The night after Jerry died, Fitz didn't sleep at all. Mellie had been sedated at the hospital, so she slept through the whole, horrible night. Fitz didn't shed a tear that night, he just lay awake looking at the ceiling.
He thought it wasn't possible, but the next day was even worse. Mellie's sedation had worn off and she spent the majority of the day in Jerry's room, and the majority of that was spent crying. Fitz didn't break down or shed a tear until that evening. He thought that being President made him stronger, that being in the Oval would help him. But being a father had always been more important to Fitz, and he could no longer bear the fact that one of his kids was dead.
That night when Fitz and Mellie lay down in bed, and Mellie broke into sobs, Fitz held her tight. And as Mellie cried herself to sleep Fitz held on to her and let tears fall. Not just for his dead son, but for his beautiful wife who was now feeling something no one should ever have to feel.
The next day's funeral was even worse for Fitz. Being the President he had to put on a brave face, act like nothing was wrong, when, in fact, everything was wrong. His world was shattered. His wife's world was shattered. His beautiful wife who had endured enough already. Fitz's heart was broken, but every time he looked at Mellie it broke even more.
Throughout the entire ordeal both Mellie and Karen were sobbing. Mellie couldn't make it through any of her eulogy and Fitz's was filled with long pauses to help keep his composure. But no matter how hard he tried, Fitz couldn't keep his tears in. At first one by one, then all together they flooded down his face. Fitz took a frightened, shuttering breath and Mellie looked over at him. She silently extended a hand and Fitz took it. If they couldn't protect each other from this, then they could be stronger together.
They slept the same way that night. Mellie crying herself to sleep in Fitz's arms. Fitz silently shedding tears. Both of them holding on to each other.
Their nightly routines continued this way until one night when Mellie broke the silence.
"Fitz," she whispered roughly.
"What is it, Mells?" Fitz responded gently, rubbing small circles in his wife's arm.
"I—I know it's selfish, but sometimes I wish I'd died instead of Jerry."
"That isn't selfish, Mellie. You wish he had a longer life."
"But, then, I wouldn't feel this way," Mellie had pulled back to look at Fitz, tears streaming down her face.
"I wish I could do it too," Fitz whispered back, pulling Mellie close to him once again, "I wish I could trade my life for his."
"Fitz, also," Mellie looked around, everywhere but Fitz's eyes, struggling to get her words out, "If I had died instead of Jerry, you wouldn't be as sad."
Fitz pulled his wife even closer, trying his best not to imagine the horrible scenario in which she died, leaving him alone to survive in the world. "Mellie, I would be—if you died, I'd be heartbroken. I'd be worse. I love you."
Mellie whispered, "I love you too," and soon they had drifted back into the dreadful sound of silence.
Months later they were over the grieving process, back to normal, or how normal you can be after the death of a child. They were in a town car driving to yet another important dinner that the first couple needed to attend, both of them solemnly looking out the windows.
"Mellie," Fitz said and she looked over. Their eyes met in a complete understanding and they're bodies moved closer to each other, even if it was just the faintest bit. "I miss him."
"Me too," Mellie assured Fitz, moving her body so she was leaning on her husband and taking his hand in hers. "Me too."