Fic: It's Home, 2/2
Read Part 1 Here
Ben's feelings of displacement follow him back to Washington. The questions about his future leave him out of sorts and unable to immerse himself in the work at hand.
Jen comes into town two weeks after his return from Pawnee, and her first morning there she pulls him into a private meeting.
"What's the deal, Ben?" she says bluntly. "You're off your game. Do we have a problem?"
He shakes his head and coughs a little, knowing that she's right but not knowing how to explain his problem to her in a way that she'll understand. "I guess, uh, I've been wondering what happens after the campaign. Where I'll go next. I know it's been distracting me, and I apologize. I'll try harder to push it to the back burner."
"You better." Jen's eyes are cold. "We're heading into the home stretch here, and the only future you should be thinking about it the one that comes on November 6th. Anything after that doesn't matter. You need to keep your eyes on the goal-got it?"
"Got it." He nods, looking down at his hands.
"I warned you about visiting Pawnee," she says. "This is a tough business we're in. You have to be committed to it, 100%. Your other relationships have to take a back seat until we reach the finish line. Can you do that, Ben? If not, Jack is chomping at the bit to step up and take over, here."
Ben clenches his teeth, the hint of competition stirring up a new fire in his chest. He meets Jen's eyes. "I can do it."
"Okay. Let's make it happen."
After that meeting, Ben cuts back on the frequency of his texts, calls and emails to people back in Pawnee. He only talks to Leslie at the end of the day, when their conversations won't distract him from work.
It's time to put personal feelings aside and just win the race.
+.+.+
Ben's new strategy must be working, because two weeks after his private meeting with Jen she tells him he's doing a good job.
He actually feels like kind of an asshole-relentlessly schmoozing donors, grasping at any opportunity to pimp his candidate, playing up all the negatives about a woman he genuinely respects. Unfortunately, that's what it takes to succeed in this business.
Even more unfortunately, he's actually good at it.
+.+.+
He starts going out with his team a couple of times a week for drinks after work. Now that he's not doing much communicating with anyone from Pawnee other than Leslie, he feels the need for some extra socializing.
Nichole and Rebecca actually follow through with trying to introduce him to a few new women, but he makes it abundantly clear that he's not interested, and after their third attempt, they give up.
Once he gets past the attempted set-ups, his evenings out with the team aren't bad. The bars are classier than the ones in Pawnee, and the conversation a little more highbrow. In fact, they mostly talk about the same things they talk about at work, only with more jokes thrown in because they're a little tipsy.
It's nothing like the friendships he had back in Pawnee. Everything is colder and more intense. Even when they're relaxed they don't really seem relaxed. He's sure they'll let loose a little more after the election, but even then, he can't imagine Nichole and Rebecca going out without their designer shoes and handbags, or Devon and Jack chilling over beers and Xbox.
Maybe what they've got going feels perfectly relaxed and friendly to them-but Ben isn't buying into it quite yet.
If he stays in Washington for too long, will he forget how to relax, too?
He only thinks thoughts like this when he's had one too many, and he never says them out loud.
By the next morning he forgets he ever felt that way. It's back to business as usual.
+.+.+
At the end of a long, exciting week at the beginning of August, Ben kicks back on his sofa for a phone conversation with Leslie. He has some big news to share.
"So did you watch that new commercial I emailed to you?" he asks her.
"I did."
Huh. She's usually more effusive than this. "So, uh, what did you think of it?"
It takes her too long to answer. That's how he knows she didn't like it.
He worked on that ad all week. The entire campaign staff had spent all day praising him for it. And the person he cares about the most doesn't like it.
Great.
"It was . . ." she finally says. "It was . . . just a tad harsh. Don't you think?"
Ben sighs. Of course. She'd softened on the idea of attack ads over the course of her campaign, but she still didn't care for them.
He immediately feels defensive. "You've got to admit that Zeller's gaffe was pretty huge. It would be irresponsible of us as Murray's campaign team not to go after her for it. That's kind of our job."
"Yes, I see where you're coming from," replies Leslie, sounding equally defensive. "She did choose her words very poorly. But you know she didn't mean it the way that ad implies that she meant it. You're putting words in her mouth. I've read her campaign platform, and I've read about her life and her history in the state senate. She would never back the kind of bigoted proposals that your ad implied."
"I know that. We all know that. But, like I said, it's our job to beat her. We need to take whatever opportunities present themselves." Even as he says the words he feels an uncomfortable tightness growing in his chest.
He knows they went a little too far with the ad. But he was just doing his job, wasn't he?
"I know it's your job to beat her. But she's a good woman with a good record. I'd probably vote for her if I lived in Ohio. And your team practically slandered her. Did you even try to convince your team to tone down the rhetoric? Did you even try to get them to be more responsible and respectful?"
Ben sighed and closes his eyes, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. So much for getting Leslie's praise for his big news.
"Actually," he admits, "I wrote it."
Silence.
This isn't good.
He stammers, "It-it-it's kind of a big deal. My big triumph for the month. I wrote the script for a major television ad. Out of all the proposed scripts, mine was the one they chose. I've been getting high fives for it all day. I-I guess I was hoping you'd be proud of me."
He hears he draw in a deep breath. "Oh. Well. I'm glad you're finding so much success with your new job." She doesn't sound glad at all. Pretty much the opposite.
"Leslie-this ad is pretty huge for me. It's really putting my name on the map. People are starting to recognize me. To respect me. The least you could do is put on a better show of pretending to be happy for me." He knows it comes out a little harsh. And he can totally see where she's coming from. But after all he sacrificed for her, after how hard he's worked for her, can't she give him this one little thing?
"I can't pretend that I'm happy you're getting respect for slamming a good woman in a major ad. I can't pretend that the respect you get for being a meany is a good thing."
"A meany? Seriously?" He sits up and shakes his head.
"Yeah. Seriously. If this is what it takes to earn people's respect and attention out there, then maybe it isn't worth earning. I thought you'd bring some civility and intelligence to campaigning, instead of letting them drag you down to their level."
"Damn it, Leslie-"
"No." She cuts him off, her voice wavering. "I don't want to fight. I hate fighting, and I hate being mad at you. Can we just drop it and start over, and talk about something else?"
"What if I don't want to drop it? This is important to me. This is a major accomplishment. And you're treating me like I should be ashamed of myself for being good at my job. Well, this is what campaign operatives do. We both knew that before I took the job-and if you didn't, it's because you had your head in the sand." He knows he's gone a little too far, and winces at his own words. Why does this have to be so hard?
"I can't have this conversation right now," she says. "I still love you, but I don't particularly like you, right now."
That one hurts. "Leslie-"
"I'm sorry. I just need to go get some waffles and cool down for a while. We can talk some more later, when we're not so worked up."
This is the first fight they've had since he left Pawnee, and he hates leaving things hanging like this, but he reluctantly agrees.
After hanging up he takes a walk and then drinks a few beers to soothe his nerves.
He doesn't want to admit it, but he knew when he was writing that ad that Leslie wouldn't like it. He'd managed to convince himself that she'd still be proud of his accomplishment. And a part of him really is proud that his script was selected and that he's gaining a positive reputation in the campaign community.
But when it comes right down to it, this campaign is nothing like the one he ran for Leslie. It's all business and no heart.
Is that really something he should be proud of?
He manages to smooth things over when he and Leslie talk again, but his unease never completely goes away.
+.+.+
Six days later, Ben gets a voicemail from April.
"Hey-asshole. You promised to write Andy a letter of recommendation for Police Academy and you never did. His application is due tomorrow, and he's not going to get in and it's all your fault. Go to hell."
Crap.
Ben pleads stomach problems and gets off work early. He heads home and starts drafting a letter.
What can he say about Andy that would make a difference for the Police Academy? Other than the fact that Andy may finally be the right person to help him get over his fear of cops. Because who could possibly be afraid of Andy?
He starts and discards six different drafts.
It's been so long since he's spent any time thinking or worrying about his friends back in Pawnee that he feels at a total loss.
Four months ago he never would have forgotten a promise to a friend. Four months ago he would have known exactly what to say about Andy.
He closes his eyes and does something he hasn't tried in years: he practices some of the meditation techniques that Chris taught him while they were on the road together.
Sitting in a quiet, dark room he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, letting all his thoughts about the campaign and the long list of tasks on his to-do list drain away. He needs to let go of Washington, and start thinking Pawnee.
After a half hour of focusing on his memories of his time in Pawnee, he's ready.
He sits down and writes with eloquence that he never would have expected about how devoted Andy is to helping his friends and his community. About how eager he is to learn and improve himself. About how enthusiastic he is about the ideals represented by law enforcement officers.
He ends the letter by writing: "In the time I spent as both his colleague and his roommate, Andy embraced me not only as a friend, but as a brother. He has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen, and he's ready and waiting to extend those feelings of brotherhood to every officer on the Pawnee police force-and from there, to extend them to the entire city of Pawnee."
He faxes a copy to the Pawnee Police Academy, and emails copies to Andy, April, and Leslie (just to be sure).
When he's done he collapses on his bed with a smile on his face.
Somehow, writing this single letter has made him feel better about himself than anything else he's done lately.
Later that evening, when Leslie calls, she tells him how much she likes the letter. "What you said about Andy, and about Pawnee-it was really great. You sum him up even better than I did, in my recommendation."
Ben's eyebrows shot up. "Wait-you wrote him a recommendation, too?"
"Yep. And so did Ron. And Chris."
"Then why was April so mad at me for not writing one? How many recommendations does this application call for?"
Leslie laughs, clear and bright. "Just two."
Ben isn't sure whether he wants to laugh or to throw something. He opts for laughter, because it feels better.
"I think maybe that was April's way of reminding you that you still have friends back in Pawnee," says Leslie. "I hear you haven't been very good at keeping in touch, lately."
Ben sighs. "I haven't been. I keep letting this job take over my life. There's always so much to do. But you're right. April's right. I shouldn't set my friendships aside just because I'm busy. You never do."
"True," she replies, her voice bright, "but I only need four hours of sleep a night."
"That does help. But I can rearrange things. I should rearrange things."
Setting aside his friendships to focus on work has certainly made him better at his job. But more and more he's been thinking that being good at this particular job might not be so great, in the long run. Being a good friend, however . . . well, that's another story.
+.+.+
April sends him a text the next morning.
"Thanks for making me cry, loser."
Ben wears a smile on his face the rest of the day.
+.+.+
Leslie comes back to Washington the last weekend of August.
They don’t have four days, like last time, so Ben is firm. He refuses to attend any meetings, parties, get-togethers, strategy sessions, or anything else even vaguely resembling work from Friday evening through Sunday night. Jen isn't happy, but Ben puts his foot down.
No trying to impress Leslie with cocktail parties this time.
Instead they divide the weekend between his hotel and the Smithsonian.
He doesn't miss his job. Not even one little bit.
+.+.+
Ben is determined to make at least one significant contact (a call, extended instant message chat, or lengthy email) with at least one Pawnee friend every single week, and at least one minor contact (a text or short email) with each of them every week.
He's pleasantly surprised to find that all of them start reciprocating. It's almost like they miss him.
The Pawnee gang misses him.
He can't think of that as anything other than a good thing.
+.+.+
"We're heading into the home stretch, people," says Jen over the video conference with her full campaign team the last week in September. "It's time to focus in on the prize. Put everything else in your lives aside. Right now this election is all that matters."
Even though she's in Ohio and he's in Washington, Ben can feel her eyes boring into him. She already knows about the three day weekend he has scheduled in Pawnee in two weeks, and she's pissed.
Ben knows he can make it work and get his job done. Jen probably knows it, too. That doesn't mean she has to like it.
She never calls him out by name, though she does continue her lecture for a few more minutes before turning to other business at hand.
Ben supposes that she's trying to guilt him into cancelling his plans. But it won't work. There's not even a chance.
+.+.+
The scent of Pawnee washes over Ben as he steps out of Leslie's car-that mixture of damp grass and industrial chemicals that is purely Pawnee.
It's Friday morning the first weekend in October, and it feels amazing to be home.
He took the earliest possible flight to Indianapolis that morning, and though it's now getting on toward ten he hasn't had anything to eat besides coffee and a granola bar. They've come straight to J.J.'s.
The omelets here don't quite match the ones at the diner he frequents in Washington, but the waffles are far superior. So is the company.
"So," says Leslie as they eat, "I've turned over all my Harvest Festival prep-work duties to April and Tom for the weekend. I have nothing planned or scheduled. No surprise parties. No micro-managing. Nothing. This weekend is all about you. You choose what we do."
Ben smiles around his bite of waffle. He knows exactly how big a deal it is for Leslie to abdicate all control to him, and he appreciates it. But what he really wants is to be able to help her. He swallows. "Are you sure you trust April and Tom to handle things? The Harvest Festival kicks off in what? Eleven days? That's coming up fast."
Leslie takes a deep breath and seems to be struggling to stay composed. "Yes. I'm sure they'll do fine."
Ben taps the table with his fingers. "You know-you and I were always really good at working on big projects together. Maybe I could spend the rest of today and part of tomorrow helping you out with Harvest Festival stuff?"
Leslie's mouth hangs open, and she looks both floored and elated. "Really?"
He nods. "Really. It'll fun-just like old times. Besides, it'll be a great break from playing dirty politics all day. I'm ready to help build something that matters, again."
"God I love you so much," she says, shaking her head slowly.
"I love you, too."
She grabs his hand across the table. "This is perfect. I've been terrified that Tom will screw things up, and April always gives up when stuff gets too stressful. I thought I'd be stuck working double time all week next week to make up the difference."
They head straight to city hall from J.J.'s, and as they're walking inside Leslie asks again, "Are you sure you're okay with this? I mean, this weekend is supposed to be a vacation for you."
"Yes. This is exactly the kind of vacation I need right now. Trust me."
Before they get down to work in the Parks Department, Ben hands out all the gifts he bought people. Donna and Tom both get a bottle of the expensive hand cream he's seen Nichole using. He gives April a bag of gourmet doggie biscuits for Champion and matching authentic FBI t-shirts for her and Andy. For Chris he has several varieties of herbal tea from a place Devon had recommended. He gives Jerry a pack of novelty socks covered with pictures of the White House. And for Ron, he has a framed photo of a plate filled with a giant steak, two strips of bacon and three fried eggs, with a little placard at the bottom reading: "Give me Liberty or Give me Death."
Ron nods solemnly. "Thank you, son. It's perfect."
Ben thinks he detects the gleam of a tear in the corner of Ron's eye, and feels his chest swell with pride. Leslie's given him a few tips on how to pick the perfect gift, and it seems to be working.
"What about for me?" whispers Leslie, when she gets a chance.
"I'm saving yours for later," he whispers back.
She squeezes his hand, looking suitably tantalized.
They spend the rest of day making phone calls, interviewing prospective vendors, coordinating schedules, and visiting the various festival venues to make sure the advance preparations are well under way.
As they drive around town, Ben feels almost like he's taking a tour of Pawnee for the first time all over again. He takes in all the ramshackle neighborhoods, the quirkily named small businesses, the roving gangs of raccoons and the impeccably maintained parks.
Pawnee still feels smaller than it used to-but in a good way. In a cozy, homey, welcoming way.
Later that evening they finally run into Andy, who pulls Ben into a big bear hug and thanks him for the sweet FBI gear. He struts around a little, showing off his cadet uniform. "The best part is," he announces, "next we get to go to the range to start training with guns!"
The thought of Andy Dwyer, armed and dangerous, makes Ben quake in his shoes. Maybe Andy won't be able to cure him of his fear of cops, after all.
Once they finally get back to Leslie's house that night, Ben finally pulls out his present for her.
She rips off the paper ravenously and then sits trembling in astonishment as she stares down at the personally inscribed copy of "Promises to Keep," by Joe Biden.
"For Leslie-all it takes to make a real difference is a determined heart and a committed spirit. Never give up the dream. Yours, Joe Biden," she reads in a shaking voice. "Oh my God oh my God oh my God!"
She bounces up and down and stares up at Ben with misty eyes. "Joe Biden knows my name?"
Ben nods, grinning at his triumph. "He does. I knew he was going to show up at a fundraiser I attended, so I took the book with me and stalked him all night until I was able to corner him. I think I caught the eye of a couple of secret service guys, but I got to him. I told him all about my amazing girlfriend who's been a dedicated public servant her whole life and who just came back from underdog status to win a seat on her local city council. He was very impressed."
She gasps and clutches the book to her heart. "My story impressed Joe Biden?"
Joe actually sounded a little bored, but Ben doesn't intend to mention that. And the man did say several very nice things. "He was. And I have a picture on my phone of him shaking my hand to prove that this really happened, and I'm not just making it up."
Leslie sets the book down and grabs Ben's right hand. "This hand touched Joe Biden." Her voice is filled with awe, and she raises Ben's hand to her face and starts nuzzling it.
He chuckles. This reaction is even better than he was hoping for. "I did have to wash it. Sorry."
She leaps at him, pulling him down for an intense kiss.
"I want you so bad right now," she gasps when they finally come up for air.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
+.+.+
Sunday evening, as Ben finishes gathering his things together to repack for his flight back to Washington, Leslie starts getting fidgety and nervous.
They've had a great weekend working on the Harvest Festival and relaxing around her house. Best of all, there's only thirty days left until the election, and then he'll be coming home for good. He doesn't know what she could possibly be so nervous about.
Once his suitcase is ready and waiting by the front door, Leslie sits him down on the couch and takes a deep breath. "Before you leave, there's something I need to give you." She reaches under the couch cushion and pulls out the same red jewelry box that he used to give Leslie her first campaign button, and that she used to tell him to go to Washington. It's a box that holds so many memories, and so much promise.
He feels a sudden flutter of butterflies in his stomach as his brain spins trying to puzzle out what the box might hold this time. He smiles and raises his eyebrows. "Can I open it?"
She nods and lets him take the box.
He opens the lid.
And frowns. "It's a business card."
She nods, grinning. "For a realtor. A great realtor. The best realtor in Pawnee."
"Okay. Well. That's. . . nice." He has no idea what this means. Is he supposed to guess? "Does she need a business manager, or something?"
Leslie laughs, breaking the tension. "No, silly. I'm selling my house."
"You're what?" This is absolutely the last thing he expected to hear. Well-hearing that she's eloping with Jean-Ralphio would be the last thing, but this is pretty far down the list. "You're not-you're not," he flounders, "leaving Pawnee, are you?"
"Never!" She looked offended at the suggestion. "The only way I'd leave Pawnee is if my new address is 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. You know that."
"Yeah. I know. So what's going on?"
She clasps his hand. "As you might remember, this was my grandmother's house, and my mother inherited it. And then she sold it to me for a bargain when I got my job as Deputy Director of Parks and Recreation. Which my mother also helped me get."
Ben nods. He's picked up on all this information over the time they've known each other.
Leslie gets a quiet, sad-looking smile on her face. "This house is packed to the rafters with memories of the old me. The one who had trouble keeping a best friend for more than a year at a time or a boyfriend for more than two months. The me who didn't know how to cut through red tape and get big projects done. The me who pined over things I couldn't have, and the me who was afraid of taking big risks. But that person doesn't exist anymore, and I'm ready to put those memories behind me. I'm ready to start fresh. And I was hoping . . ." She squeezes his hand a little tighter. "I was hoping you'd help me pick out a new place. For us to share. Where we can make new memories. Together."
He doesn't even have to think about it. "Yes. Absolutely. Let's do it. Let's get a house together."
Her face lights up, all traces of nervousness vanishing. "Yay!"
He kisses her slow and deep, in a way that's come to feel so very familiar yet still thrills him every time. He smiles against her lips. "Pick out the most likely prospects with this realtor of yours, and set up some appointments for November 8th, the day after I get back. We'll go look at them together."
"That sounds perfect."
+.+.+
Ben's only thought about marrying one woman other than Leslie. She was his college girlfriend, and she saved him the trouble of proposing when she dumped him a month before graduation.
It wasn't until he came to Pawnee and met the most extraordinary, unexpected woman he'd ever known that he started thinking about marriage again.
The thought has been popping into his brain off and on for a very long time, now, but he's always managed to push it back. His relationship with Leslie started under such precarious circumstances and followed such a rocky path that he never felt like marriage was something he was ready to bring up. He's kept setting the thought aside, telling himself he can think about it once things are finally normal for them.
Only things have taken a lot longer to get normal than either of them ever expected.
But now, normal is right around the corner.
He spends the whole flight back to Washington wondering if two months of normal will be long enough, before he brings it up. A Christmas proposal might be nice. Or New Year's Eve-that's supposed to be romantic. At least, he thinks it is.
He wonders what Leslie thinks. And he wonders what kind of rings she likes. And what size her finger is.
He'll have to make time to call Ann about it. Ann will definitely know. And he knows from experience that she knows how to keep a secret.
+.+.+
Ben's life is busier than ever for the final four weeks leading up to the election. His contact with his friends in Pawnee dwindles down to a trickle again, but he's pretty sure they all understand how busy he is. And he'll have plenty of time to catch up once he moves back.
He throws himself into the work, making every effort he can to push Congressman Murray toward a sure reelection. The numbers look better every week, but the margin is still too thin to slack off.
+.+.+
Ben prints out some of the pictures of this year's Harvest Festival when April emails them to him, and hangs them up in his office.
Jen expects everyone to keep their eye on the goal of winning the election, but for Ben, that's just another stop along the way. His real finish line lies somewhere else.
The pictures help him remember that.
+.+.+
Leslie reminds him at least twenty times in the weeks leading up to the election to send in his absentee ballot.
"You and I both know how much every vote matters," she chides him.
He dutifully mails in his ballot two weeks before Election Day, and asks the rest of his team what they're doing about voting.
Devon and Rebecca both forget to request ballots from the states they're registered in. Nichole got her ballot, but only plans on voting for President because she has no idea who any of the local officials up for election are. Jack's not sure if he's registered.
Ben shakes his head, but doesn't say anything.
All business and no heart. Yeah. That's why he's going back to Pawnee.
+.+.+
Ben and the rest of his team are in Ohio on election day, ready to celebrate (or not) alongside their candidate.
Ben finally meets Congressman Murray a few hours before the election results come out. The guy wears too much cologne.
After the polling numbers they've been tracking all week, no one on the re-election team is surprised when Murray's victory is declared shortly after the polls close.
While everyone else cheers and claps in the ballroom they've rented for the party, Ben slips into one of the conference rooms where they've been working all day to watch Zeller's concession speech.
She's gracious and dignified, standing surrounded by the family and friends who supported her grassroots campaign. As he watches, Ben can't help but think that he was one of the architects behind the defeat of a truly deserving candidate. He helped one of the good-ole-boys beat out an intelligent, courageous woman.
A woman who reminds him more than a little of Leslie.
It was a good job-just like working as a State Auditor was a good job. He's gone from slashing budgets to destroying dreams.
He's not sure what job he wants next, but he officially has two that he can cross off the list.
+.+.+
He and Jen both fly back to Washington early the next day. She, to return to her oft-abandoned apartment. He, to finish packing up his hotel room to head back to Indiana.
She sits in first class, so Ben manages to avoid the inevitable conversation until after they land. Jen catches him in baggage claim and pulls him over to an alcove with a row of seats where they can have something resembling privacy.
"Ben, I think you know what I'm about to say." Jen gives him a pointed look.
"I do." He nods. "But my answer hasn't changed."
Jen wrinkles her nose like she's caught a whiff of something rotten. "Seriously? You're giving up a shot at a great career to go back to Nowhere-ville, Indiana?"
"I am." He doesn't bother trying to defend Pawnee to Jen. He knows it won't do any good.
She shakes her head. "I don't get it. You could live with Leslie in Indiana part of the year, and get a place in D.C. for the rest of the year. People make long-distance relationships work all the time. And with all the contacts you'll be making, you'll probably be able to find her a job in D.C. in no time."
Nope. She really doesn't get it. "Leslie doesn't want a job in D.C. And we both know that if you get hired for a campaign in Oregon, you'd want me to spend at least part of my time in Oregon. Or Missouri. Or Delaware. Or wherever else you get hired."
Jen shrugs. "So you'd be on the road a lot. Travel can be fun. Meeting new people, seeing new things. Come on!"
That's absolutely the worst argument she could possibly bring up. "I spent most of a decade on the road," he says firmly. "I'm not doing that again. I'm ready to settle down."
Jen spreads her hands in disbelief. "But why Pawnee? You and Leslie are smart and talented. You could both do so much better."
"No, Jen. We can't." He searches his find for words that she'll understand. "Pawnee is special. It's full of passionate, fascinating people who care deeply about their community. It's a town where you can become a life-long celebrity for being a high school athlete. It's a place where small businesses won't succeed unless their names are either puns or alliterative. It's a place where you can get amazing waffles twenty-four hours a day. Where the mayor's dog is a household name. Where people are more worried about raccoons than about gang violence or drugs. It's one of the rare towns where any public forum sponsored by the city government is guaranteed to get more than thirty enthusiastic attendees. It's the only place on Earth where you can go to a candlelight vigil at a monument dedicated to a little horse every Friday night." He can feel his smile growing broader with every item he adds to the list.
"It's a place where I'll never get bored, because there's always something bizarre and fascinating going on. It's a place where I'd feel safe and happy raising a family." His heart races a little at that thought. "But most importantly, it's full of people who I care about, and who care about me, too. I haven't had a place like that since I was a kid, and I'm not about to take it for granted."
Jen still looks baffled, but he doesn't care. At this point he's not saying these things for her-he's saying them for himself.
He knew all these things before he left for Washington-but it took six months away to realize just how important they are.
"Pawnee is-well-it's home. And that's good enough for me."
He leaves Jen sitting there in the airport and gets a taxi. It's time to finish packing his things.
It's time to go home.
+.+.+
Ben Wyatt isn't entirely sure what he wants to do with the rest of his life, but he's absolutely, without a doubt certain about where he wants to spend it, and who he wants to share it with. As long as he's got that, he has plenty of time to figure out the rest.
Ben's feelings of displacement follow him back to Washington. The questions about his future leave him out of sorts and unable to immerse himself in the work at hand.
Jen comes into town two weeks after his return from Pawnee, and her first morning there she pulls him into a private meeting.
"What's the deal, Ben?" she says bluntly. "You're off your game. Do we have a problem?"
He shakes his head and coughs a little, knowing that she's right but not knowing how to explain his problem to her in a way that she'll understand. "I guess, uh, I've been wondering what happens after the campaign. Where I'll go next. I know it's been distracting me, and I apologize. I'll try harder to push it to the back burner."
"You better." Jen's eyes are cold. "We're heading into the home stretch here, and the only future you should be thinking about it the one that comes on November 6th. Anything after that doesn't matter. You need to keep your eyes on the goal-got it?"
"Got it." He nods, looking down at his hands.
"I warned you about visiting Pawnee," she says. "This is a tough business we're in. You have to be committed to it, 100%. Your other relationships have to take a back seat until we reach the finish line. Can you do that, Ben? If not, Jack is chomping at the bit to step up and take over, here."
Ben clenches his teeth, the hint of competition stirring up a new fire in his chest. He meets Jen's eyes. "I can do it."
"Okay. Let's make it happen."
After that meeting, Ben cuts back on the frequency of his texts, calls and emails to people back in Pawnee. He only talks to Leslie at the end of the day, when their conversations won't distract him from work.
It's time to put personal feelings aside and just win the race.
+.+.+
Ben's new strategy must be working, because two weeks after his private meeting with Jen she tells him he's doing a good job.
He actually feels like kind of an asshole-relentlessly schmoozing donors, grasping at any opportunity to pimp his candidate, playing up all the negatives about a woman he genuinely respects. Unfortunately, that's what it takes to succeed in this business.
Even more unfortunately, he's actually good at it.
+.+.+
He starts going out with his team a couple of times a week for drinks after work. Now that he's not doing much communicating with anyone from Pawnee other than Leslie, he feels the need for some extra socializing.
Nichole and Rebecca actually follow through with trying to introduce him to a few new women, but he makes it abundantly clear that he's not interested, and after their third attempt, they give up.
Once he gets past the attempted set-ups, his evenings out with the team aren't bad. The bars are classier than the ones in Pawnee, and the conversation a little more highbrow. In fact, they mostly talk about the same things they talk about at work, only with more jokes thrown in because they're a little tipsy.
It's nothing like the friendships he had back in Pawnee. Everything is colder and more intense. Even when they're relaxed they don't really seem relaxed. He's sure they'll let loose a little more after the election, but even then, he can't imagine Nichole and Rebecca going out without their designer shoes and handbags, or Devon and Jack chilling over beers and Xbox.
Maybe what they've got going feels perfectly relaxed and friendly to them-but Ben isn't buying into it quite yet.
If he stays in Washington for too long, will he forget how to relax, too?
He only thinks thoughts like this when he's had one too many, and he never says them out loud.
By the next morning he forgets he ever felt that way. It's back to business as usual.
+.+.+
At the end of a long, exciting week at the beginning of August, Ben kicks back on his sofa for a phone conversation with Leslie. He has some big news to share.
"So did you watch that new commercial I emailed to you?" he asks her.
"I did."
Huh. She's usually more effusive than this. "So, uh, what did you think of it?"
It takes her too long to answer. That's how he knows she didn't like it.
He worked on that ad all week. The entire campaign staff had spent all day praising him for it. And the person he cares about the most doesn't like it.
Great.
"It was . . ." she finally says. "It was . . . just a tad harsh. Don't you think?"
Ben sighs. Of course. She'd softened on the idea of attack ads over the course of her campaign, but she still didn't care for them.
He immediately feels defensive. "You've got to admit that Zeller's gaffe was pretty huge. It would be irresponsible of us as Murray's campaign team not to go after her for it. That's kind of our job."
"Yes, I see where you're coming from," replies Leslie, sounding equally defensive. "She did choose her words very poorly. But you know she didn't mean it the way that ad implies that she meant it. You're putting words in her mouth. I've read her campaign platform, and I've read about her life and her history in the state senate. She would never back the kind of bigoted proposals that your ad implied."
"I know that. We all know that. But, like I said, it's our job to beat her. We need to take whatever opportunities present themselves." Even as he says the words he feels an uncomfortable tightness growing in his chest.
He knows they went a little too far with the ad. But he was just doing his job, wasn't he?
"I know it's your job to beat her. But she's a good woman with a good record. I'd probably vote for her if I lived in Ohio. And your team practically slandered her. Did you even try to convince your team to tone down the rhetoric? Did you even try to get them to be more responsible and respectful?"
Ben sighed and closes his eyes, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. So much for getting Leslie's praise for his big news.
"Actually," he admits, "I wrote it."
Silence.
This isn't good.
He stammers, "It-it-it's kind of a big deal. My big triumph for the month. I wrote the script for a major television ad. Out of all the proposed scripts, mine was the one they chose. I've been getting high fives for it all day. I-I guess I was hoping you'd be proud of me."
He hears he draw in a deep breath. "Oh. Well. I'm glad you're finding so much success with your new job." She doesn't sound glad at all. Pretty much the opposite.
"Leslie-this ad is pretty huge for me. It's really putting my name on the map. People are starting to recognize me. To respect me. The least you could do is put on a better show of pretending to be happy for me." He knows it comes out a little harsh. And he can totally see where she's coming from. But after all he sacrificed for her, after how hard he's worked for her, can't she give him this one little thing?
"I can't pretend that I'm happy you're getting respect for slamming a good woman in a major ad. I can't pretend that the respect you get for being a meany is a good thing."
"A meany? Seriously?" He sits up and shakes his head.
"Yeah. Seriously. If this is what it takes to earn people's respect and attention out there, then maybe it isn't worth earning. I thought you'd bring some civility and intelligence to campaigning, instead of letting them drag you down to their level."
"Damn it, Leslie-"
"No." She cuts him off, her voice wavering. "I don't want to fight. I hate fighting, and I hate being mad at you. Can we just drop it and start over, and talk about something else?"
"What if I don't want to drop it? This is important to me. This is a major accomplishment. And you're treating me like I should be ashamed of myself for being good at my job. Well, this is what campaign operatives do. We both knew that before I took the job-and if you didn't, it's because you had your head in the sand." He knows he's gone a little too far, and winces at his own words. Why does this have to be so hard?
"I can't have this conversation right now," she says. "I still love you, but I don't particularly like you, right now."
That one hurts. "Leslie-"
"I'm sorry. I just need to go get some waffles and cool down for a while. We can talk some more later, when we're not so worked up."
This is the first fight they've had since he left Pawnee, and he hates leaving things hanging like this, but he reluctantly agrees.
After hanging up he takes a walk and then drinks a few beers to soothe his nerves.
He doesn't want to admit it, but he knew when he was writing that ad that Leslie wouldn't like it. He'd managed to convince himself that she'd still be proud of his accomplishment. And a part of him really is proud that his script was selected and that he's gaining a positive reputation in the campaign community.
But when it comes right down to it, this campaign is nothing like the one he ran for Leslie. It's all business and no heart.
Is that really something he should be proud of?
He manages to smooth things over when he and Leslie talk again, but his unease never completely goes away.
+.+.+
Six days later, Ben gets a voicemail from April.
"Hey-asshole. You promised to write Andy a letter of recommendation for Police Academy and you never did. His application is due tomorrow, and he's not going to get in and it's all your fault. Go to hell."
Crap.
Ben pleads stomach problems and gets off work early. He heads home and starts drafting a letter.
What can he say about Andy that would make a difference for the Police Academy? Other than the fact that Andy may finally be the right person to help him get over his fear of cops. Because who could possibly be afraid of Andy?
He starts and discards six different drafts.
It's been so long since he's spent any time thinking or worrying about his friends back in Pawnee that he feels at a total loss.
Four months ago he never would have forgotten a promise to a friend. Four months ago he would have known exactly what to say about Andy.
He closes his eyes and does something he hasn't tried in years: he practices some of the meditation techniques that Chris taught him while they were on the road together.
Sitting in a quiet, dark room he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, letting all his thoughts about the campaign and the long list of tasks on his to-do list drain away. He needs to let go of Washington, and start thinking Pawnee.
After a half hour of focusing on his memories of his time in Pawnee, he's ready.
He sits down and writes with eloquence that he never would have expected about how devoted Andy is to helping his friends and his community. About how eager he is to learn and improve himself. About how enthusiastic he is about the ideals represented by law enforcement officers.
He ends the letter by writing: "In the time I spent as both his colleague and his roommate, Andy embraced me not only as a friend, but as a brother. He has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen, and he's ready and waiting to extend those feelings of brotherhood to every officer on the Pawnee police force-and from there, to extend them to the entire city of Pawnee."
He faxes a copy to the Pawnee Police Academy, and emails copies to Andy, April, and Leslie (just to be sure).
When he's done he collapses on his bed with a smile on his face.
Somehow, writing this single letter has made him feel better about himself than anything else he's done lately.
Later that evening, when Leslie calls, she tells him how much she likes the letter. "What you said about Andy, and about Pawnee-it was really great. You sum him up even better than I did, in my recommendation."
Ben's eyebrows shot up. "Wait-you wrote him a recommendation, too?"
"Yep. And so did Ron. And Chris."
"Then why was April so mad at me for not writing one? How many recommendations does this application call for?"
Leslie laughs, clear and bright. "Just two."
Ben isn't sure whether he wants to laugh or to throw something. He opts for laughter, because it feels better.
"I think maybe that was April's way of reminding you that you still have friends back in Pawnee," says Leslie. "I hear you haven't been very good at keeping in touch, lately."
Ben sighs. "I haven't been. I keep letting this job take over my life. There's always so much to do. But you're right. April's right. I shouldn't set my friendships aside just because I'm busy. You never do."
"True," she replies, her voice bright, "but I only need four hours of sleep a night."
"That does help. But I can rearrange things. I should rearrange things."
Setting aside his friendships to focus on work has certainly made him better at his job. But more and more he's been thinking that being good at this particular job might not be so great, in the long run. Being a good friend, however . . . well, that's another story.
+.+.+
April sends him a text the next morning.
"Thanks for making me cry, loser."
Ben wears a smile on his face the rest of the day.
+.+.+
Leslie comes back to Washington the last weekend of August.
They don’t have four days, like last time, so Ben is firm. He refuses to attend any meetings, parties, get-togethers, strategy sessions, or anything else even vaguely resembling work from Friday evening through Sunday night. Jen isn't happy, but Ben puts his foot down.
No trying to impress Leslie with cocktail parties this time.
Instead they divide the weekend between his hotel and the Smithsonian.
He doesn't miss his job. Not even one little bit.
+.+.+
Ben is determined to make at least one significant contact (a call, extended instant message chat, or lengthy email) with at least one Pawnee friend every single week, and at least one minor contact (a text or short email) with each of them every week.
He's pleasantly surprised to find that all of them start reciprocating. It's almost like they miss him.
The Pawnee gang misses him.
He can't think of that as anything other than a good thing.
+.+.+
"We're heading into the home stretch, people," says Jen over the video conference with her full campaign team the last week in September. "It's time to focus in on the prize. Put everything else in your lives aside. Right now this election is all that matters."
Even though she's in Ohio and he's in Washington, Ben can feel her eyes boring into him. She already knows about the three day weekend he has scheduled in Pawnee in two weeks, and she's pissed.
Ben knows he can make it work and get his job done. Jen probably knows it, too. That doesn't mean she has to like it.
She never calls him out by name, though she does continue her lecture for a few more minutes before turning to other business at hand.
Ben supposes that she's trying to guilt him into cancelling his plans. But it won't work. There's not even a chance.
+.+.+
The scent of Pawnee washes over Ben as he steps out of Leslie's car-that mixture of damp grass and industrial chemicals that is purely Pawnee.
It's Friday morning the first weekend in October, and it feels amazing to be home.
He took the earliest possible flight to Indianapolis that morning, and though it's now getting on toward ten he hasn't had anything to eat besides coffee and a granola bar. They've come straight to J.J.'s.
The omelets here don't quite match the ones at the diner he frequents in Washington, but the waffles are far superior. So is the company.
"So," says Leslie as they eat, "I've turned over all my Harvest Festival prep-work duties to April and Tom for the weekend. I have nothing planned or scheduled. No surprise parties. No micro-managing. Nothing. This weekend is all about you. You choose what we do."
Ben smiles around his bite of waffle. He knows exactly how big a deal it is for Leslie to abdicate all control to him, and he appreciates it. But what he really wants is to be able to help her. He swallows. "Are you sure you trust April and Tom to handle things? The Harvest Festival kicks off in what? Eleven days? That's coming up fast."
Leslie takes a deep breath and seems to be struggling to stay composed. "Yes. I'm sure they'll do fine."
Ben taps the table with his fingers. "You know-you and I were always really good at working on big projects together. Maybe I could spend the rest of today and part of tomorrow helping you out with Harvest Festival stuff?"
Leslie's mouth hangs open, and she looks both floored and elated. "Really?"
He nods. "Really. It'll fun-just like old times. Besides, it'll be a great break from playing dirty politics all day. I'm ready to help build something that matters, again."
"God I love you so much," she says, shaking her head slowly.
"I love you, too."
She grabs his hand across the table. "This is perfect. I've been terrified that Tom will screw things up, and April always gives up when stuff gets too stressful. I thought I'd be stuck working double time all week next week to make up the difference."
They head straight to city hall from J.J.'s, and as they're walking inside Leslie asks again, "Are you sure you're okay with this? I mean, this weekend is supposed to be a vacation for you."
"Yes. This is exactly the kind of vacation I need right now. Trust me."
Before they get down to work in the Parks Department, Ben hands out all the gifts he bought people. Donna and Tom both get a bottle of the expensive hand cream he's seen Nichole using. He gives April a bag of gourmet doggie biscuits for Champion and matching authentic FBI t-shirts for her and Andy. For Chris he has several varieties of herbal tea from a place Devon had recommended. He gives Jerry a pack of novelty socks covered with pictures of the White House. And for Ron, he has a framed photo of a plate filled with a giant steak, two strips of bacon and three fried eggs, with a little placard at the bottom reading: "Give me Liberty or Give me Death."
Ron nods solemnly. "Thank you, son. It's perfect."
Ben thinks he detects the gleam of a tear in the corner of Ron's eye, and feels his chest swell with pride. Leslie's given him a few tips on how to pick the perfect gift, and it seems to be working.
"What about for me?" whispers Leslie, when she gets a chance.
"I'm saving yours for later," he whispers back.
She squeezes his hand, looking suitably tantalized.
They spend the rest of day making phone calls, interviewing prospective vendors, coordinating schedules, and visiting the various festival venues to make sure the advance preparations are well under way.
As they drive around town, Ben feels almost like he's taking a tour of Pawnee for the first time all over again. He takes in all the ramshackle neighborhoods, the quirkily named small businesses, the roving gangs of raccoons and the impeccably maintained parks.
Pawnee still feels smaller than it used to-but in a good way. In a cozy, homey, welcoming way.
Later that evening they finally run into Andy, who pulls Ben into a big bear hug and thanks him for the sweet FBI gear. He struts around a little, showing off his cadet uniform. "The best part is," he announces, "next we get to go to the range to start training with guns!"
The thought of Andy Dwyer, armed and dangerous, makes Ben quake in his shoes. Maybe Andy won't be able to cure him of his fear of cops, after all.
Once they finally get back to Leslie's house that night, Ben finally pulls out his present for her.
She rips off the paper ravenously and then sits trembling in astonishment as she stares down at the personally inscribed copy of "Promises to Keep," by Joe Biden.
"For Leslie-all it takes to make a real difference is a determined heart and a committed spirit. Never give up the dream. Yours, Joe Biden," she reads in a shaking voice. "Oh my God oh my God oh my God!"
She bounces up and down and stares up at Ben with misty eyes. "Joe Biden knows my name?"
Ben nods, grinning at his triumph. "He does. I knew he was going to show up at a fundraiser I attended, so I took the book with me and stalked him all night until I was able to corner him. I think I caught the eye of a couple of secret service guys, but I got to him. I told him all about my amazing girlfriend who's been a dedicated public servant her whole life and who just came back from underdog status to win a seat on her local city council. He was very impressed."
She gasps and clutches the book to her heart. "My story impressed Joe Biden?"
Joe actually sounded a little bored, but Ben doesn't intend to mention that. And the man did say several very nice things. "He was. And I have a picture on my phone of him shaking my hand to prove that this really happened, and I'm not just making it up."
Leslie sets the book down and grabs Ben's right hand. "This hand touched Joe Biden." Her voice is filled with awe, and she raises Ben's hand to her face and starts nuzzling it.
He chuckles. This reaction is even better than he was hoping for. "I did have to wash it. Sorry."
She leaps at him, pulling him down for an intense kiss.
"I want you so bad right now," she gasps when they finally come up for air.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
+.+.+
Sunday evening, as Ben finishes gathering his things together to repack for his flight back to Washington, Leslie starts getting fidgety and nervous.
They've had a great weekend working on the Harvest Festival and relaxing around her house. Best of all, there's only thirty days left until the election, and then he'll be coming home for good. He doesn't know what she could possibly be so nervous about.
Once his suitcase is ready and waiting by the front door, Leslie sits him down on the couch and takes a deep breath. "Before you leave, there's something I need to give you." She reaches under the couch cushion and pulls out the same red jewelry box that he used to give Leslie her first campaign button, and that she used to tell him to go to Washington. It's a box that holds so many memories, and so much promise.
He feels a sudden flutter of butterflies in his stomach as his brain spins trying to puzzle out what the box might hold this time. He smiles and raises his eyebrows. "Can I open it?"
She nods and lets him take the box.
He opens the lid.
And frowns. "It's a business card."
She nods, grinning. "For a realtor. A great realtor. The best realtor in Pawnee."
"Okay. Well. That's. . . nice." He has no idea what this means. Is he supposed to guess? "Does she need a business manager, or something?"
Leslie laughs, breaking the tension. "No, silly. I'm selling my house."
"You're what?" This is absolutely the last thing he expected to hear. Well-hearing that she's eloping with Jean-Ralphio would be the last thing, but this is pretty far down the list. "You're not-you're not," he flounders, "leaving Pawnee, are you?"
"Never!" She looked offended at the suggestion. "The only way I'd leave Pawnee is if my new address is 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. You know that."
"Yeah. I know. So what's going on?"
She clasps his hand. "As you might remember, this was my grandmother's house, and my mother inherited it. And then she sold it to me for a bargain when I got my job as Deputy Director of Parks and Recreation. Which my mother also helped me get."
Ben nods. He's picked up on all this information over the time they've known each other.
Leslie gets a quiet, sad-looking smile on her face. "This house is packed to the rafters with memories of the old me. The one who had trouble keeping a best friend for more than a year at a time or a boyfriend for more than two months. The me who didn't know how to cut through red tape and get big projects done. The me who pined over things I couldn't have, and the me who was afraid of taking big risks. But that person doesn't exist anymore, and I'm ready to put those memories behind me. I'm ready to start fresh. And I was hoping . . ." She squeezes his hand a little tighter. "I was hoping you'd help me pick out a new place. For us to share. Where we can make new memories. Together."
He doesn't even have to think about it. "Yes. Absolutely. Let's do it. Let's get a house together."
Her face lights up, all traces of nervousness vanishing. "Yay!"
He kisses her slow and deep, in a way that's come to feel so very familiar yet still thrills him every time. He smiles against her lips. "Pick out the most likely prospects with this realtor of yours, and set up some appointments for November 8th, the day after I get back. We'll go look at them together."
"That sounds perfect."
+.+.+
Ben's only thought about marrying one woman other than Leslie. She was his college girlfriend, and she saved him the trouble of proposing when she dumped him a month before graduation.
It wasn't until he came to Pawnee and met the most extraordinary, unexpected woman he'd ever known that he started thinking about marriage again.
The thought has been popping into his brain off and on for a very long time, now, but he's always managed to push it back. His relationship with Leslie started under such precarious circumstances and followed such a rocky path that he never felt like marriage was something he was ready to bring up. He's kept setting the thought aside, telling himself he can think about it once things are finally normal for them.
Only things have taken a lot longer to get normal than either of them ever expected.
But now, normal is right around the corner.
He spends the whole flight back to Washington wondering if two months of normal will be long enough, before he brings it up. A Christmas proposal might be nice. Or New Year's Eve-that's supposed to be romantic. At least, he thinks it is.
He wonders what Leslie thinks. And he wonders what kind of rings she likes. And what size her finger is.
He'll have to make time to call Ann about it. Ann will definitely know. And he knows from experience that she knows how to keep a secret.
+.+.+
Ben's life is busier than ever for the final four weeks leading up to the election. His contact with his friends in Pawnee dwindles down to a trickle again, but he's pretty sure they all understand how busy he is. And he'll have plenty of time to catch up once he moves back.
He throws himself into the work, making every effort he can to push Congressman Murray toward a sure reelection. The numbers look better every week, but the margin is still too thin to slack off.
+.+.+
Ben prints out some of the pictures of this year's Harvest Festival when April emails them to him, and hangs them up in his office.
Jen expects everyone to keep their eye on the goal of winning the election, but for Ben, that's just another stop along the way. His real finish line lies somewhere else.
The pictures help him remember that.
+.+.+
Leslie reminds him at least twenty times in the weeks leading up to the election to send in his absentee ballot.
"You and I both know how much every vote matters," she chides him.
He dutifully mails in his ballot two weeks before Election Day, and asks the rest of his team what they're doing about voting.
Devon and Rebecca both forget to request ballots from the states they're registered in. Nichole got her ballot, but only plans on voting for President because she has no idea who any of the local officials up for election are. Jack's not sure if he's registered.
Ben shakes his head, but doesn't say anything.
All business and no heart. Yeah. That's why he's going back to Pawnee.
+.+.+
Ben and the rest of his team are in Ohio on election day, ready to celebrate (or not) alongside their candidate.
Ben finally meets Congressman Murray a few hours before the election results come out. The guy wears too much cologne.
After the polling numbers they've been tracking all week, no one on the re-election team is surprised when Murray's victory is declared shortly after the polls close.
While everyone else cheers and claps in the ballroom they've rented for the party, Ben slips into one of the conference rooms where they've been working all day to watch Zeller's concession speech.
She's gracious and dignified, standing surrounded by the family and friends who supported her grassroots campaign. As he watches, Ben can't help but think that he was one of the architects behind the defeat of a truly deserving candidate. He helped one of the good-ole-boys beat out an intelligent, courageous woman.
A woman who reminds him more than a little of Leslie.
It was a good job-just like working as a State Auditor was a good job. He's gone from slashing budgets to destroying dreams.
He's not sure what job he wants next, but he officially has two that he can cross off the list.
+.+.+
He and Jen both fly back to Washington early the next day. She, to return to her oft-abandoned apartment. He, to finish packing up his hotel room to head back to Indiana.
She sits in first class, so Ben manages to avoid the inevitable conversation until after they land. Jen catches him in baggage claim and pulls him over to an alcove with a row of seats where they can have something resembling privacy.
"Ben, I think you know what I'm about to say." Jen gives him a pointed look.
"I do." He nods. "But my answer hasn't changed."
Jen wrinkles her nose like she's caught a whiff of something rotten. "Seriously? You're giving up a shot at a great career to go back to Nowhere-ville, Indiana?"
"I am." He doesn't bother trying to defend Pawnee to Jen. He knows it won't do any good.
She shakes her head. "I don't get it. You could live with Leslie in Indiana part of the year, and get a place in D.C. for the rest of the year. People make long-distance relationships work all the time. And with all the contacts you'll be making, you'll probably be able to find her a job in D.C. in no time."
Nope. She really doesn't get it. "Leslie doesn't want a job in D.C. And we both know that if you get hired for a campaign in Oregon, you'd want me to spend at least part of my time in Oregon. Or Missouri. Or Delaware. Or wherever else you get hired."
Jen shrugs. "So you'd be on the road a lot. Travel can be fun. Meeting new people, seeing new things. Come on!"
That's absolutely the worst argument she could possibly bring up. "I spent most of a decade on the road," he says firmly. "I'm not doing that again. I'm ready to settle down."
Jen spreads her hands in disbelief. "But why Pawnee? You and Leslie are smart and talented. You could both do so much better."
"No, Jen. We can't." He searches his find for words that she'll understand. "Pawnee is special. It's full of passionate, fascinating people who care deeply about their community. It's a town where you can become a life-long celebrity for being a high school athlete. It's a place where small businesses won't succeed unless their names are either puns or alliterative. It's a place where you can get amazing waffles twenty-four hours a day. Where the mayor's dog is a household name. Where people are more worried about raccoons than about gang violence or drugs. It's one of the rare towns where any public forum sponsored by the city government is guaranteed to get more than thirty enthusiastic attendees. It's the only place on Earth where you can go to a candlelight vigil at a monument dedicated to a little horse every Friday night." He can feel his smile growing broader with every item he adds to the list.
"It's a place where I'll never get bored, because there's always something bizarre and fascinating going on. It's a place where I'd feel safe and happy raising a family." His heart races a little at that thought. "But most importantly, it's full of people who I care about, and who care about me, too. I haven't had a place like that since I was a kid, and I'm not about to take it for granted."
Jen still looks baffled, but he doesn't care. At this point he's not saying these things for her-he's saying them for himself.
He knew all these things before he left for Washington-but it took six months away to realize just how important they are.
"Pawnee is-well-it's home. And that's good enough for me."
He leaves Jen sitting there in the airport and gets a taxi. It's time to finish packing his things.
It's time to go home.
+.+.+
Ben Wyatt isn't entirely sure what he wants to do with the rest of his life, but he's absolutely, without a doubt certain about where he wants to spend it, and who he wants to share it with. As long as he's got that, he has plenty of time to figure out the rest.