to have a problem with that, if I recall. And neither did Ben."
Leslie's breath came a little faster at Chris's words (did Ben really feel that way?), but her lips curved up in a mirthless smile. "No. I didn't. But things have changed."
"Not as much as you think." Chris reached out to place his hands over hers. "Don't over think this. Don't stop to analyze. Do you want to be with him?"
She swallowed and nodded, her whole chest fluttering with nerves. "Yes."
"Then go to him. The sooner the better. Stop worrying about it, and just do it."
It was the permission she'd been waiting for. Why had she waited at all?
Because I was afraid he didn't love me anymore. That's why.
Since when had she let fear stop her from doing anything she believed in?
Since I almost died. But this can't kill me. The worst it can do is break my heart-but I've survived that before. I can survive it again, if it comes down to it. But it might not come to that . . .
She nodded. "You're sure he wants to see me?"
"Without a doubt."
Leslie squeezed her lips together, her chest swelling with her new sense of determination. "Okay. I'm gonna go for it."
Chris grinned. "Literally nothing in the world would make me happier."
Leslie jumped to her feet. "I've got to go pack. I'm not waiting another day."
"Good." Chris rose to his feet to give her a parting hug.
"Thank you so much for coming and giving me this push. I've been about ready to explode the past few weeks. This is exactly what I needed."
Chris squeezed her hand. "I was hoping you'd feel this way. Before you go-I have a question. Do you think Ann Perkins would object to seeing me? I would very much like to clear the air with her about a few things."
Leslie's heart warmed and she squeezed his hand back. "I think she'd like that. She doesn't work this afternoon. Go ahead and give her a call."
~ ~ ~
The odd mixture of excitement, guilt and regret that filled Chris's chest when he saw Ann again made it hard to break the ice, but after a few awkward minutes of sitting across a table at the juice bar they once frequented, he found a topic they could both ease into: Leslie.
Ann knit her brows and shook her head. "So you just told her to go, and she went? I've been trying to get her to do something for weeks. To call him, or to go see him, or to get over him and put it behind her. Seriously. Weeks. And all it takes is one fifteen minute conversation with you, and she's out of here?"
Chris shrugged. "Sometimes people need an outside impetus to get them to leave their comfort zone to strike out into unknown territory. I suppose my arrival was the final push she needed."
Ann rolled her eyes and sipped her smoothie through a straw. "That's so not fair."
"I've found that life rarely is. We just have to make the best of what it gives us," said Chris. That particular truth had hit home more times than he could count over the past few years.
Ann nodded slowly. "You're right. Absolutely right."
"Which brings us to . . . well, to us," said Chris.
"I guess so." Ann took a deep breath and sat up a little taller. He could see the vulnerability behind her façade of strength, and it made his heart ache.
"I wish I could have told you the truth myself. I wish I'd found a way."
"Me too," she said quietly. "But I understand why you couldn't."
Chris nodded. "I'm glad for that much."
"But you shouldn't have gotten me into a relationship. I mean, I probably came on too strong, but still, you should have stuck to a few one-night stands. Not something that meant something." Ann's eyes flicked downward. "At least, it meant something to me. I mean-I'm fine. I'm over it. I've been dating around. It's good. But it did hurt. Especially since I thought we'd finally become friends."
The ache in his heart intensified. "We were friends. And it did mean something to me, too. As often as I told myself that it wasn't real, a part of me always wanted it to be. You truly are an amazing, intelligent, beautiful woman, Ann Perkins. And it was a privilege to have you in my life. But you're right. I abused that privilege. I used you. And I was wrong. I'm sorry."
Ann sighed and then smiled up at him. "I think this the third time you've apologized for the same mistake."
"That's how wrong I was. One apology wasn't enough."
"Well," Ann toyed with her straw, "since you did come all this way in person, I think I can forgive you."
Chris smiled back, the ache in his heart easing. If they'd met in another time, in another place, maybe this could have been something real. But, nevertheless, he was proud to call her a friend. "Thank you, Ann Perkins. I'm happy to hear it."
Ann grinned and took another sip of her smoothie. "It's good to see you again, Chris. I'm really happy you can finally get your real life going."
"Me too."
Her smile faded. "But I'm worried about Leslie. Do you think he's going to break her heart, again? Because I might have to drive to Minnesota to punch him the face, if he does, and my car really needs new tires first."
Chris chuckled. Ann had such a delightful sense of humor. "No. I really don't think he will. I rather expect quite the opposite."
Ann raised her eyebrows. "Well. I hope for his sake, and the sake of my poor car, that you're right. I don't think I can take much more of this emotional roller coaster he's been putting Leslie through."
"I have high hopes that particular ride is coming to an end."
"Good." Ann narrowed her eyes. "Now how about you? How are things with Kelsey?"
Chris leaned back, at a loss for words. "I-I-"
Ann frowned. "I'm sorry. It didn't go well?"
Chris shook his head. "Well, actually, I haven't really spoken with her yet."
"Why not?" Ann gave him an arch look.
"The timing didn't seem right. I want to ease into things. We have interacted on Facebook a few times." He felt silly admitting it.
"You've chatted on Facebook? Well, that's something, I guess." Ann looked unconvinced.
Chris found himself shrinking as he made his next confession. "We haven't actually chatted. We've just . . . liked each other's posts a few times." A few dozen times. But he didn't want to admit to all the embarrassing details.
"Oh my god, Chris. What the hell is the problem?" Ann threw up her hands. "Is she married or something?"
He shook his head. "No. I have every reason to believe that she's still single."
"I thought she was the love of your life? So why haven't you done anything about it? "
His throat got tighter. Yes. She was. So why hadn't he done anything? "I honestly don't know."
Ann met his eyes with an exasperated look. "It seems like Leslie and Ben aren't the only ones who need a little outside push to get their lives going again. You seem a little stuck, yourself."
Chris nodded, the full extent of his cowardice finally sinking in. "I think you might be right."
"Well, consider yourself pushed. If you don't do something to get in touch with her as soon as you leave Pawnee, I'm going to get on your Facebook and start harassing you daily. Got it?"
"Got it." Chris smiled wryly. He had no doubt that she would follow through with her threat. "Leslie is very lucky to have a friend like you. And so am I."
Ann smiled back. "Leslie is very lucky to have a friend like you, too. And so am I."
Not done yet! I'm just splitting due to length. Find part 24b right here!
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Characters/Ships: Ben/Leslie, Chris/Ann, Andy/April, Ben/Pawnee, ensemble
Rating: R, this chapter
Word Count: ~ 12,300, posted in two parts for length
Summary: When corporate whistleblowers Ben Adams and Chris Robinson barely escape an attempt on their lives, they gladly accept the protection of the Federal Witness Protection program. What they don't count on is being sent to a city that feels more like something out of a movie or a sitcom than real life: Pawnee Indiana. An AU starting in "Master Plan."
Author's Notes:I'd hoped to have this up sooner, but this was a tough one with difficult emotions and it ran really long (but you don't usually mind that, so I won't apologize). As usual, I know I suck at responding to comments but I read and appreciate every single one of them, so keep them coming. Thank you all so much for sticking with this crazy AU of mine. Just one more left! Once again, I owe much thanks to saucydiva for her beta reading awesomeness. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23
Ben felt more than a little disoriented and anxious when, less two hours after Chris's arrival, he found himself in the waiting room of his mom's long-time family doctor, hearing the nurse call his name.
Chris grinned. "See-I told you they'd make room in the schedule for us once I explained the situation, and here we are!"
Ben didn't protest when Chris followed him back into the examination room. Chris smiled and chatted amiably with the nurse as she took Ben's weight and blood pressure, and a few minutes later the doctor appeared on the scene.
Ben felt a twinge of embarrassment that he couldn't even be trusted to handle a doctor's appointment. But then, really, he'd pretty much proven that he couldn't handle much of anything over the past couple of weeks.
"So," said the doctor, pulling his laptop workstation in front of him and looking up at Ben over his reading glasses, "what seems to be the problem?"
Chris met Ben's eyes with an encouraging smile and flashed him a big double thumbs-up.
Yeah. Okay. He could do this.
Ben coughed. "I-uh-was on Zoloft for about a month before moving to Partridge. For depression and anxiety. And-and I stopped taking it about two weeks ago when I moved here. It's been pretty rough. I wasn't-I wasn't ready to go off the meds. And I need a new prescription."
The doctor nodded slowly. "Okay. I can probably help you with that. Can you tell me a little more about your symptoms?"
Chris nodded encouragingly. Ben sighed. Here went nothing. He fumbled and mumbled his way through a lengthy description of his symptoms-nightmares, panic attacks, fear of leaving the house, lethargy, inability to complete any meaningful daily tasks, inability to communicate with the people he cares about, and on and on.
It was the first time Ben had really laid the entire ugly truth on the table for someone else to see. And it looked pretty damn bad.
"I can see why you needed the moral support," said the doctor, with a knowing glance at Chris.
Ben felt his face getting warmer. Whatever. It didn't matter what the doctor thought about his relationship with Chris. What mattered was that he never would have come here for help without his friend, so he didn't give a damn what it looked like to other people.
"I think another Zoloft prescription is a very good place to start," said the doctor, "but your issues could probably also benefit from some time with a good therapist. I can give you a recommendation, if you'd like."
Ben swallowed. He didn't like the idea of dredging through all his problems with a stranger. But the doctor was right. Chris was right. His mom was right. Leslie was right. He needed help. "Okay. Yeah. I'd like that."
Chris drove him straight from the doctor's office to the pharmacy to fill his prescription, and when they got back to the house, Chris sat him down with the phone and encouraged (forced) him to make an appointment with the therapist as soon as possible.
Ben's palms were sweaty and his voice shook as he talked through the schedule with the receptionist, but he was doing it. Progress was finally happening.
"So you don't have anything for two weeks?" he said.
"Hold on a minute," said Chris, swiping the phone from Ben's hand. "Hi," he said to the receptionist. "Sorry to jump in on your talk with my friend here, but he's a little too nervous to tell you that his situation is something of an emergency. He's in a very serious state of post traumatic stress disorder, and his friends and family are deeply concerned that he could fall into a life-threatening depressive episode at any time."
Ben frowned at Chris's somewhat exaggerated statements (Chris and his family did really see him that way, did they?), but said nothing. He needed to see if Chris could work his magic.
After a pause, Chris said, "Yes." Another pause. "May I ask your name? Marcie. Such a pretty name-and a lovely voice, too. Do you sing? That's fantastic. I wish I was in town long enough to visit your church and hear you perform. Well, Marcie, have you seen any stories about Ben Adams in the local news this past month? Yes-yes! That Ben Adams. Uh-huh. I agree. He is a hero. A national hero. But the things he's had to suffer to do the right thing have been difficult beyond imagining, and he very dearly needs some help. Yes. Absolutely. Can you? Oh, Marcie, that is literally the best news I've heard all day. Thank you so much for your help. Yes. It's perfect. I do hope I can hear you sing sometime. You're welcome. Take care."
Ben blinked in astonishment as Chris hung up the phone and announced that he's secured an appointment the day after tomorrow. Ben shook his head. "How?"
Chris grinned and pointed at him. "People skills. And the power of positive thinking. I'll have to give you a book about it, sometime."
Ben smiled and laughed, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. "Thanks. Really." This was all long overdue.
Chris patted him on the shoulder. "That's what friends are for."
~ ~ ~
When Ann turned her car onto the road that led up into the wooded hills above town, Leslie realized with sudden certainty where their surprise destination was going to be. She gripped the edge of her passenger seat and tried not to let an edge of panic show in her voice. "Um, I'm not so sure this is a good idea."
"I know what I'm doing," replied Ann, her eyes steady on the road ahead of them. "Trust me."
"I do, I do. I just-maybe I should call Dr. Nygard to see what he thinks about this, first."
Ann shook her head. "It's only a few minutes away. Please. Trust me."
Leslie wanted to trust her best friend, but with every mile closer they got to the Slippery Elm cabin, that trust got a little harder, and her heart beat a little faster. "I don't think I'm ready for this."
"You are. You'll see."
As much as she loved Ann, there had been times in the past when her judgment had proved questionable. Leslie was starting to think that today was one of those times.
She breathed out in relief when Ann pulled the car over to the side of the road. Thank god. She couldn't go to that cabin again. Not yet.
"We're here," said Ann, a sly smile on her face.
"We're-out in the middle of the woods? What? What am I missing?" Leslie raised an eyebrow.
"Get out of the car. Let's see if you can figure it out."
Leslie wasn't convinced, but got out of the car. She wanted to see where this was going.
Ann gestured at the woods around them. "Look familiar?"
"Not really," said Leslie glancing around.
Ann nodded. "I thought so. I memorized where it was after I first came out here in January, when you were still in the hospital. Everything was so surreal, I wanted it to make more sense. To be something other than a bad dream. So I drove out here. It was still a crime scene, covered in yellow police tape. I could still see the stain in the snow where you fell. That was enough to make it real. And enough that I'll never forget this place."
Leslie's heart froze as her eyes darted around the cluster of trees closest to the road. Oh crap. "Ann. . . I. . . I don't know if I can be here."
"Would you have recognized it if I hadn't said anything?" Ann held her gaze.
Leslie shook her head. She had to admit that she wouldn't have. It looked like any other stretch of woods.
Ann reached out to take her hand. "Come on."
Ann led her toward a cluster of three thick-trunked trees. The evening light filtered down through the small spring leaves, making a dancing pattern of shadow on the ground. Leslie held her breath.
"There it is," said Ann, pointing to one of the trunks. "Right there."
Leslie frowned. "There is what?"
"The place where the bullet went through. The bullet that hit you." Ann stepped up to the tree and touched a small dimple in the trunk, with a small glob of sap hardened around the base.
"Oh my god." Leslie crouched and squinted at the dimple, and poked at it with her finger. "It's so small."
"Look at the other side," said Ann.
Leslie circled the trunk. A hunk of bark had flaked off around a visible hole, about the size of a silver dollar. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and poked at the jagged hole. So that's what the doctor had meant when he said the bullet was deformed before it hit her. This was the tree that had saved her life. "Wow," she whispered.
"Yep. Wow," said Ann.
Leslie looked up to see her friend standing behind her, her arms folded. "It looks bad. But look up. Look at the rest of the tree," said Ann.
Turning her eyes skyward, Leslie held her breath again. Every branch of the tree was covered with the same bright, happy green leaves worn by its neighbors. It swayed in the breeze looking as lovely and carefree as a tree could look.
She nodded slowly. "Okay. I get it. You're making a big metaphorical point."
Ann shrugged. "I couldn't help myself. And you seemed to need it, after yesterday."
Leslie sighed. "Yeah. So. I am the tree."
"You are the tree." Ann wrapped her arm around Leslie's shoulders. "You are the tree. You'll always have a scar, but you're healing. Life is still going. And you're still as beautiful and wonderful as ever. You can live with the scars. It doesn't change who you are."
Leslie smiled. It was a nice sentiment. It might almost be enough to make her feel better-except she kept wondering why Ben couldn't be the tree, too? Why couldn't he keep going, in spite of his scars? She loved him. She loved him with her whole heart. But maybe she needed to accept the fact that maybe his scars were too deep. Maybe he couldn't go on the way she could.
Maybe, in spite of the trial and the threats and the fears being over and done with, they still wouldn't be able to make things work.
Maybe she needed to learn to be the tree alone.
"Thanks," she said softly, leaning her head against Ann's.
"Any time."
~ ~ ~
"Thank you for another fantastic meal, Doreen," said Chris, after finishing his second dinner in the Adams' residence. He rested his silverware on his plate and rose to help clear the table.
Doreen smiled. "You are very welcome, Chris."
As he helped her slide the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, Doreen wrapped an arm around his waist and murmured, "I can't thank you enough for coming. It's been less than two days, but he already seems so much better. I can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel."
"It's been my pleasure. Really. Just make sure he stays on his meds, and keep him going back to the therapist every week, and I think we'll pull him through this."
"I hope you're right." Doreen patted his shoulder.
Chris hoped he was right, too. He loved Ben, but he couldn't stay here and cheerlead for him for much longer. Now that Ben was back on the right track, it was time to leave. He had a life to re-start back in Atlanta. And Kelsey . . . Well, he still needed to figure that one out.
Later, after saying goodnight to Doreen, Chris sat beside Ben on the couch and held up a large scrapbook. It was time to see if he could push Ben back toward the one person that he knew could help Ben complete his journey of healing.
Ben's lips were tight as he stared at the book.
"Doreen showed this to me after school today. She says you haven't looked at it, yet," said Chris.
Ben looked down at his hands. "I just . . . couldn't face those memories, yet."
There was a time for being soft, and a time for being hard. Chris was inclined to think that the time for being soft had passed. "Leslie isn't dead, Ben. She isn't dead, and the man you were when you were with her isn't dead, either."
Ben cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough when he spoke. "I'm not so sure about that."
"I am." Chris hoped his firm conviction came through in his voice. "I still see glimpses of him, every once in awhile. But he's afraid to come out of hiding." Chris shook his head. "You don't need to be afraid anymore. Let us help you. Really talk to that therapist tomorrow, and let her start to help you. And look at this amazing scrapbook of the time you spent in Pawnee, and let it remind you of who you really are. You can come back from this. You can find yourself, again. I have one hundred percent faith in you."
Ben sniffed, tears glistening in his eyes. "Why? All I do is let people down. I get people hurt. Starting with you. Why do you even want to be around me anymore?"
Chris gripped Ben's shoulder and held his gaze. "Because you're my friend. And I'm yours. And I always will be."
Ben swiped at the moisture on his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."
"Maybe someday you'll figure it out. Start by reading this scrapbook. Please?"
"Okay." The word slipped out of Ben's mouth like an involuntary sigh. But he followed up with a purposeful nod. "Okay. I'll look at it." He held out his hand, and Chris put the scrapbook in it.
"I'll be leaving after breakfast tomorrow," he said. "But you can call me anytime-day or night. And I want you to promise to make it to that therapy appointment."
"I promise."
"Good. Now go get some sleep."
Chris watched Ben cradle the scrapbook against his chest as he walked to his room and closed the door behind him.
Chris wasn't sure how much good this visit did, but at least it was a start. Ben was back on the path of healing. And that was something.
~ ~ ~
Ben tossed and turned. Every few minutes he opened his eyes and stared at the dark rectangle sitting on his nightstand. He'd done his best to ignore the scrapbook ever since his mother showed it to him, but now it loomed there beside him, taunting him with the memories of the man he'd tried to be.
Chris was overly optimistic if he thought this book could help him be that man again.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes.
If it was so hopeless, why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?
He rubbed his forehead in resignation, sat up, and then clicked on his bedside lamp.
The scrapbook felt heavy in his hands. The title, picked out in bold bright-patterned paper letters, read, "Ben in Pawnee."
Simple. Right to the point.
He held his breath, and opened it.
The first page held a copy of the minutes of the meeting during which Paul had introduced him and Chris to the department directors, with handwritten annotations. "I thought they were both super attractive, but while Chris was all smiles, Ben looked unhappy and nervous. But I stopped caring and started hating Ben as soon as Paul announced why they were there. Sorry!"
Then came an invitation to April's birthday party at the Snakehole Lounge, along with Leslie's commentary: "I yelled at Ben again. Sorry! But he seemed to like it . . ."
The next page held a napkin from Sullivan's, with Leslie's scrawled notation. "I thought Ben was jittery and weird. But I was starting to like him. Until he shut the government down later that day."
Then a flyer for the Freddy Spaghetti concert with a snapshot of him and Chris standing on the sidelines. He'd had no idea anyone took a picture of him that day. How did she ever track it down?
The handwritten caption on that page read: "Ben to the rescue!"
He found himself smiling as memories of his awkward flirting came flooding back into his mind. God, he'd been a mess. But somehow, she'd brought the best out in him.
With every page and every one of her notes, all the memories that he'd been afraid to revisit came flooding back. All the crazy up and downs. All the accomplishments. All the friends.
For a half an hour he lost himself in the memories. Pawnee was the first place he'd been truly happy in a long, long time.
Once he came to the end, he closed the book and held it against his chest. Chris seemed to think he could still go back, but after his disaster of a conversation with Leslie, he was pretty sure he'd burned his last bridge.
Maybe there's still a chance. Maybe she'll still forgive me.
He closed his eyes and imagined a world where Leslie and Ron and Andy and all the others would welcome him back.
It seemed so far out of reach. But so had the Harvest Festival. So had reviving the community education program. So had getting Leslie to feel for him the same way he felt for her.
Pawnee was a place where the impossible came true.
Slowly, he drifted off to sleep.
~ ~ ~
Chris embraced Ben one last time before getting in his rental car and driving out of Partridge, feeling cautiously optimistic. Ben had a new light in his eyes. And his first therapy appointment that afternoon.
But Chris needed to do a little more before he headed back to Atlanta to start his reborn life. He pointed his car toward Indiana.
~ ~ ~
Ben's heart pounded as he sat down across from the therapist, Dr. Houston.
"I follow the news, so I have something of an idea of what you've been through the past few years," she said, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. She wasn't holding a notepad or any recording device. Wasn't she supposed to take notes?
Ben nodded. "Yeah. It's been-it's been tough."
Dr. Houston held his gaze. "First and foremost, right now, I'm here to listen. I'm not going to offer advice or suggestions until I know where you're at, mentally and emotionally. So for today I want you to do most of the talking. I know the bare bones of what you've gone through, but the news stories only ever scratch the surface. So, Ben, why don't you tell me what you need to talk about? Where do want to start?"
"Indiana," he said. "I was in witness protection in Indiana."
"Go on." She nodded.
Ben looked down at his hands, his mind replaying all the memories that the scrapbook had jogged loose. "I was happy there. For the first time in years, I was happy. I had friends. I had a job that I liked-that actually helped people. And I met the most amazing woman I've ever known. I-I fell in love with her. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to follow through with the trial and testify. I just wanted to stay with her forever." He shook his head. "And I stayed too long. And I got her shot. And I left her like that, broken and bleeding. I left her. I still have trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that she survived. That she's okay. And when I tried to talk to her a few days ago, I fucked it up. I just . . . I don't know how to come back from that."
Dr. Houston nodded slowly. "That sounds like a pretty good place to start. What's her name?"
"Leslie. Her name is Leslie."
~ ~ ~
Leslie didn't recognize the number on her caller ID when her phone rang at 8:30 that morning, but she recognized the voice at the other end of the line the instant he spoke.
"Leslie Knope! I'm so excited to hear your voice again!"
"Oh my god. Chris!" Her jaw dropped. Of all the people in the world, he was one of the last she'd expected to hear from again.
"Hello! I just spent the night in Indianapolis, and I'm actually on my way into Pawnee even as we speak."
Leslie's mouth opened even wider. "What?"
"I'd love to sit down with you and chat for a little while. Can you meet me at The Jitter House for some coffee in about fifteen minutes? It's important."
Something in his voice told her that she couldn't pass this meeting up. "I'll be there."
She beat him to the coffee shop by a few minutes, and her heart pounded in her chest when he stepped through the door. She greeted him with a hug and smile, and waited for him to order his coffee before they sank down into a cozy corner table together. Leslie politely answered all his questions about the how her health was and how the whole gang was doing, and then politely asked a few questions about what he was doing now, and how his reunions with loved ones went. She even took the time to make arrangements to ship the several boxes of his abandoned possessions that currently sat in her garage to him in Atlanta. After almost ten minutes of these pleasantries, she couldn't stand it anymore-the question that had been on the tip of her tongue the whole time came tumbling out of her mouth. "Have you heard anything from Ben? He's not doing well, and I'm worried about him."
"Ben is exactly the reason I'm here," said Chris.
Leslie's could hardly stay in her seat as he recounted his story of the past few days in Ben's company, getting him back on track with his meds and getting him to a therapist. "I think he's taken the crucial first steps, but he needs a few more pushes in the right direction to get him to the point where he's ready to let himself heal," said Chris soberly.
She gripped her coffee cup so hard it started to crumple. "I wish there was something I could do."
"There is. Go to him. Take a long weekend, and go to him."
Her breath caught in her throat and she shook her head. "He's made it clear that he doesn't want to talk to me. I can't violate his personal space like that."
"What's perfectly clear to me," said Chris, meeting her eyes with an intense gaze, "is that there is nothing in the world that he wants more than to talk to you. You are constantly at the forefront of his mind. But he's too crippled by anxiety and fear and guilt and remorse to invite you back into his life. So you're going to have to be a little pushy. You didn't used to have a problem with that, if I recall. And neither did Ben."
Leslie's breath came a little faster at Chris's words (did Ben really feel that way?), but her lips curved up in a mirthless smile. "No. I didn't. But things have changed."
"Not as much as you think." Chris reached out to place his hands over hers. "Don't over think this. Don't stop to analyze. Do you want to be with him?"
She swallowed and nodded, her whole chest fluttering with nerves. "Yes."
"Then go to him. The sooner the better. Stop worrying about it, and just do it."
It was the permission she'd been waiting for. Why had she waited at all?
Because I was afraid he didn't love me anymore. That's why.
Since when had she let fear stop her from doing anything she believed in?
Since I almost died. But this can't kill me. The worst it can do is break my heart-but I've survived that before. I can survive it again, if it comes down to it. But it might not come to that . . .
She nodded. "You're sure he wants to see me?"
"Without a doubt."
Leslie squeezed her lips together, her chest swelling with her new sense of determination. "Okay. I'm gonna go for it."
Chris grinned. "Literally nothing in the world would make me happier."
Leslie jumped to her feet. "I've got to go pack. I'm not waiting another day."
"Good." Chris rose to his feet to give her a parting hug.
"Thank you so much for coming and giving me this push. I've been about ready to explode the past few weeks. This is exactly what I needed."
Chris squeezed her hand. "I was hoping you'd feel this way. Before you go-I have a question. Do you think Ann Perkins would object to seeing me? I would very much like to clear the air with her about a few things."
Leslie's heart warmed and she squeezed his hand back. "I think she'd like that. She doesn't work this afternoon. Go ahead and give her a call."
~ ~ ~
The odd mixture of excitement, guilt and regret that filled Chris's chest when he saw Ann again made it hard to break the ice, but after a few awkward minutes of sitting across a table at the juice bar they once frequented, he found a topic they could both ease into: Leslie.
Ann knit her brows and shook her head. "So you just told her to go, and she went? I've been trying to get her to do something for weeks. To call him, or to go see him, or to get over him and put it behind her. Seriously. Weeks. And all it takes is one fifteen minute conversation with you, and she's out of here?"
Chris shrugged. "Sometimes people need an outside impetus to get them to leave their comfort zone to strike out into unknown territory. I suppose my arrival was the final push she needed."
Ann rolled her eyes and sipped her smoothie through a straw. "That's so not fair."
"I've found that life rarely is. We just have to make the best of what it gives us," said Chris. That particular truth had hit home more times than he could count over the past few years.
Ann nodded slowly. "You're right. Absolutely right."
"Which brings us to . . . well, to us," said Chris.
"I guess so." Ann took a deep breath and sat up a little taller. He could see the vulnerability behind her façade of strength, and it made his heart ache.
"I wish I could have told you the truth myself. I wish I'd found a way."
"Me too," she said quietly. "But I understand why you couldn't."
Chris nodded. "I'm glad for that much."
"But you shouldn't have gotten me into a relationship. I mean, I probably came on too strong, but still, you should have stuck to a few one-night stands. Not something that meant something." Ann's eyes flicked downward. "At least, it meant something to me. I mean-I'm fine. I'm over it. I've been dating around. It's good. But it did hurt. Especially since I thought we'd finally become friends."
The ache in his heart intensified. "We were friends. And it did mean something to me, too. As often as I told myself that it wasn't real, a part of me always wanted it to be. You truly are an amazing, intelligent, beautiful woman, Ann Perkins. And it was a privilege to have you in my life. But you're right. I abused that privilege. I used you. And I was wrong. I'm sorry."
Ann sighed and then smiled up at him. "I think this the third time you've apologized for the same mistake."
"That's how wrong I was. One apology wasn't enough."
"Well," Ann toyed with her straw, "since you did come all this way in person, I think I can forgive you."
Chris smiled back, the ache in his heart easing. If they'd met in another time, in another place, maybe this could have been something real. But, nevertheless, he was proud to call her a friend. "Thank you, Ann Perkins. I'm happy to hear it."
Ann grinned and took another sip of her smoothie. "It's good to see you again, Chris. I'm really happy you can finally get your real life going."
"Me too."
Her smile faded. "But I'm worried about Leslie. Do you think he's going to break her heart, again? Because I might have to drive to Minnesota to punch him the face, if he does, and my car really needs new tires first."
Chris chuckled. Ann had such a delightful sense of humor. "No. I really don't think he will. I rather expect quite the opposite."
Ann raised her eyebrows. "Well. I hope for his sake, and the sake of my poor car, that you're right. I don't think I can take much more of this emotional roller coaster he's been putting Leslie through."
"I have high hopes that particular ride is coming to an end."
"Good." Ann narrowed her eyes. "Now how about you? How are things with Kelsey?"
Chris leaned back, at a loss for words. "I-I-"
Ann frowned. "I'm sorry. It didn't go well?"
Chris shook his head. "Well, actually, I haven't really spoken with her yet."
"Why not?" Ann gave him an arch look.
"The timing didn't seem right. I want to ease into things. We have interacted on Facebook a few times." He felt silly admitting it.
"You've chatted on Facebook? Well, that's something, I guess." Ann looked unconvinced.
Chris found himself shrinking as he made his next confession. "We haven't actually chatted. We've just . . . liked each other's posts a few times." A few dozen times. But he didn't want to admit to all the embarrassing details.
"Oh my god, Chris. What the hell is the problem?" Ann threw up her hands. "Is she married or something?"
He shook his head. "No. I have every reason to believe that she's still single."
"I thought she was the love of your life? So why haven't you done anything about it? "
His throat got tighter. Yes. She was. So why hadn't he done anything? "I honestly don't know."
Ann met his eyes with an exasperated look. "It seems like Leslie and Ben aren't the only ones who need a little outside push to get their lives going again. You seem a little stuck, yourself."
Chris nodded, the full extent of his cowardice finally sinking in. "I think you might be right."
"Well, consider yourself pushed. If you don't do something to get in touch with her as soon as you leave Pawnee, I'm going to get on your Facebook and start harassing you daily. Got it?"
"Got it." Chris smiled wryly. He had no doubt that she would follow through with her threat. "Leslie is very lucky to have a friend like you. And so am I."
Ann smiled back. "Leslie is very lucky to have a friend like you, too. And so am I."
Not done yet! I'm just splitting due to length. Find part 24b right here!