A/N: a little glimpse into the very interesting mind of Mellie Grant. I find her character a little heartbreaking. I'd love to hear your thoughts and whether you agree with me or not.
disclaimer: I do not own Scandal etc.
Mellie Grant woke up to the shallow breaths of her husband. He was lying beside her on the big bed, tossing and turning. She slowly sat up in the dark of their grande bedroom and looked at his sleeping form. He had tossed the covers off of him, displaying his muscular chest and arms. He was mumbling. She stared at him with sad eyes, trying to understand who this man was. The man she married all those years ago had cared for her. The Fitz she knew, her Fitz, would sleep close to her, always touching her in some way.
This couldn't be him. The sleeping man before her was older, wiser, more bitter. This man, who was now tossing and turning in his sleep, was probably not hers anymore. It saddened her to think that if it was not for the fact that he was the president of America he would probably have divorced her by now. If it wasn't for politics, he wouldn't be lying in this bed now, they wouldn't even be here in Washington. She lay down again, scooted closer to him, desperate for his warmth, the warmth he no longer gave her when awake. Subconciously, he put his arms around her and sighed in his sleep, holding her close. She could feel his heart beat and hugged him closer, inhaling his scent.
"Liv..." he mumbled, voice barely audible. Mellie's heart ripped in two. "Liv..." he whispered again and she tried desperately to hold back the tears or move away from his embrace. For the rest of the night Mellie Grant lay in the arms of her husband, wishing for a time when he was still hers.