Go Big, Go Home, Part 5 of 7
Rating: The series is R; this instalment is PG-13 at most (mild language; references to adult situations, as the kids call it these days).
Length: Almost 9000 words (this instalment HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?)
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters.
Timeline/Spoilers: Takes off from somewhere between "Pawnee Rangers" and "Meet and Greet" - AU from there. Basically another way of thinking through the questions posed by Season 4.
Summary: Leslie and Ben both have some work to do after they break up. Hijinks ensue. If you can say that about responsible grownups like these two.
Part One... Part Two... Part Three... Part Four.
craponaspatula is very excited about the illustrations - and she's not the only one! Ron F**ing Swanson! They are awesome! Huge thanks to rikyl and stillscape for all the discussions of character and food questions, many of which in fact related to Parks and Rec/this piece of writing (we, uh, like to talk about food). And to the ficathon for all the prompts. Please note: there is a bedhead sighting in this chapter; I repeat, bedhead makes an appearance. Ben’s bedhead, to be precise.
Comments are the bestest. They tell me what you’re interested in, whether you’re reading at all, and what you think of all of this. Anything surprising? Anything you didn’t find believable? Anything make you giggle like Andy Dwyer? Tell me!
She really wishes Ann would let her eat Nutri-Yum bars again. They can't be that bad, can they? And she really needs some extra energy right now. Or some time to sleep. Or maybe just a massage. No, no thinking about massages. No time for that kind of thing. She'll sleep after the campaign is over.
Only two more weeks before election day, so hopefully the granola bars and nuts and raisins and cheese Ann stocks her desk and kitchen with will keep her going just long enough. Plus, waffles. A girl's gotta eat.
Her schedule has always been busy, but now it's gone bananas. Elizabeth wasn't kidding when she said she would own Leslie's life. There’s been at least one campaign event every single day, sometimes two, and up to half a dozen on a Saturday or Sunday. Most of her Parks work has been happening between 11 PM and 3 AM and, even for Leslie, that’s burning the midnight oil.
Right now it’s late Friday afternoon, and she's trying to get out of the office to get to a meet and greet at the grocery store to catch weekend shoppers. She’s just putting on her coat to dash off, running ten minutes late already, her briefcase loaded with paperwork for the weekend, and, oh crap, she's going to have to come in on the weekend to set up the diorama that's going to the community center to celebrate the relaunch of the adult basketball tournament, because the court models won't fit in her car, but she has to go to the Spring Preview exhibit of the Horticultural Society (title: "Seriously, When Spring Comes You'll Be Glad You Planned Ahead For Your Garden") and then spend a few hours canvassing in the raccoon-infested part of town, and where is she going to find the time, when Jerry sticks his head in her doorway.
Even for Jerry, he looks like crap. Pale, sweaty, shaky. More than usual, that is. “Leslie, do you have a minute?”
“Yeah?”
“Mind if I sit down?”
Normally Leslie does mind when Jerry sits down, because it takes him so long to get up again, but right now it just seems prudent. “Sure, just let me grab those files...”
Jerry settles into the now-empty chair with an air of relief, and hands her a piece of paper as if it’s radioactive. “I got this email. I didn’t know what to do with it. I thought you should at least see it.”
In the instant it takes her to read the “From” and a few of the sentences in it, her mouth hangs agape.
Jerry’s agitated. “I swear, Leslie, she sent it to me by mistake. She’d sent me an email to complain about lewd shapes at the children’s pottery exhibit just a few minutes before that, so I figure... If Gayle ever found this... but she uses someone else’s name, not mine, in the email. You believe me, right?”
Leslie snaps back, “Well, duh, Jerry. It’s pretty obvious it’s not meant for you, I mean, come on.”
There’s a moment of silence as Leslie looks back down at the email. Except that she can hear Jerry breathing.
Leslie takes a deep breath. “OK, Jerry, for starters, nobody should read this, nobody at all. Don’t tell anybody about this. It’s top secret.”
Jerry looks relieved. “You can count on me, Leslie. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, yet.” She’s already dialing William Barnes’ number, but gets voicemail. “Hi, it’s Leslie. I have something that we need to talk about, about the campaign. Call me as soon as you can.” She considers calling Elizabeth, too, but decides to hold off until William calls her back.
“Leslie! Are you going to make this public?”
“What? No! No. Well. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” It’s incendiary. It’s shocking. It could be useful. Shouldn’t she be thinking of it as useful?
It really opens up a window on... well, let's just say she did not expect this.
“Leslie, that was sent to me by accident. I don’t think it would be right for you to use it for political gain. I thought you’d be able to maybe tell her it got sent to me or something just so she’d know. I thought it would be less embarrassing coming from a woman.”
“Shut up, Jerry, let me think.” Is she going to use it? She knows Barnes will say she should. She doesn’t have to call her mother to know that she would agree with him. But is that what she wants to do? It’s... it’s serious. It’s about someone’s life.
But the things that have been said about her during the campaign, they still make her blood boil. And politics is a dirty business, isn’t it? Hasn’t she heard that kind of thing a million times from her mother, and from others? She's read enough political biographies to know it's not all kissing babies and triumphantly signing complex-yet-completely-fair-and-well-thought-out policies into law.
Did Leslie really think she could get through an entire campaign and keep her hands clean?
Somehow it feels different now that it’s actually happening, though.
“OK, Jerry, listen to me. Nobody aside from you and me will know what was in that email for now. I will tell them that I have... information on an opponent which may change the course of the election but that’s it. But we’ll have to talk it over.”
“All right, Leslie. I trust you. But please, just keep me out of it.”
Leslie smiles at him. God, poor Jerry. He really does look worried. That can't be good for him. “I’ll do my best. Thanks for trusting me with this. Now go home to Gayle and the girls. I’ll keep you informed.”
When Barnes gets back to her, he grills her a bit, but she sticks to her promise and doesn’t say what information she has, who it relates to, or how she got it. Even so, he can fill in the blanks pretty well, and he starts forming a whole media plan.
"No, I need to sleep on it. And I need to hear what people think. This would affect the whole campaign. It's not a decision I can make right now."
The agree on a team meeting first thing the next morning. Which, she has to be reminded, equals 8:30 AM, not 6:30 AM. Ann, that beautiful, gracious, welcoming parakeet, agrees to host the meeting at her house.
That night, Leslie dreams of Ben, of running for office against him when they were both 18. She finds out that he was having an affair with his hot young civics teacher, who looks a lot like Nancy Pelosi, actually, and she tells everyone about the scandal, and the look on his face makes her feel horrible about herself, but she keeps going, twisting the knife in every chance she gets.
She wakes up before she finds out who won.
******************************
What wakes her up is that horrible song by Dave Matthews. You and me, together. Ew. What a revolting way to start the day. She's got to try to keep Andy from messing with the phone.
She groans and grabs it to see who’s texted.
Donna.
My spidey-senses are tingling about this. Get him here. Now.
April sticks her head under the pillow to think. It smells like Andy. She wonders when it was, the last time they did laundry. Maybe it’s just about time to do it again. Or maybe in a few more weeks. Whatever.
After a moment or two she’s schemed enough. She gets up, gets as ready as she wants to, which isn’t very, and heads into the kitchen.
“I need a ride.”
Ben puts his Economist down on the kitchen counter next to his coffee and toast (that disgusting whole wheat that April avoids unless they are out of sourdough or raisin bread, which happens quite a bit, actually), and looks up at her in surprise. He’s in a grey t-shirt and old faded jeans and sneakers. He actually looks kind of normal for once. Except for his hair, which is sticking up all over the place.
“Why?” He stretches out the word, sounding suspicious. Which is reasonable enough, she guesses. Especially under the circumstances. It’s just after 8 AM on a Saturday, which is not an hour at which they usually make eye contact, let alone actually speak. Certainly not ask for favors. Which, they all know, will never, ever be reciprocated.
“Because I have to go somewhere.” Duh.
“Uh huh. And why would this involve me? I’m just, you know, asking.” Why doesn’t he just say yes already? As if he’s going to say no. This whole conversation is a stupid waste of time.
“Because Andy took the car when he went out.”
“Andy’s out already?” Ben’s whole face goes up along with his eyebrows. Andy being up at all before noon on a weekend is completely bizarre, she’s got to agree.
“Yeah. So?” She glares, figuring aggression is the way to keep him from asking nosy questions about Andy’s whereabouts, and she’s right.
He waves his hand in a gesture of surrender. He’s so easy. “Nothing. Nothing. And where do you need to go in such a hurry?”
God, he sounds like somebody’s dad. Not hers, but... somebody’s. “Just somewhere. I need to go there right now. It’s not far. You can come back and read more about...” she uses a finger to spin the magazine around to see the article he’s reading “... foreign investment in Turkey when you get back. In fact,” she says, snatching the magazine up, “I’ll read it to you on the way. I’m sure it’ll be gripping.”
Ben sighs and rubs his eyes. Clearly giving up. It was only a matter of time. “Where exactly do you need to go so desperately?”
“Lot 48.”
“Fine. Whatever.” That’s convenient, she doesn’t even need to lie about why she’s going there.
April translates the article into Spanish as she reads, so it’s a pretty amusing car ride, from her point of view, at least. When it’s a term she doesn’t know in Spanish, like “commodities” or “disintermediation” or “value-added reseller,” she just uses gibberish, so within a couple of minutes, it’s degenerated into nonsense, and she’s starting to sound a bit like Janet Snakehole, and even Ben’s looking a bit less grumpy at that. He even chuckles once or twice, despite himself. Plus it’s a nice sunny day, with that very-early spring feeling in the air, and even April can be a little bit happy at the prospect of no more slush.
As they get closer to Lot 48, he takes the route that takes them past Ann's house, and she can see that he recognizes Andy’s car, and then Donna’s, and Ron’s and Tom’s, and Chris’. And certainly Leslie’s. And there are just as many that he probably doesn’t recognize, because she doesn’t either. He pulls over as close as he can still get to Ann’s house, around the corner from the park.
Is he mad? He’s just looking straight ahead.
“OK, I’m going to guess that you were actually coming here, so off you go.”
She doesn’t move. Now she actually has to do some work. “You have to come too.”
“What? No, I don’t. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I,” he looks over at her and points at himself. He’s definitely mad. He’s probably not even sure why he’s mad. And he’s definitely not sure why he’s showing her he’s mad. So he’s mad at himself for that. He’s such an idiot. “I wasn’t invited. And you didn’t have to lie to me about where you were going.”
“Yeah, I kind of did. To get you to bring me. But now you have to come inside. That’s the whole point.”
He exhales and looks exasperated. “What’s going on?”
“Leslie’s campaign is in trouble. This is an emergency meeting to fix it.”
This makes him a bit anxious, but he tries to play it cool. “What’s the problem? I know she’s still getting a bit hammered in the press, but...”
April shrugs. “I don’t know. Something big happened. I didn’t really listen. But you have to come in. Don’t worry, she doesn’t know you’re coming.”
She knows she’s getting to him. He can’t even keep up the facade that there’s nothing going on, that this is all supposed to be neutral for him.
He’s kind of... leaking.
He knits his eyebrows together and looks pained. “April, what are you doing this for? What do you care?”
She turns to look hard at him and pauses a moment. “Because I love Leslie, and I want her to win. She needs all the help she can get right now. Apparently. And you can help. You know stuff that other people don’t. She needs you. And she’ll listen to you.”
He’s just staring at her, one eyebrow raised. He’s not moving.
Aside from that whole media pizza party/home invasion thing, which he kind of got forced into, he’s been trying so hard to stay away from the campaign, casually leaving the room when Andy and April talk about campaign events, or carefully piling up the literature they leave around the house into tidy stacks that he stashes in the corner of the living room, or averting his eyes and hiding out in his room when they had Leslie’s banner in the dining room for a few days. (Not that she’d ever admit it, but even April couldn’t stand to see that, so she made Andy roll up the banner and drive it to Leslie’s house, saying it was distracting them when they played foosball.)
But she knows that things are different at City Hall, too. He’s stayed far away from the Parks Department for months now, and he asks Andy to deliver documents to Leslie, and asks her to deliver way more phone messages to Ron that he honestly expects her to remember and pass on, and, come to think of it, Ron usually actually listens when April does that, too.
Overall, Ben’s been working pretty hard to avoid Leslie in general and the campaign in particular. So now he’s tempted, but she hasn’t given him quite enough yet to tip him over.
Which means she’s going to have to spend her knowledge she’s been saving up all this time.
“And I know you’ll do it because you love her. Even though you broke up so she could run for office. At least I assume that’s what happened. Because you’re an idiot.”
His eyes widen, but he doesn’t break her gaze. She waits. He’s not gonna outstare April Ludgate. Please.
Finally he slumps back into his seat, rubs his forehead with one hand. “Fuck.”
He drops his hand and turns his head to look over at her, without moving the rest of his body. “You really knew all that? How did you know?”
“Sometimes I pay attention. Come on. We’ll hide in the back.” April quirks one side of her mouth up, and raises an eyebrow. She reaches over and claps him on the knee twice, quickly, and gets out of the car.
She doesn’t look back but she hears him behind her, closing his door and walking towards the house. She’s exhausted. That’s more than she’s said to anyone who isn’t Andy in, like, months. Maybe afterward they can get breakfast. Although Ben will have to pay, since she left her wallet at home.
She's pretty sure she can talk him into it.
******************************
Leslie looks around the room and realizes it’s time to get this show on the road. She’d been so busy conferring in the kitchen with William, Elizabeth, her mother, and Mr. Kernsten, that she hadn’t realized how quickly Ann’s living room had filled up. She can see that Gayle is here, which is probably going to help calm Jerry’s nerves, at least. He’s been a basket case since last night. She can’t even see everyone in the back, though. Sometimes it really sucks to be so short.
She catches Ann’s eye, and Ann nods at her. She shakes her head to get her hair out of her eyes, and smooths down her gray blazer. At least she’s wearing that new blue blouse, the one Ann said would make her eyes pop from a distance. That should help a bit. Although she should be confident from within. But clothes that look nice do help. Sometimes. Is that shallow of her? Maybe that’s shallow of her.
She wished she knew what the hell she was going to do. Or what she should do. What would Hillary do about this? No clue.
Maybe Hillary wouldn’t be the most appropriate person to consult on this particular issue, come to think of it.
OK, it’s showtime. Ready. Deep breath. Here we go. Big smile. Confident.
“Can I have your attention? Thanks. Thanks. Good morning everyone. Thank you so much for coming. You’ve been called here today for this emergency meeting so that we can discuss a matter of strategic importance. As you are aware, our campaign has been attacked pretty relentlessly by both of the other teams and the media, and we think this is going to continue to have a very negative impact on my chances to get elected...”
“Leslie, can’t you just get past this with a positive message?” Chris pipes up.
“Our polling numbers show that we are being seriously affected by this problem,” Barnes steps in, not quite smoothly. “Leslie’s, uh, lively history as a bureaucrat, and status as a single woman just don’t play well in these campaign dynamics, and not enough people know her personally to overcome that. We’re doing as many events and appearances as we can but it’s probably not going to be enough with the limited time we have left.”
Time to step back in. She’s been learning how to keep control of these meetings and the trick is to keep control. “Thanks, both of you. The point is, things don’t look good for my candidacy at the moment, despite our best efforts. Perhaps until now. Some information has come into our possession which has the potential to seriously alter or maybe even reverse the course of the campaign. It’s about one of my opponents. It would seriously discredit them and expose their faults. For now, the only people who know are me, and the one person who found this information by accident. Just know that it’s got the potential to make a big impact. But, the thing is, it’s personal information.”
“So let me get this straight,” Ron interjects. “In order to beat their smear tactics, you want to stoop to their level.”
“Well, not quite...” Leslie trails off. He’s not wrong. Not quite exactly. Is he?
“Leslie, with the 24-hour news cycle, it all means that if you don’t use the information you have against your opponent, they’ll find a way to use it against you.” Tom pipes up.
“That doesn’t even make sense, Tom,” counters Ron.
“Frankly, I don’t see this as being much of a choice,” Barnes jumps in. “If a reporter had found it instead of us, it would be all over the media in the time it takes Joan Callamezzo to get her TV makeup on.”
“How would you even use this information?” asks Chris.
“Traditionally, in Pawnee,” Marlene tilts her head at Barnes and Mr. Kernsten, “Information like this is dropped off anonymously at a reporter’s doorstep and nature takes its course, as it were. That’s an option here. And then at least we’ll have had a chance to plan our response and strategy going forward, which is more than the other candidates would be able to say. They’d be caught by surprise, while we’ll have our message ready to go.” Barnes nods at this.
“If this information is as impactful as Leslie expects it to be, it would dominate the media for the two weeks remaining in the campaign,” Elizabeth notes. “It would be the main story right up until election day, for sure. We would have to abandon our other messages about Leslie’s platform and focus on this. Which would be fine if she wound up winning, of course.”
“OK, well, we can debate this all day but I suspect most of know what our own thoughts are on the subject, and only one person’s opinion really matters here. Leslie, what do you want to do?” Ron frowns at her.
Leslie glances across the room at Jerry, who looks pleadingly back at her. Faintly, she can feel Ann next to her, trying to keep her steady. Strong, smart, beautiful Ann. She knows everyone is focused on her, waiting for her to make a decision.
She also knows that she does not appear calm to this roomful of people who know her so well. She looks down at the floor and wills herself to breathe.
What does she want to do?
Suddenly, from the back of the room, she hears his voice.
“Leslie, don’t do this.”
Shocked, she jerks her head up.
The whole room swivels to look, and now she can see him. He’s standing by the door, behind April, arms folded. He’s in that grey t-shirt, the one that she remembers borrowing last summer, it’s so soft, and it smelled like him when she put it on, and his hair is all... he looks like he just rolled out of bed... She hasn’t seen him except at all-department briefings for at least a month, and she’s even missed some briefings lately because of campaign events. What is he doing here? How did he even know about this? She glances over at April, who is just staring blankly back at her, but...
"Whatever this information is, don’t use it. Just tell your own story. Be yourself. And let the voters decide based on that."
“I don’t mean to sound condescending, but that seems a bit naive.” Barnes can’t seem to help himself.
Ben doesn’t take the bait; his voice remains measured. "I don’t think we’ve officially met. My name is Ben Wyatt. You can look me up on Altavista. Or even Google. I think you'll find I may be a few things, but naive about municipal politics definitely isn't one of them."
She hasn't been able to catch her breath. She looks at Ben. "But if I lose, then this will all have been... for nothing. All of it." Her voice has trailed off.
Losing you. The rest is just work. Work is something I can do. You've been the only real sacrifice. What if I lose the election, after I've already lost you?
He half-smiles, and she steadies, waiting for what he has to say. The room is very quiet.
“That's not true, Leslie, not at all. Lots of successful politicians don't win their first campaigns. You'll have set the stage for your next race. You’ll have built your relationship with the public, and you'll spend the next couple of years deepening it, and you’ll win next time, even if you don’t this time. One of the worst things about politics right now is that most people don’t pay attention to anything past the next opinion poll.” His eyes flick to Barnes.
He’s talking the way he does when it’s just them. Well, the way he used to. She’s never heard him use this gentle tone with anybody else but her, alone with her. But her whole world, practically, is in this room, listening to him, watching both of them.
He continues, almost softly, looking intently at her. “Using private information to take someone else down personally in order to win, that’s not the way you think; it’s not why you wanted to run. It’s not who you are."
And she realizes that he was thinking this way when he broke up with her. That he knew her political career should be thought of in terms of decades, not months. That he was looking ahead, far, far ahead. For her. Because she couldn’t do it for herself, not then.
Now he’s doing it again. Because she still can't do it for herself, apparently.
And of course, he’s right. About all of it.
She blinks at him, and inhales. She looks around the room. “OK, folks, well, I may be letting some of you down with this decision,” she glances over at William Barnes, and her mother beside him, “but I, we, are not using this information. None of us. It’s just not how we do things in a Knope campaign. This election means an awful lot to me,” she fixes her gaze back on Ben, “and that’s why I even considered this option, and I fully realize that this decision means I’m probably going to lose. But it’s not the right thing to do.” She looks around the room again, and smiles. “So now let’s focus on what we’ve been doing since we started - running a great campaign - a clean campaign, an honorable campaign - until the last vote is cast!”
She can barely hear the cheers around her. Ben smiles at her from the back of the room, still with his arms crossed in front of him. Then he looks down at the floor, one hand rubbing his neck, and the spell between them is broken.
“Good call, Knope.” Ron clasps her hand.
“Thanks, Ron. I really hope it works out.”
“There are more important things than winning.”
They look at each other. “Yeah, there are.” She raises an eyebrow and shrugs a little.
Ann envelopes her in a hug. “That was the right move, Leslie. I’m so proud of you!”
“Thanks.” Leslie uses this as an excuse to wipe away a tear from her eye. She smiles at Ann.
She looks over to see Kernsten conferring with Barnes, and he catches her eye and winks. He goes back to talking with William, who looks stressed out but not angry.
She doesn’t even look around for Ben; she can feel that he’s already slipped away.She does look around for -- “Jerry! Get over here!” and pulls him aside.
“Leslie, I’m so relieved that you decided not to use that email. I would hate to be responsible for--”
She hisses at him, “Shush, Jerry! Did you print any other copies of it?”
“No, just the one I gave you.”
“And did you forward it to anyone?”
“Oh gosh, Leslie, no!”
“OK. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to call Ben. Ask him to meet you at the office as soon as possible. Today. Get him to do whatever he can to help you remove the traces of that email from the city email system. I think he has administrator privileges. But under no circumstances is anybody to call IT or anyone else for help with this. Just you and Ben, as much as you can do. But nobody should break any rules. Only what he’s actually allowed to do, if anything. And he shouldn’t read the email or see who it’s from. Got it?”
“Right. Just me and Ben. Don’t break any rules. He can’t see it. What are you going to do with the printed copy I gave you?”
“Don’t worry about that. I need to... I’ll get rid of it. And call me when you are done with the email. Don’t text me or email me or leave a voicemail about it. Talk to me live. Just you. And Jerry? Uh, tell Ben... tell him I said thanks."
******************************
That evening, Leslie is sitting in a tiny cafe in a tinier town about 30 miles from Pawnee. She’s got a small envelope in front of her, and her red phone is sitting on the table next to it. She’s feels calm, almost serene, for the first time in what feels like weeks. Waiting.
She looks around at the other patrons - an unassuming bunch. This place isn’t fancy; it’s attached to a gas station. Even so, for some of these people, she figures it’s a bit of a treat to go out for supper. The food here is really good, especially the pie, but all she has in front of her is two cups of coffee. One of them is black; the other has cream and sugar in it. But she isn’t drinking either of them. People at the other tables are talking quietly to each other. Nobody is paying her any attention at all. It would almost be relaxing, if it weren’t for what she has to do here.
Suddenly Marcia Langman slides into the seat opposite her. She’s dressed in a sharp suit, hair smooth as always.
“I got your text. Whatever the big mystery is, make this quick. I have a Ladies’ Auxiliary for Women dinner to speak at in an hour. I don’t have time for your childish cloak-and-dagger game. Some of us have households to run as well as campaigns, you know. And some of us are running successful campaigns at that.”
Despite her best intentions, Leslie bristles. “Oh for crying out loud, Marcia, try not to be a total raging she-demon for five minutes, can’t you?”
Marcia scowls. “I don’t have to take this from you, Ms. Knope.” Contempt dripping from her voice, she gets up to leave.
Crap on a candlestick. Need to dial this down a bit. Leslie changes her tone of voice, tries to sound forceful but conciliatory. “No, wait. Wait. Sit down. Hear me out.I have something important to tell you, that I think you will agree you needed to know.” Leslie looks hard at her. OK, maybe she still kind of glares.
Marcia looks at her watch, officiously. “You have three minutes.” She folds her hands in front of her and stares down her nose, literally looks down her nose at Leslie, as if daring her. “Make them count.”
Leslie takes a deep breath and tries to reclaim her earlier calm. This is her Hillary moment; she pulls together her stateswomanly demeanor. “Before I start, I want to tell you that I am here alone. Nobody knows where I am right now or who I’m with, and I’m not recording any of this. And for your sake, I sincerely hope you aren’t either.” She picks up her phone and shows Marcia that it’s turned off.
“I have something of yours. I figured at some point you would realized you had sent to the wrong person and I thought you should know where it wound up.” Leslie slides the envelope across the table, and waits for Marcia to open it and read the contents.
Marcia blanches the second she reads the first couple of words. She looks up at Leslie, eyes wide in shock.
“How did you get this?”
“The person you sent it to by mistake brought it to me. The two of us are the only ones who have seen it. Some other people know that I received some information about an opponent, but not what the information is, or who it’s about.”
“Oh.” She needs a moment to take this in; Leslie gives it to her. Marcia’s elegant hands are just barely perceptibly shaking. Leslie slides the black coffee in her direction. Marcia shakes a packet of artificial sweetener into it, stirs, and takes a sip.
Then she squares her shoulders. “So I guess this is the courtesy heads-up, then. When,” her voice wavers just a bit, “can I expect to hear from Joan, and Perd, and Shauna?”
Leslie shakes her head emphatically, holding Marcia’s gaze. “No, Marcia, we aren’t releasing this. Or leaking it. Or anything. You are holding the only paper copy of this email in existence, and we’ve done our best to erase it completely from the email system you sent it to. I promise you. When you get back to your computer, you’ll see who person who received it was, but they haven’t told anyone about it except me, and I believe them, and you can too. They just want to be left out of it. I just figured that at some point you’d realize you’d sent it to the wrong person and that you’d realize you were in jeopardy. That’s why I called you here today.”
“You’re not going to use this? But why not? Without this, you’re...”
“Probably going to lose, yes, I know.”
“I don’t understand.” Marcia’s voice is flat.
“Listen, Marcia, I really want to win. Don’t get me wrong. I really, really, really want to win. You have no idea what I would do to win,” Leslie scrunches up her face a bit at this, “What I’ve already done. But not this way. Not taking you down personally. You have kids, and I just have no idea what this might have done to them. Or to your husband. Or even to you. Despite everything you've said about me, that still matters.”
“Oh.”
They sit in silence for a few long moments.
“Leslie, I have something to tell you, too.”
Leslie glances up in surprise. “Really? What’s that?”
“I have a cousin who used to work at City Hall. He’s retired now, and moved to Muncie to live near his grandchildren, but he still visits here every so often. His name is George. He was in maintenance.”
“Oh?” Leslie looks at Marcia. Waits. Tries not to betray anything with her face, but knows she’s failing. Marcia is trying not to look smug, and failing at that, too.
“What he told me, about how he saw you and your boss at the memorial service, and how worried you both were about it, I was thinking of using.”
“Oh.” Leslie looks down at her hands. She’s picking at one fingernail. She puts her hands down under the table. Ben’s face flashes before her - this morning, looking so seriously at her; months ago, breaking up with her with tears brimming in his eyes. His vulnerability, too, in their relationship.
“Why haven’t you?”
“I didn’t think I needed to, to win. The other stuff, what's already on the public record, all of that has been doing the job for me.”
Leslie laughs hollowly. “Yes, the other stuff is doing just fine.”
“So I sat on it. Kept it for later. I asked George to promise that he wouldn’t gossip about it. To save the information for when I might need it. Maybe this election, maybe the next one.”
Leslie can’t help but smile at this. She’s got a lot to learn about politics, clearly, if she’s making Marcia freaking Langman look like a chess grandmaster or a CIA strategist or something. Is she the only person in Pawnee who’s only thinking about this election, and not the ones years down the road? She thinks of Ben again, talking about the next election this morning. Which he won't be in town to see, she remembers.
“Marcia, why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know that I’m not going to use it. Not ever. Not after this. I owe you. This isn’t just politics any more. It’s personal.”
Leslie lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. The idea that her campaign could have ruined Ben’s career after everything...
She stares at the table. “Look, Marcia, what we were doing was against the rules, and it ended... it ended so I could run. And I should have figured it might come out. But I would hope you wouldn’t use it against the man in question. He doesn’t deserve that. He really, really doesn’t.”
Marcia snorts. “Well, he had to put up with you - after that he deserves a bit of a break, I should think!”
Leslie looks up, sees that Marcia is smiling a little, and laughs. They look at each other. Just two women talking now.
Marcia considers, looking at Leslie curiously. “Was it serious?”
Leslie twists up the side of her mouth. “Yes, as it turns out.”
Marcia leans forward a little. “Did you love him?”
Leslie lets out a short bark of a mirthless laugh. “Still do. Realized it just as we were breaking up for my campaign. And now it looks like he’ll be leaving Pawnee. Whatever he felt before has probably been squashed by this whole thing. So, that’s been fun.”
Marcia sits back in her seat. “Wow. What a mess.”
“Yup, I have to agree. Honestly, though, Marcia, you seem to be in an even worse mess than I am. Speaking personally, that is.”
Marcia looks around the cafe, and out the window, absently. “Yes, it would seem that I am.”
“You may not believe me when I say this, but I really hope you can work it out somehow.”
“Thanks.” Marcia laughs sharply. “I was going to wait, but maybe I should tell you now. I am planning to drop out of the race.”
Leslie lets out a breath with a huff. “Wow. Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”
This makes Leslie laugh. Then she considers. “Well, if I think about it, does it really matter to me? If you up and quit, any of your supporters will probably go to Doug Forbes. And I don’t think I have time to overcome all the negative publicity you’ve sent my way, whether it’s against just him or both of you. So either way, I lose. My only shot probably would have been if this,” Leslie waves at the email that Marcia seems to be trying to fold into an origami crane, “had gone public, but you’d stayed in, and then at least I’d look better by comparison. And Pawneeans will vote for anyone except a hypocrite. Look at Dexhart. Did all that crazy stuff, but never once claimed he wasn’t a total scumbag, and kept on winning.”
“That’s true. No offense, but I really hadn’t thought about the impact on you if I were to quit the race. But I think you’re right. About all of it.”
“Why are you going to drop out, though?”
“I’ll get a chance to work on my marriage. You’re not the only one who knows about this affair, you see. My husband seems to have found out. Things at home are... challenging, shall we say, at the moment.”
Leslie’s voice is quiet. “That’s awful.”
Marcia shrugs, twitches up a corner of her mouth. “Yes, yes it is. Awful. But at least I have a chance to try to save my marriage. It’s worth saving. And try to keep this whole thing private. I was going to announce my withdrawal on Monday.”
“Well.”
“Well.”
They each take a sip of coffee.
Marcia draws a deep breath, and then says, “If we both run again in a couple of years, I’m totally gonna kick your ass.”
Leslie half-smiles and tosses her head a bit. “Bring it on, Marcia. And the fine citizens of Pawnee will have to decide what happens in the end, won’t they?”
“Yeah, well, if we’re any examples, maybe the citizens of Pawnee aren’t making the best decisions lately.”
Leslie raises her coffee cup and says, “Well, to the citizens of Pawnee, and their crappy decisions!”
“And to Doug Forbes, probably our next City Councillor!”
They clink their coffee cups and take a sip in silence.
Marcia tips her head. “Thanks again, though, Leslie. I’m sure you at least considered using this information.”
“I did. And I might have. I’m not proud of that. But someone convinced me not to.”
“Thank them for me.”
“Nah. Thank him yourself by living up to your promise of keeping your cousin quiet.”
“Ah. I see.”
‘Yeah.”
Around them, the quiet hubbub of the cafe sounds like normal life. But it sounds kind of far away.
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Lilah seems to think knocking down blocks is the most fun thing in the world. Which it probably is, when you're seven months old.
Paul is talking to Ben on the phone, with Lilah sitting in front of him, knocking down towers of blocks as fast as he sets them up for her. They’re all watching a basketball game together, more or less. Ben and Paul are both the kind of sports fans who get incensed at a bad call or excited about a great play, no matter which team made it, so they pay only intermittent attention to the game until they find something to yell at the TV about.
Some traditions from your childhood you just don’t outgrow, it would seem.
“So, apparently people are actually willing to hire you? Who knew?” Those traditions definitely include giving your younger brother a hard time.
Ben is stretched out on his living room couch, which is his alone for once, since April and Andy are out at a Mouse Rat gig at a birthday party. For a five year old. Ben’s half-expecting them back any minute, even though they only left an hour ago. But he’ll take the peace and quiet and control over the big-screen television for as long as he can get it. “Your faith in me is touching, it really is.”
“Well, it’s not like you really ever tried to get hired anywhere for the last dozen years or so, right? So you didn’t have any reason to have faith in yourself, either.”
“That’s a ringing endorsement, right there.”
Paul laughs. “All right. You’re god’s gift to financial analysis, you’re a peerless leader among men and women, your strategic wisdom is second to none. That good now?”
Ben chuckles. “That’s more like it.”
Then the referee calls a ridiculous foul, so they spend a few minutes hectoring him from their respective couches. They’re really more baseball guys, so it’s pretty half-hearted. But, still, tradition.
The game goes to commercial so Paul picks up their conversation again. “So you have a couple of options, maybe. How would you choose?”
“I honestly don’t know. I’ve written a bunch of stuff down, but when it comes right down to it, I think I’m going to go with the people I liked best. Assuming I do get more than one offer.”
“Wow, look at you, intuition over analysis.”
“Yeah, well, it’s living in Pawnee that does it. Things don’t lend themselves so much to analysis here.”
“I’m going to have to check this town out for myself one of these days.”
“I’m not really set up for houseguests, but if you’re game for the Pawnee Super Suites, it would be my honor to show you around all the sights. I mean, that won’t take long, but then we can always eat waffles.”
“Pawnee Super Suites, hey? That sounds mildly repugnant. But only mildly. I might be able to set up some meetings in Indy soon. Maybe Emma and Lilah could come. Emma doesn’t have to start teaching again until the fall.”
“Keep Lilah away from the raccoons is all I can say. But yeah, that would be great.”
“YOW! Holy SHIT!”
“What happened?” Paul muffles the phone, and Ben can hear him apologizing to Lilah for yelling, and to and Emma for yelling and for swearing.
“Lilah just did a bit of a man-check on me, that’s all. It’s a whole new ballgame when they can move around on their own, I tell you. No pun intended.”
Ben chuckles.
“So when do you have to decide what you’re going to do?”
“I’ve got a tour of the college coming up this week, to meet some more people. They haven’t made me an offer yet, but it’s getting closer. And I’m going to talk to the more senior people at the school district this week, too. And the pension fund is going to get back to me by Wednesday.”
“You sound a lot better than when you were here.”
“You know, I feel better.”
“So why is that?”
“I just think I’m more clear on what I want. I’m not necessarily going to get all of it, but I’m clearer on what it is, at least. I’m going in some direction.”
“Have you been seeing anyone?”
“No... no.” Where did that come from?
“Why not?”
“I’ve been busy... and I haven’t met anyone I want to get involved with.” Which is true. Shauna, that reporter, had definitely been flirting with him at the impromptu pizza party, but he’d just been polite about it. Which Tom had teased him about later, but whatever. Not his type, he’d said, and Tom had snorted at that. “What, hot isn’t your type?” and Ben had involuntarily looked at Leslie across the room.
“You’re still stuck on that woman from City Hall.” Which is also true. But Paul doesn’t need to know that.
“I wouldn’t put it that way...”
“So that’s a yes.”
“Have it your way.” It’s brotherly ju-jitsu - just deflect the attack by refusing to acknowledge it as an attack. Also a tradition. Now would be a good time for something stupid to happen in the game to distract Paul.
“That’s it, I’m putting Emma on.”
“What? No... hang on... wait!” Shit. Emma doesn’t do ju-jitsu.
“Hiya, Ben.”
Ben tries for nonchalant. “Oh, hey, Emma. What’s up?”
Emma speedtalks to get to her question. “Not much, you know, the usual, baby still wakes me up every night so I feel like an extra on Walking Dead, baby does amazing things like crawl and say ‘mama’ that only billions of babies have done before her, back at work churning out research. Blah blah blah whatever. Tell me: what is the deal with you and this woman?”
Ben sighs. “Look, you know the deal. You knew the deal when we were together, and then when we broke up. And now there’s no more deal.”
“Except that you aren’t over her.”
“Well... no.”
“So, why is that? It’s been a few months now. You’ve actually settled in a town after all these years. It's time to start breaking a few hearts out there, at least, no? Or find someone nice and settle down and make some babies so your parents stop obsessing over Lilah, oh my god, Ben SAVE ME from these people. At least on my side there are only two grandparents but on your side there are FOUR OF THEM. Have you seen the comments on Facebook?”
Ben chuckles. When Paul started bringing Emma around for family events, about five years ago, it took her a while to get used to the various Wyatt dysfunctions. The three of them - Emma, Paul and Ben - got in the habit of going out for a drink afterwards, to decompress, and to help Emma decode the hidden messages of the evening. For some reason that nobody agrees on now, the first time they did it they drank rye and ginger ale, and since then it’s a pretty ironclad tradition. And a secret code. “Rye and ginger” can wrap up a Wyatt family get-together in short order, if muttered by one of them to either of the others. Suddenly, everyone has an early morning the next day, and the younger generation grabs their coats and heads for the nearest dive bar to debrief.
Ben appreciated having her around from the beginning. Given his family, it was like bringing in reinforcements during a long, but peculiarly quiet, battle. Funny, smart, insightful reinforcements.
“Right, Em, forget any consideration of my future happiness, it’s all about protecting you from my family.”
“Why, yes, yes it is. Have you not gotten the memo? PaulPaulPaulPaul, she’s got the remote, it’s in her mouth, that can’t be healthy, get it from her, hey? Give her that bunny, she loves it, it’ll be a good trade. Seriously, Ben, are you still in love with her?”
This stops him cold.
“Yes.”
It’s the truth. He could never lie to Emma, anyhow. And not only because she was an honest-to-god anthropologist and therefore knew how to ask great questions. But because he knew she cared about him. And she’d probably know if he lied, even over the phone, so why waste time?
And he doesn’t really want to lie about it, either. There’s that. It’s mostly that nobody except Paul and Emma and, apparently, April knows enough to even ask him the question.
Come to think of it, April didn’t actually ask.
Everyone else who even knew about their relationship, Leslie included, seems to have just assumed he has just gotten on with his life.
“Oh, honey. Damn.” She pauses. “Honestly, though, it’s good to hear you say that. At least to admit it to yourself, if it’s the truth. So what can you do about it?”
“Nothing. I mean. No.”
“Is there any way you can be together?”
This part is pretty simple. “Only if I don’t work for the city. Whether she wins or loses the election.”
“So you really need one of these other jobs.”
Ben rubs his eyes. This was the whole problem.
“Look, Emma, at this point I don’t have any idea if it matters - if she cares any more. Even when we were together, I knew I was in deeper than she was. She would say ‘if this turns into something real’ as if it wasn’t real already. Not for her. She just... she was just on a different schedule than I was.”
“And then you had to break up so soon.”
“Yeah. I knew she wasn’t in deep enough to try for anything different, any different way to handle the situation. I might have been, but she wasn’t. So now I have no idea, even if I didn’t work for the city. I can’t assume anything. It’s been months. She’s mostly been doing a great job of pretending I don’t exist. And her life will have changed a lot, because of what she’s going through with this election. It’s been intense. And rough.”
“And you can’t just go and talk to her about it like a normal person.”
“Oh, god, no. No. She’s got a lot going on. And it wouldn’t be fair to her. I don’t... I don’t want her to think that I was getting another job just because of her. I don’t think she’d want that responsibility, somehow. And the fact is, it’s not because of her, not entirely. It’s because of me. I’m just still hoping...”
“That you get the job and the girl in the end.”
Ben shoots out a breath, wrinkles his nose. “It’s ridiculous at this point, I know, but yeah, something like that.”
“And then produce some grandbabies so your TWO sets of parents start to chill the fuck out about my kid?”
This time Ben laughs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Emma. Why don’t you just get pregnant again right away so there is another kid for them to fuss over in your family?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Wyatt the Younger. I was the one inappropriately pushing you to make and disclose your reproductive plans. No changing the subject on me.”
They both laugh, and then there’s a companionable silence for a moment, as they listen to each other think along the phone lines. “Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope to hell she deserves you. All this.”
Ben smiles. “Emma, you’d have loved her. Or, you’re going to love her. I’ll let you know when I find out which it’s going to be.”
“Take care of yourself, buddy.”
“You too. Make my brother change all the diapers the rest of the weekend.”
“You betcha.”
Ben hangs up and flops down on the couch, clasping his hands behind his head. He lies there for a good long while before turning off the television, blaring its beer ads.Then he heads back to his bedroom, to continue his research on what to expect at the community college next week.
******************************
Chapter 6a
In the next chapter: ELECTION DAY!!! Donna Meagle, transpo (and makeup artist); Ann Perkins, volunteer coordinator; Ron Swanson, any other damn thing you might need. No actual javelin from Andy, though. Sorry. See you all at JJ’s to hear the voting results!
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