Fic: The Trial by Leslie Knope - Part 3/?

[stiffleaves]

Title: The Trial by Leslie Knope, Part 3/?
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Pairings: Leslie/Ben, Ann/Other, Ann/Chris
Spoilers: The Treaty. A couple of winks to both The Comeback Kid and Campaign Ad but squint and you'll miss 'em.
Rating: R, verging on PG-13 for this part
Word count: ~10,000 (this part, but broken up into 3 sections spanning 3 days)
Summary: Continuation of parts 1 & 2, includes Leslie struggling to figure out her strategy for the trial, an overdose of Triple-A (Ann, Andy, April), Leslie and Ben reaching a new relationship milestone, and Ben teaching a college class. Special guest appearance by Amy Poehler's Hillary Clinton.
Notes: This is in response to a prompt for the Leslie/Ben Holiday Fest by saucydiva: An AU where Leslie has to, for whatever reason, in whatever capacity, conduct an ethics trial. It could be for Chris, or make it really fun and have the accused be Ann or Ben. Basically, I want to see what happens when Leslie has a love of government versus love of friend dilemma. Full disclosure: The official number of Pawnee really is 14 and two or more women are technically forbidden from gathering in public unless one is a midwife. I didn't make that up. Some other bits of Pawnee weirdness in here come from Leslie's book. Also, there is a moment involving Andy and Shauna Malwae-Tweep that might make more sense if you know the producer's cut of The Master Plan. Oh, and in my head, the women's representative looks like and has the same badass attitude as celebrity chef Elizabeth Falkner. A huge thank you to rikyl for the help and wonderfully practical insights! And comments are the right call - Ben promises.

Part 1 | Part 2



Chapter 3

I. Nobody will get fired.

"Here we go - two protein-rich breakfasts. Eat up, ladies!" Ben clapped his hands after placing the plates of scrambled eggs and toast in front of them. Loud. It was just so fucking loud. Her head was going to split open.

"You don't have to be quite so gleeful about it, Benjamin," Leslie said in a tone that fell sadly short of threatening and ended up sounding merely petulant. She and Ann were glaring daggers at him from their identical positions at the kitchen table, elbows propped on its surface, pounding skulls cradled in their hands. The wrath of the hungover for the well-rested.

"On the contrary, this is quite amusing to look at from the outside, m'dear."

"Uuuurgh. Honey, no offense, but I hate you so much right now."

He laughed wickedly. And loudly, which was so much worse. But then he came up behind Leslie and massaged her neck with one hand and she leaned into it until the back of her head was propped on top of the chair's backrest. When he bent over her and gave her a brief upside-down kiss, Ann had to look away and focus on her eggs.

"Can you two be ready to go in about 15?" Ben asked. "I'll drop you off at your cars on my way to work."

"Thanks Ben." Looking up, Ann found his hands still resting on Leslie's shoulders. It was a matter of course with them, she knew. The self-censorship of the well-oiled machine that was their relationship only went so far in the presence Leslie's closest confidante. When you knew all the sexual details of someone's past and present relationships and when that person's partner had at least a very good inkling that you did, you apparently kind of lost the right to mind about these people doing sweet, affectionate, couply things in front of you.

Oh, but that wasn't fair. She didn't mind seeing Leslie happy; she loved seeing Leslie happy. She was just disgruntled because she didn't really want to go home after spending the night in sweet oblivion in Leslie's guest room. And her head and body ached, which made it seem a little harsh and a little unfair and a little unreasonable to expect her to face the mess that awaited her with the customary confidence and can-do-spirit. It was something like that anyway. And no fault of Ben and Leslie's, who were being kind and wonderful and who didn't walk on eggshells around her, for which she ought to be grateful.

Eggshells. Eggs. Better to focus on something as innocuous as that.

"Are you gonna be alright?" Leslie asked as she pulled Ann into a hug in the Bulge's parking lot.

"Yup. I think so."

"Okay. I'll see you at work then. And we should talk more about everything and we can make plans and figure it out and it'll be okay, Ann. I promise." Leslie gave her a squeeze for emphasis. Ann had to smile. It was well nigh impossible not to when you had Leslie as your cheerleader.

But then Leslie drove off in the direction of city hall and Ann still had to drive all the way home to Eagleton and change before she could join her there. At least Graham would have left for work by now and she wouldn't need to explain where she'd been. Or listen to him trying to convince her for the umpteenth time that they should try to make this work. Or deflect his increasingly hostile accusations that she just wasn't trying hard enough.

As she drove towards it along the street lined tastefully with maple trees, she allowed herself to see the house as if for the first time. She noticed, with strange exhilaration, that it was beautiful. Grand even, with its white wood and stately columns and the large wraparound porch, and situated in an equally seductive neighbourhood of well-to-do and well-kept homes. In many ways it was the very essence of the American Dream. Patches of shade and sunlight filled the car with a flickering light that was tinged with the verdant green of the overhanging canopies. The light spoke of wholesomeness, of leisure, abundance.
Then she pulled into the driveway and the illusion shattered. It was like a veil descended, dulling the colours, choking the sunlight. For all its impeccable upkeep and the vigilant Neighborhood Watch the house felt more like those forlorn kind of places that attracted street prostitution and meth peddling. There was a whiff of bitter disillusionment and a gust of insufficiency of feeling caught her across the cheek.
It was overwhelming. There was the Graham problem and the Chris problem and the trial problem. Then there was the potential job loss problem and the morale problem and there had been the Leslie problem, which she felt better about now, she did. She just needed to keep reminding herself that, though in her hungover state she felt like she was missing some protective outer skin, things were looking slightly better than even a few days ago ...

≈

"Piggyback ride, piggyback riiiiide!"

A loud clatter as the door to the emergency stairwell slammed open and shut.

"Oh my God, the stairs! Andy! Watch out!"

"Slow piggyback ride, sloooow piggyback riiide."

"Dude, this is awesome. Check out those spiderwebs! This is like the catacombs of city hall."

The voices were getting louder. Andy and April. Great. They were just around the corner now. There was nowhere to hide. She tried running her index fingers underneath her eyes to hide the mascara smudges.

"Hey! Ann! What are you doing here?"

April slid off Andy's back. "Yeah, Ann, are you part of a race of undead spiderpeople secretly living in the bowels of city hall? That's super creepy."

"I … I was just … looking for a sh- shortcut … " Crap. Her voice was was still practically drenched in tears.

"Wait, no. You've been crying. It's like when you never wanted me to know because you're all 'grownup' and 'mature' and you don't cry except when we watched sad movies, but you keep forgetting that Bert Macklin, FBI has x-ray vision. Right into your feelings." He pressed two fingers to his temples, like that was where the 'x-ray vision' lay, and looked at her intently, almost grimacing.

Ann tried a laugh, but it came out like a sob.

"Okay, you got me. I've … I've just had some bad news, that's all." She combed through her hair with her fingers. The sooner she convinced them she'd regained her composure, the sooner she could get out of here. Her hair was still mussed from when Chris had run his hands through it and pulled, almost but not quite painfully, minutes earlier. She had to look a fright. Queen of the spiderpeople indeed.

"Oh. Well, Andy, come on. Let's go." Yes, April, thank God for that unfeeling callousness of yours for once. Go. Please just go.

"No way! What bad news? You're not dying, are you? You gotta tell me, if you are ..."

"Andy …"

"I'm not … dying, okay? I'm just … I …" Uh-oh. There was the Graham problem and the Chris problem and the morale problem. Now to be supplemented by the trial problem and the potential job loss problem and, worst of all, the Leslie problem. She couldn't even think about it without sobbing uncontrollably. Which she was doing again, right now. Shit.

"Aw, Ann." Andy encompassed her in one of his epic bear hugs. It felt … good, actually. She really needed one right now.

"TCHEEEERP!"

A horrifying screech that had all three of them looking up in alarm.

"Oh my God, what is that?" April asked.

"Raccoons. It's gotta be raccoons." Ann would have recognized their shrieking anywhere. Like an animal was being attacked, and you were about to become that animal.

"Let's get out of here!" Andy propelled her up the stairs, his arm still around her shoulders. April followed. Ann saw three raccoons round the corner at top speed, teeth bared, just before the door slammed shut behind them.

Next thing she knew, before she could so much as get her bearings, she was sandwiched on a bench between Andy and April in a deserted corridor.

"Okay, now tell us," Andy was saying. "'Cause - and I used to have to explain this to Ben, too, until he would finally admit I was totally right all along - it's better to just get it all out there. And - we - are pretty much like everybody's relationship counselling and general boxed-up feeling liberation squad, right?"

"That's right," April agreed. Way to do a 180 there, April.

"Yup. So. We're here to help. Lay it on us."

Ann looked around to see where they had ended up and noticed they were sitting under a field of wildflowers. Wildflowers without the risk of bees. Oh God, Leslie …

That did it. The floodgates opened. Words came pouring out with no particular rhyme or reason.

"Well, okay, you know how Graham and I … we've been having … problems? Sure you know. Everybody knows. Well, they're not getting better. We, we just don't … work together and I … on Tuesday I filed for divorce."

Andy's eyes widened. April was curiously silent, but Ann didn't risk looking over at her. Now that she'd started, she needed to get this out. All of it. At least while she was talking about it, she felt a little less like sobbing.

"Anyway, so then, I don't know what happened or what I was thinking, but I ran into Chris after and he was so nice and encouraging and one thing led to another, I guess, and well …"

Andy inhaled sharply in surprise. "No way! You slept with him!"

"Oh God." Ann hunched over, hung her head in her hands, practically between her knees. It was all so very, very … something. Fucked. It was fucked.

"Yeah, you think that's like a pattern with me or something? Me and Chris, I mean, after a breakup? There was Mark and then there was Chris. Making out with Chris in a bar, and now there's Graham, or was Graham, and there's Chris again …"

"Ooh, I mean, maybe so …"

"Yeah, probably is. Anyway, whatever about that, right? But that's not all."

"Ann … "

"I know. I know, right?! But it's not." She took a deep breath. All of those things - Graham, Chris and associated feelings - she could maybe have dealt with. They were like a dull, prolonged ache. But then there was that whole other set of troubles and those were an acute, stabbing pain in her chest.

"Okay, so the, the … with Chris …"

"Sex," April supplied helpfully.

"Mh. So the sex with Chris- it happened a couple of times. But it obviously can't happen because not only is it a terrible idea, but he's also technically my boss, now, which is so ... you remember what happened with Leslie and Ben ..."

"Oh my God, I hadn't thought of that!" Andy smacked his palm over his open mouth. It would have been comical if anything had been comical right then.

"Me neither," said April, but without change in her resolutely neutral expression.

"Yeah, well, obviously neither had I … and it did happen. A couple of times. And you know how Chris is about rules, so now … after we … you know, just now … he said he felt he had to call for an ethics trial about this, which I should have- ... and he said he's gonna ask Leslie to conduct it! So now I could lose my job and Leslie … Leslie … " She couldn't get the words out.

In her mind, she was already fired and there was this huge, enormous, unbridgeable gap between her and Leslie - and right when she needed her best friend so badly, too. It seemed fitting, really, that they should have had their first big fight about starting to work together in city hall and now they would have their last about ... She had to clamp down on the thought. She couldn't go there right now, not in front of Andy and April, not anywhere. She had to just keep telling herself it was no use speculating what Leslie would do, neither anticipate the worst nor hope for the best, just see what would happen and then, maybe, maybe she could make it through this ...

There was a pause. Andy scratched his head, looking puzzled. Of course, these were grown-up problems, not things you should expect Andy Dwyer to have solutions to.

She was about to thank him for listening, when April said, "Well, if there's going to be a trial, good thing Leslie's doing it. You'll get off easy."

That … what? Sarcasm? No? Was April trying to be helpful? April? The world really had gone off the rails.

"April, no offense, but she's not gonna get me off easy! She's more likely to freak out and get really mad and I really don't-"

"Nah. You're freaking out. Leslie's actually pretty cool. It'll be fine." April stood to go. In her peripherals, Ann could see Andy fervently nodding his agreement. She felt his pat on her back and, despite herself, was strangely reassured. Even though her mind forbade her from entertaining the possibility on its own, now, when it was came from the outside, even from Andy and April, she couldn't stop that glimmer of hope from reigniting itself, couldn't stop believing that yes, maybe, probably, April and Andy had a point after all. Maybe Leslie would be cool about it, maybe her job could be saved.

Meanwhile, April continued, "Anyway, you should go clean yourself up. Or don't. Whatever. But you look like you're actually living with raccoons."

Ann actually had to chuckle at that. "Thanks April. That's so sweet. But I actually hope you're right." She shook her head at the strangeness of that statement.

"I am. Look in the mirror. You'll be horrified," April said as she and Andy took off in the direction of the elevators, while Ann crossed the corridor to the restrooms.

≈

Yes, April had been right about that - and about Leslie. But now, less than a week later, Ann sat in her nice newish car in front of her beautifully refurbished Eagleton home and felt the painful chafing effect of the dissipating alcohol on her emotions. She decided to give in to it, gave herself exactly ten minutes to sit there and cry, get those raw emotions out of the way, before she pulled herself together and went in the house and out again in five.

++++

"… so flunk it. Whatever. Who cares what he thinks? He's such a dork anyway."

"No no, God no, that's embarrassing! He already beats me at Mario Kart and now he's all 'Andy, I'm all for challenging yourself but maybe you should, like, rethink everything twice before taking this class, man' and he's going to beat me at all this super-smart scholarhood stuff too and I'll look like an idiot. Oh, hey boss!" Andy was sitting cross-legged in the swivel chair behind his desk, forehead propped in hand, looking fretful. April jumped down from where she'd been sitting on Leslie's own desk to make room for her.

"Morning. This about Ben's class?" She put down her padfolio and leaned against her desk, ready to be briefed about Andy's academic conundrums of the day. Today, they were a welcome distraction.

"Yes, you've got to help me, Leslie. I don't know what to do! He won't cut me like any slack at all and despite that we're brothers and all."

"Well, you know what I say. There are no shortcuts to any place worth going. Academically, that is. That might not actually apply to politics."

"That. Yeah. You have a point." Andy nodded. "And this has been super amazingly helpful, by the way!" He held up The Complete Idiot's Guide to Women's History. With a few pointers and a number of carefully selected books from Leslie, Andy had actually been faring pretty well in women's studies. As per Leslie's suggestion that it was always best to write about something that interested you, he'd recently completed an entire 15-page paper on Lara Croft - Feminist Icon or Cyberbimbo that had garnered a C+. He'd bought her flowers for her help and said he'd never been so proud of anything.

"But I mean, look at this! He wants the first one by next Monday!" Andy said despairingly as he waved a piece of paper in her general direction. She took it because helping Andy succeed academically was kind of one of her projects. Even so, she could see at a glance that Ben's class would be a whole new kind of challenge.

Introduction to Local Political Affairs - Benjamin Wyatt, MA (Office hour: Wednesday 10-11:30 AM, room 2.107)

Class requirements:

• No more than two absences (with doctor's notes!).
  
• Weekly essays: every week, you will hand in an essay of a minimum of 2,000 words on a given topic that will prepare you for the following week's in-class discussion. You can miss TWO weekly essay deadlines, but ALL essays MUST be handed in by the end of term.
  During this first week, please prepare an essay on the local media's portrayal of local affairs: Pick one local media outlet (the Pawnee Journal, a local TV show, talk radio … ) and follow that outlet's reporting on local politics for a week (minimum of five days). Alternatively, you may also choose to focus on one specific issue pertaining to local politics (make sure you can find enough coverage of it to write your essay first; and yes, you may use several sources if you go the single-issue route). Based on your observations, your essay should address the following questions: What local political issues (or aspects of your issue) are talked about? Do you think these issues are portrayed adequately? What is the tone of the reporting? What conclusions can you draw about your source's attitude towards local politicians and their work?
  
• Class participation …

"And it's already Wednesday and I've no idea where to start and … argh … what am I supposed to do?"

"Trash it and take Stage Movement. It's only an elective."

"April! But I know you're just pretending not to care and secretly want him to succeed. You're not fooling anyone." April rolled her eyes but Leslie knew she was right. "So, here's what you do, Andy." She grabbed a stack of Pawnee Journals from one of her papers trays. "Take these and look for articles on prop 1238. They're all highlighted. Then you come with me to the interview on it tomorrow and read about it Friday and write about what they printed versus what I said. And you can ask me if any of that has anything to do with what I actually meant." She smirked as she winked at him.

"Oooh, that could work." Andy looked excited but skeptical. "Here's the thing though, isn't Ben gonna know you're helping me?"

"Oh, I'm sure he will, but then how many students can say they're already actively involved in City Hall? There's no way he can hold it against you! Plus, since it's about the women's representative, it ties in really nicely with your major." She grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Andy looked at her with open-mouthed glee and even the corners of April's mouth were twitching upwards. Beating Ben at his own game was fun for all.

"So how are things in Parks, April?"

"Boring and nonessential. Yesterday Jerry ordered a new dog park rules sign in Comic Sans. But I hacked his email and replaced it with the font from the SAW IV poster."

She shook her head as April slid out the door. Tempting though it was, now was not the time to worry about park signage. Letting go of micro-managing the Parks Department when she had bigger fish to fry had been one of the harder lessons to learn since she was elected. No, ever. Like that time Tom and April had joined forces in painting the office walls black and red overnight as part of a creative reimagining of Chris's latest rebranding task. Leslie had passed by the Parks Department that night on her way to a secret emergency City Council meeting on whether the official number of the city of Pawnee should be raised from 14 to 15 or, as Leslie thought, to 66,218 because that was the city's population and after all Pawnee was nothing without Pawneeans. It had taken every ounce of will she had not to go investigate why the lights were still on in Parks at 11 PM. Come to think of it, she probably should have, but you know what they say about hindsight.

Now she closed her office door behind April, then turned and stood in front of it still holding on to the handle. This trial business had her feeling jittery. She really didn't want to be interrupted while she enlisted the help of her assistant. Who, in what a seemed a cruel twist of fate, happened to be another one of Ann's exes.

"Alright, listen up. We've got a special project to work on this week. It's kind of sensitive, so I need you to keep it confidential. By which I mean, don't talk about it with anyone unless I tell you to."

"Oooh. Got it, boss." Andy nodded earnestly. "So what's up?"

"I've got to conduct an ethics trial against Chris and Ann on Monday."

"Oh right! Dang! … because of their, you know, sexytimes in the hallway, right?"

"You know about that?"

"Ann told me. Asked me if I thought her hooking up with Chris after a break-up was some sort of pattern. Ooh. Shit. Shouldn't have said that. But actually she's getting - ahem-"

"A divorce? Yeah, I know."

"Oh good. Phew!"

This stung, Andy knowing. But in a way she was glad Ann had had someone to talk to even if she'd prefer it to have been herself.

"Well, anyway. I've got kind of an undercover mission for you. I need you to go man the shoeshine stand for a bit. Ask around about any gossip. But don't talk about what you know. Very important. Find out what everybody else knows about Chris and Ann and let me know. This is to find out how many potential witnesses there are, so it's really, really important."

"I'm on it, boss." Andy put on his Bert Macklin, FBI sunglasses with one dramatic twist of his elbow, saluted her and was off.

Leslie got herself a cup of coffee, plunked down heavily into the chair behind her desk, popped another couple of aspirins. Ben's breakfast had helped, but now it was just her and the trial again. The pounding behind her forehead was returning with a vengeance. Rotating her torso, she heard something pop in her back.

She opened her padfolio. Yesterday's to-do-list was still on top. Ann. Well … all was not perfect, but they could at least talk about it now - they hadn't really, of course, but she definitely felt that they could, after last night -, so she crossed it off. Trial. Going around city hall asking the department heads for their cooperation had been easily as uncomfortable an experience as a diplomatic mission to Boraqua, Venezuela. Only librarians liked to rat on their colleagues. But at least she'd been able to keep moving. Today … there was nothing for it. She'd have sit here and devote a whole other page to her as yet nonexistent strategy. And then another and another, ad infinitum till Monday. So she ripped off the top page, crumbled it, missed the trash can. She didn't get up. Coming back up after bending over would only make her headache worse. Besides, there was something scrawled across the second page …

Nobody will get fired, she read. It was in something that only vaguely resembled her hand and she couldn't remember writing it. Much less writing it in huge letters that went diagonally across the entire page and underlining it four times with increasing ferociousness, if the dents in the paper were any indication.

Nobody will get fired, she thought. Let it repeat itself in her mind. It was obviously a drunken scrawl written some time after she'd hugged Ann to her chest with fierce protectiveness. They'd both swayed to If I Could Turn Back Time and burst into tears and said how much they loved each other over and over and over again. That she remembered.

And yet … wasn't there a certain clarity in that drunken thought that she couldn't quite reach now? Who should be punished? Ann for what could only have been a moment of weakness after filing for divorce from her husband of less than a year? Chris for indulging that weakness? She felt mostly sympathetic with Ann, sure, but then Chris had been the one to insist he be put on trial and she recalled Ben saying how none of his relationships ever lasted longer than a couple of months, which was really sad if you thought about it … She didn't know. Who was she to know? And what could any number of potential witnesses possibly add to the understanding she, as their close friend, already had of their emotional entanglements.

Here, then, was a thought. Nobody will get fired. Simple. Decisive. A thought and a strategy. Assemble the committee, get statements from Chris and Ann. Get them straight.

And then Leslie would explain, with all the authority of the City Council behind her, "Ladies and gentlemen, what we have here was a regrettable lapse in judgment on both sides, but not, I think unforgivable."

She would stride up and down in front of the committee as she uttered the words with thoughtful deliberation and perfect confidence.

"Are we really going to be so cruel and cold-blooded as to punish a woman who, having just braved the sick-making lighting and horrible odours of the fourth floor, sought comfort in the superhuman strength and eternal enthusiasm and the all-American good looks of Pawnee's most conscientious public servant? A woman who is indispensable both to City Hall as Pawnee's Health PR director and to St Joseph's Hospital as the world's most beautiful nurse?"

She would pause for effect, allowing the committee to get a good look at Ann, who would look just the right amount of chagrined and poised and beautiful.

Then she would continue, "Are we really going to sentence a man, who in his long solitude merely yearned for the simple human connection to his bewitchingly beautiful girlfriend of years past, of what must feel like a different lifetime altogether? A man who, as City Manager, has been so ethically pure and scrupulous he would have no scruples firing even the very best of his best friends if the city code called for it! And believe me, I know."

She would pause again to let them remember her own ethics trial and how dutifully Chris had conducted it. It would play right into her hands that two out of the three committee members had been there. They'd overlook the slight exaggeration of course; it was really more like artistic license.

Then she would deliver the final blow, her voice rising passionately like she was Winston Churchill rallying all of England behind him for the Battle of Britain.

"Look with me into the faces of these two people, both so astonishingly attractive that I'm sure you'll agree the desire to see each other naked has to be almost irresistible. And say no. Let us say, 'No, we cannot, we will not allow that to happen'! Let us say instead, 'Nobody will get fired!'"

Yes, that was it! She would privately make Chris and Ann promise her it wouldn't happen again and they'd be out of there in ten minutes. What, eight you say? I see your eight and raise you. Seven! Chris would smile tears and point two fingers at her and say, "Leslie Knope! That was - literally - the most persuasive argument anyone has ever made in the history of humankind!", and Ann would smile a beautiful genuine smile that said at least one of the weights had been lifted off her shoulders. She could make this happen, she was sure of it. Now, how would it go, exactly?

Ladies and gentlemen, she began to write on a new page …

"Nobody will get fired," she said with confidence as she closed her padfolio hours later and left the office, practically skipping out the door. Finally, she had a plan.

++++

II. Women's representative

Okay, so perhaps nobody was getting fired, but somebody might get killed.

It was Thursday morning and Leslie had taken a detour to the Parks Department to make sure the dog park sign ended up being in Helvetica. When she got to her office, she found two people already waiting for her in front of it. Though 'waiting' wasn't really the word for it.

"- so sorry, Ann. I absolutely think you should. And - you have to come stay with me. I have literally the most energetically synchronized guest room in the world. You will feel better straight away." Chris had his arm around Ann's shoulder and she was looking up at him hopefully and -

"What the hell! Chriiis? Ann! What the hell is going on here?"

That snapped them out of it. They flinched and moved a healthy three feet apart.

Nobody said a thing while she unlocked the door and ordered them into her office with a curt "In. Both of you. And no touching!"

++++

Oh God. When on earth had Ann’s life taken such a spectacularly wrong turn that she'd ended up here, in a chair next to Chris in Leslie's office, receiving a well-deserved dressing down for publicly consorting with the co-accused in her own ethics trial?

Through her hands covering her face, she could hear Chris scrambling for an explanation and practically feel him wringing his hands. "Leslie, I'm so sorry. I was just passing by on my way to the commissary. Did you know they serve three varieties of amazing low fat bee pollen infused yogurt shakes now?"

"Really, whose idea was that?" Leslie asked with a bite that was lost on him.

"Mine. It was my idea." Peering cautiously through her fingers, she could see him smiling broadly and pointing two thumbs at himself. They were quite a pair. She felt such a peculiar mixture of anguish and embarrassment, she couldn't even look at Leslie, much less talk to her, while Chris had actually - could it be? - something like circles under his eyes. His already faulty sarcasm-detector had completely given up the ghost under the duress of Leslie's righteous anger. She ought to intervene. If only she could muster the will to lift her head out of her hands.

"Anyway, I realize that was completely out of line. However, I was extremely concerned at finding Ann in front of your office in what was clearly a massive amount of distress. So I did my best to help - and - if I went somewhat overboard in offering- "

Oh well, now. 'Massive amount of distress' was not entirely accurate. It was more like, she'd finally figured out what she had to do, but hadn't known exactly what to do about it. And with that resolve and the sense of urgency behind it, she'd come to see Leslie, but had run into Chris instead. At which point, somehow, all her best intentions seemed to have gone awry. He always just threw her off.

"Ann! What's happening? What's been going on? Ann! Chris, stop talking. Ann, talk to me!"

Oh, that didn't sound so angry. More frustrated and more than a little worried. Okay then.

"I was just coming to tell you that … well … I have to move out! I really do. Things at home haven't been great for a while, but since I filed for divorce … I just think I have to move out. I don't think I can stand it anymore. Last night I didn't even go home until almost midnight and I told Graham I didn't want to talk about it and we still spent all night yelling at each other and I just can't go back there. Can I? I have to move out, right?" Yup, that was it. Now that she said it aloud, she felt even surer of it. If she ever wanted to feel like herself again, rather than this tightly coiled ball of unpredictable emotion, she had to get out of that house. She just needed to figure out the how and when and where to.

"Oh Ann. Of course you can move out! But you don't have to- you don't need Chris to do it. You're coming to stay with me."

"Really?" Relief flooded her. Thank God. It'd be okay.

"YES! Of course you are. Get out of Eagleton. I bet you'll feel better straight away!"

Chris cleared his throat. "Ahem - actually, Leslie, as representative of the prosecution you cannot be seen to associate with either one of the accused in such a way ..."

Ah, there was the rub.

"WHAT? You're not serious, Chris!"

"Yes, it's just not possible."

"But. But Ann's my best friend in the whole entire world! That's the STUPIDEST rule I've ever heard of!"

"I'm afraid the city code is unequivocal on the matter. The taxpayers pay us, so the prosecution can't be seen to favour one side over the other. Think about the kind of story this would make in the press-"

"Urgh. God damn God and all His horrible filthy creation!"

"What?" said Ann and Chris, mutually taken aback.

"Sorry, that's from … I've been reading The Crimson Petal and the White. Which is incredible, by the way."

"Yeah, I know. I gave it to you." Ann was the one with the fetish for all things Victorian, thank you very much.

"Anyway. Goddammit. What are we gonna do?" Leslie was pacing in front of her desk. "Oh, I've got it!" She stopped abruptly and Ann could see the excitement take her over, like she was struggling not to bounce off the walls. "How about this? Youuuu ... move into Ben's place! Ann! It's perfect! You can take his room and, and he can just stay at my house! Problem solved! And the city code couldn't possibly object ..."

This was … wow. "You mean you, Leslie Knope, will allow your fiancé, Ben Wyatt, to move in with you?"

Leslie looked thoughtful for a moment, then broke into a smile. "You know, if you're gonna put it like that … yeah. I think I will. Anything for my best friend."

"You know you guys' relationship is not exactly what would be considered normal that way right?"

"Eh. Normal shmormal. It works for us."

That's when it occurred to Ann that she'd just as good as agreed to share a house with Andy and April. She put her head back into her hands and wondered if it was a credit to Leslie's occasional surprising deviousness or just a happy accident that she'd been so dumbfounded by this sudden willingness to cohabitate with Ben that she hadn't even realized what she was saying yes to. There was no way to know for sure.

++++

"Leslie, I don't think there's any doubt whose fault this is.”

Listening to Claudia Falkner was like listening to herself, Leslie thought. If she had short spiky blond hair and an unshakable no-nonsense attitude, that was. Sometimes it made her feel inadequate. Thankfully though, Falkner was also an excellent listener. She was everything a women's representative should be. Unfortunately, she'd been laid off two years ago due to budget constraints, but since then she'd been active in several women's groups in Pawnee, from the fun Girl-on-Girl Gaming Guild (GGGG) to the philanthropic Women Opposing the Male Egotistical Nature (WOMEN). She had founded most of them herself. It officially made Falkner one of Leslie's favourite people in the universe. Plus, in a city whose municipal statutes still technically forbade two or more women from gathering in public unless one of them happened to be a midwife, surely a women's representative in city hall was indispensable. She would be the number one go-to person for all female public servants, as well as the general citizenry, in matters of gender equality, and she'd be tasked with ensuring that equality was actually achieved in city hall and within the context of all public projects. Reinstating Falkner had been their joint mission for the past three months and things were heating up. Proposal 1238 was going to be voted on in next month's City Council session.

For the last half hour, they'd been discussing Leslie's interview with Shauna earlier that afternoon. Given Leslie's track record with newspaper interviews in general (abysmal) and Shauna Malwae-Tweep in particular (even more dismal), it had gone surprisingly well. Really, it was Andy whom she had to thank. Hunched over a notepad, he'd been peering at her and Shauna with what passed for aggressive concentration with him but had really looked a lot like constipation. Every few minutes, his eyes had gone comically wide behind the thick-rimmed glasses he only wore when April wasn't around and, as a matter of pragmatism, at PCC ("because, Leslie, they made me look all scholarly-like like Ben and it's totally helping my grades"). He'd scribbled furiously for a few seconds, frowned and crossed something out, his pen scraping the paper loudly enough to be heard on the recording. Leslie had always suspected it was really the combination of somebody taking notes on what you were saying while they were also recording you that caused her trip all over her own words and - lo and behold! - it seemed to have had the same effect on Shauna. Without a trace of irony, she'd agreed Leslie's headline suggestion sounded great. And for the record, it had been "Lucky to Be a Lady in Pawnee? You Betcha! How Girl Power is Getting Back in (City) Government - Read All About the Not-So-Secret Surge of Your Sisters on City Hall and Why it'll Be a Stunning Success", and even Leslie herself had to admit that one wasn't her best effort.

Then Leslie had explained why they had to postpone the public forum Q&A with Falkner that had been scheduled for next Monday and the conversation had inevitably turned to the subject of the trial. Of course, Falkner had an iron-clad opinion and was not afraid to voice it.

“- don't think there's any doubt whose fault this is. He's the City Manager, her clear superior. He's not the one going through a divorce. You yourself say it was him that broke off their previous relationship and that she took it pretty hard. That alone is enough to label this an abuse of power by a male supervisor to exploit his female subordinate. The statistics are clear. I'd be happy to be a witness in the trial and present some of them."

"Well, what do you think my strategy should be then? I've kind of been thinking … that um …" Why was she embarrassed to admit she'd figured nobody needed to be fired? Or even reprimanded too harshly or spoken to very sternly at all.

Falkner had no such trouble getting to the point. "Here's what I think. Obviously, you need to set a precedent. You can't allow a superior to get away with this kind of behaviour. I don't know what your relationship is with Mr. Traeger, but you can't let that get in the way."

"But I just really don't think he was doing it on purpose though. It was dumb, but I don't know about … malicious."

"Listen, divorce can stir up all kinds of feelings. Abandonment, depression, you name it. It's not unusual to try to grasp at the straw of a past relationship when you're feeling that emotionally vulnerable. Ann's obviously not the one at fault here. But if you don't make it very clear that he is, Traeger is bound to make it look like it. I've seen these kinds of things play out more times than I can count and it's a simple matter really. Either him or her."

"Hm … well ..."

"The bottom line is, Leslie, that he's the superordinate and men in positions of power need to have better control of themselves than that. They often don't, and they go unpunished. All I'm saying is, do the right thing. And if you need me to come back you up, I'm only too happy to. Otherwise I'll see you later next week."

"Okay. And thank you. I'll, I'll let you know, I guess."

"Do."

Leslie sat back at her desk after Falkner left and eyed her padfolio skeptically. She knew what she'd find if she looked inside and it no longer seemed like such a brilliant strategy. But what was she supposed to do then?

Well. It was true that Chris was kind of an asshole, wasn't it? After all, what woman would just give in to her ex ripping her clothes off in the middle of her workplace without asking for any kind of explanation? And then proceed to allow the same thing to happen another THREE times! It was preposterous really.

Unbidden, a memory flashed in her mind.

It was of a Danish-Peruvian war that had basically been a lover's quarrel in front of a bunch of teenagers, fuelled by sexual frustration.

"Oh, that's interesting. The resolution passes, with flying colours. Denmark is formally condemned. Bam!" Ben had proclaimed with cocky smugness and she'd felt such fervid desire, she either had to yell right back or jump him and rip all his clothes off, high school students be damned.
And then, as they'd been riling up their respective coalitions, she'd been able to feel him right behind her, like a source of heat. He'd glanced at her, too, again and again, and she'd known, because every one of those glances had hit her back like a hot shock to the system, like a solar flare. The surges of arousal had radiated painfully right down to her toes. And there'd been such a wetness between her legs the entire time, she'd secretly worried if she wasn't about to start dripping all over the assembly hall floor and for fuck's sake, Ben, just take the three strides over here and grab me and drag me out into the hallway, slam me into a wall, and kiss me hard enough to bruise ...

She gasped as she stamped down on the memory. Even now, if she let it loose, she'd have to do something about that stirring in her loins. But Ben was on the other side of town, lecturing, and there was no telling who might pop in at any moment ...

Okay. Fine. So yeah, there might have been a time when Leslie herself would have given in to having all her clothes ripped off and being ravished in the workplace without asking any questions whatsoever ... but only to Ben. And that was clearly different because they should never have been broken up in the first place! They belonged together! It hadn't been right for Chris's stupid rule - or anyone - to keep them apart!
And also it was different because through all of it, all the frustration and anger and tentative attempts at friendship, she and Ben actually had had better control than that. They'd sat, alone, in a chemistry lab and even though Leslie had fantasized about making out in science labs all through high school and college, they'd just sat right next to each other and tried to convince each other and themselves they could just be friends.

Chris and Ann on the other hand ... In the first place, if there was a rule keeping them apart, then, well, she couldn't say she entirely disapproved. She didn't like what Chris had brought out in Ann when they'd been together - that health-craze and fussy endorsement of salad that wasn't really her - and she certainly didn't like the way he'd made her feel when he was done with her.

Still - she didn't really believe in that picture of Chris that Falkner had just painted with a very broad brush, did she? No. She was sure he hadn't meant to "abuse his power" or anything like that. In a million years, she wouldn't have stood for that if it had been Ben. Even if Chris was many things Ben wasn't, she was sure the fact that he was her boss played no part in it here either. Neither Ben nor Chris ever really acted the part of Big Scary Boss Man. Leslie had ordered both of them around plenty of times, even when she'd just been deputy director of Pawnee's smallest - best! - municipal department. Ann wasn't quite so strong-willed of course, but she was no shrinking violet either ...

But it all came down to the crucial difference, didn't it? She and Ben had been in love - a deep, important, potentially-forever kind of love. Chris had admitted himself he wasn't in love with Ann, while Ann was clearly not herself right at this moment. Falkner had been right about that much.

So, if there were extenuating circumstances for Ann's behaviour - and there was compelling reason to argue that that was indeed the case - then the bottom line, Leslie decided, was this: Just because you didn't know a law didn't mean you couldn't be held accountable. Chris knew the rules better than anyone and just because he could be kind of oblivious to people's emotional states that didn't mean he hadn't actually, in some way, exploited Ann's, now did it? His was a sin of omission; his lack of control and his disturbing lack of questioning of what was happening were the real reasons everything had gotten this screwed up!

Plus, he'd been really super-annoying this morning. It was galling how he'd forbidden her, Leslie, his own prosecutor for God's sake, to let Ann stay with her after offering that same thing himself not five minutes earlier. How DARE he dictate what she could and couldn't do to help her best friend through a rough patch? When without his bad judgment none of them would even be in this mess!

"Damn you, Chris Traeger," she muttered and snorted in disgust as she jerked her padfolio open again and started plotting his destruction.

When she left work that night, her stomach was a nauseating pit. This new strategy was anything but feel-good material. It involved everything Falkner had suggested and more. Its goal was to punish. To that end it made it sound like Ann had been a barely willing victim in this whole affair. Which, if she could make the committee believe it - and she was sure she could; not toot her own horn or anything, but the whole thing was pretty damn persuasive -, virtually ensured Chris would be out of a job. Maybe that was how it had to be. After all, this couldn't just be about getting her friends off easy, could it?

And no, Ann wasn't going to like it very much either, but big deal! She had messed up too and this could be her punishment, for all Leslie cared. At least she'd still have a job when this was over. She clenched her jaw against a wave of queasiness. If she had a job to do and that job was to set a precedent, then that was important. This was bigger than herself and bigger even than Ann and Chris. She had one opportunity to strike a blow for the good of women everywhere - or at the very least the good of working women in Pawnee. She was damn well going to do it and do it right. She was going to make an example of Chris, even if that meant she'd be throwing up in the nearest bathroom during recess.

++++

III. The ethics of government

Friday was moving day and everybody took a half day. Leslie was putting the last box of Ben's stuff into the trunk of her car just as Ann pulled up to the house at 2 PM. Andy and April's house. And hers. Good God.

Ben swooped Leslie up into his arms, they kissed and waved at her before they got into their respective cars and drove off. Andy came running towards her own car, grinning from ear to ear.

"Aaaann! Ready to move in?"

"Yes! Let's do this!" His enthusiasm was infectious. She had no illusions about this not turning into a string of messes that she'd have to clean up, but for the moment, she was going to enjoy the fact that there was no more Graham and no more Eagleton in her immediate future. Instead there was Andy, good old lovable Andy, who was many things but never mean-spirited. And there was April, who was utterly mean-spirited, but not like Graham in that way that made you want to cut your heart out with a spoon.

In fact, when Andy said, as the three of them were carrying her boxes towards the house, "Hey Ann, can you make us some of that awesomely delicious quiche you make later? Pleeease! We can't cook! Obviously. Or make hot-sauce do those amazing things it does for you."

And April added, "Yes, Ann, I hope you brought all your cookbooks 'cause you're our kitchen slave now."

Ann felt like a cloud had finally lifted.

++++

"Ben?"

"Yeah?" He turned his head from what he was doing. Which was carefully lining up a whole array of action figures on a shelf above the desk in his new study, her old junk room. They were all sealed of course. It required a delicate hand to make the irregularly shaped boxes stay upright at just the right angles.

She moved into the room and hugged him from behind, pressed her cheek to his shoulder blade. "You should … um … I mean, if you want, you should put some of this stuff on the shelves in the living room, too. There's some room."

"There is?"

"Mhm."

"Since when?"

"Since now."

He turned around in her arms. His eyes sparkled with the smile that had spread across his face. It still took her breath away.

"Really?"

"Ye-es. And I'd like you to. In case that still wasn't clear enough for you."

He chuckled and then he kissed her with abandon, deeply and tenderly at the same time, and ran a hand across her cheek in a way that made her feel like she was precious.

He bounded out of the room and downstairs with his arms full of Luke Skywalker and comic books and - fucker - a calzone cookbook of all things. Leslie laid a hand on the surface of his desk. She felt a little bad, if she was being honest with herself. She'd dismissed Ann time and again, telling her their living arrangement worked for them. Because it had, for her. She liked sleeping next to him nearly every night, but she also liked the space to get away. To be able to lip-synch to Journey songs in front of the large bedroom mirror, dressed in nothing but a towel, without anybody grinning at her. It wasn't that she minded the grinning, exactly, it was just that sometimes she felt she needed to be alone to be herself.

Did she need a whole house to do that in? She hadn't really thought about it. Things had just been so convenient, hadn't they? Separate houses but mutually exchanged keys; both her clutter and his orderliness kept intact.

She'd even asked Ben a couple times if he hated that they were living apart, technically, but now she thought that had to have been a leading question. He'd had that look of disbelief and that smile that somehow said, I can't believe you're here and I can't believe you're letting me do this with you and I really don't know how I deserve this when she asked him to move in. It had made her realize that he'd been so ready for this, he'd all but had his things packed. Probably for a while. At least, that seemed a fair assumption, since he'd proposed, which was months ago now.
She sighed as her eyes strayed over his pinboard and found a yellowing picture of them with Li'l Sebastian at Harvest Fest, probably the first one ever taken of them together. Well. It was done now. She knew he was happy. But, she was realizing with some guilt, happy and satisfied weren't necessarily the same thing.

She should probably bring up the wedding again sometime, since they hadn't even so much as mentioned it for … four … five weeks at least and she understood now that he was just being patient, waiting for her ...

She moved to leave, but noticed a binder labeled "Spring semester 2012 - lecture outlines" on his bookshelf, which rooted her to the spot.

≈

In March 2012 Ben got an offer to step in for a political science lecturer at PCC who'd set himself on fire in the middle of Pawnee's largest corn field. It had been part of his crusade against Sweetums' 100% pure and natural corn syrup, the consumption of which in the form of Frooties! soda pop (really just corn syrup) he'd blamed, not unreasonably, for his wife's untimely death from heart failure. The damage to the field had been minimal; it had rained just the day before. (The damage to him was not reported in the press.)
It was the sort of temporary gig that Leslie and Ben both knew was likely to lead to Ben getting an actual job offer come the fall semester. The timing was convenient/inconvenient. He'd be back to job hunting once the campaign ended anyway, but they both weren't really sleeping as it was.

Nevertheless, Ben was excited about giving the potential new job a trial run and so what if his first task was a lecture on 'The Ethics of Government'. At least the press had zero interest in the goings-on behind PCC's lecture hall doors.

But it also meant Leslie couldn't come and listen. Reporters were following her around wherever she went. And Ben Wyatt, the resigned-in-disgrace Assistant City Manager, former boss, current boyfriend and campaign manager of scandal-ridden Candidate Knope giving an ethics lecture was a feast for the press that she'd present on a silver platter by attending.

It seriously bummed Leslie out. Not only was she eager to lend her support, the thought of 'Professor Ben' was also really kind of … hot. So, on the day of, she wished him good luck and kissed him goodbye and then she went up to her attic and dug up the Hillary Clinton wig she'd worn on Halloween 2008. She scoured her closet for her most Hillary Clinton-esque pants suit and changed her lipstick to a darker shade. Finally, she practice-laughed her best Hillary-laugh in the mirror - just in case it came up. The resemblance was uncanny. And even though a Hillary Clinton costume might not be the subtlest way to go incognito, this was Pawnee and this was 2012 and this was bound to work.

She called April because she didn't want to risk taking either her own car or letting Donna drive her in the Benz, plus she needed somebody to get her to the right hall and through a back door with as little attention raised as possible.

"Urgh, I can't believe I'm doing this for a stupid class! Super lame." April grumbled as they took a detour through the heaviest trafficked streets in Pawnee. "That costume is kind of awesome, by the way."

"Thank you, April," said Leslie in her majestically low Hillary voice.

They snuck into the back of the auditorium just as Ben dimmed the lights for his Powerpoint. He looked down and tapped a stack of papers against the lectern.

"Good morning. My name is Ben Wyatt and I'll be filling in for Professor Brenton for the rest of the semester. Today's topic, as I'm sure you are aware, is the 'The Ethics of Government'," he addressed the 50 or so students sprinkled throughout the hall that had the capacity for several hundred. Most of them had their heads propped in their hands as they doodled on their notepads. Their vacant expressions rivaled April's. But Ben was wearing one of his best plaids and looked to be in his element. Leslie squeezed April's knee in excitement.

"Gross. Stop it." April slapped her hand away.

But Leslie couldn't stop grinning.

"Now 'administrative ethics' or 'governmental ethics' - that may sound like an oxymoron. However, if you think about it, it is actually very important for government officials to have a code of ethics. That doesn't just mean that they have to obey the law of the land like everyone else. What it means, first and foremost, is that they’re obliged to conform to certain standards of- "

Ben looked behind himself to make sure the next Powerpoint slide opened in time.

"- impartiality." The word appeared in large letters behind him.

"Impartiality is an important concept. After all, each and every employee of the executive branch is paid by the taxpayers and has a responsibility to act in the best public interest. The public, in turn, may lose confidence in the integrity of government if it perceives that an employee’s government work is influenced by personal interests or by payments from an outside source. The most common violations of government codes of ethics also violate this principle of impartiality. For example-"

He paused again for the next slide.

"- financial conflicts of interest, such as the acceptance of gifts and payments, the misuse of government authority and resources, accepting outside employment or even- “

He didn't miss a beat, but Leslie couldn't hold back a chuckle.

“- romantic superior-subordinate relationships.”

“Uch yuck,” April said and turned her eyes towards the ceiling like she was pleading with the heavens to get her out of there.

“These can all lead to a government employee not acting in the best interests of government, but in ways that unduly benefit outside or personal interests,” Ben continued. “Now, let's look at all of these in more detail. Then we'll move on to discuss how the government ensures its employees conform to certain codes of ethics … "

If Ben knew she'd been there, he never let on. He gave her a kiss when he got back, told her he thought the lecture had gone pretty well and then they spent the rest of the day working on Leslie's new campaign ad. But that night, when he closed the bedroom door behind them, he suggested she be Hillary to his Bill tonight.

≈

She shook her head at the memory. As usual, Ben was right, wasn't he? This wasn't about beating the system to protect your friends or even about making an example of them for the good of women everywhere. This was about what it meant to work in government. Being impartial and earning the public's trust.

She went downstairs, sat on the couch and picked up her padfolio from the sofa table.

"What's that you're doing?" Ben asked. He was trying to make a miniature model of the USS Enterprise stay put on top of the TV.

"Oh, I just … I think I've finally got it. Better get this down before I forget." She gave him a lopsided smile and proceeded to outline the third new strategy in as many days. Her padfolio was quickly running out of paper, but she had a good feeling about this one. Not the giddy enthusiasm she'd felt on Wednesday, nor the terrible sick feeling of Thursday. Just the clear-headed sense of purpose you got when you gave up on controlling the result and started focusing on the work instead.

Part 4