A/N: I should be putting up my next chapter of We'll Meet Again hopefully tomorrow. In the meantime, here is a little drabble.
He cut their cords.
First Jerry, slick with placenta, came into this world with a loud cry proclaiming his existence. So very different from the shy, contemplative young man he would become. Fitz didn't know at the time that the seeds of the destruction of his marriage were planted with his conception.
He wanted to throw up.
Then Karen, sweet Karen, her big eyes seemed to take in every detail of her surroundings. He proudly told his groggy wife that his daughter must be very advanced because he swore she smiled at him.
His daughter, he gave a bitter laugh.
Finally, Teddy. America's Baby perfectly timed to save his sinking Presidency. The child that prevented him from living the life he wanted with the woman he loved. He resented the boy before he was born. He never went to a single doctor's visit with Mellie. But seeing Teddy wailing against the injustice of leaving the warm womb for the cold world awakened a kinship in Fitz.
Snip. He cut their cords.
Three children. And none of them were his.
He stood at the window in the Oval Office, looking out at the Rose Garden. He liked to see Teddy run around the bushes with his nanny chasing him. He wondered if he'd ever see him again. Mellie whisked him off to their home in California, trying to hide from the media circus that would descend at any moment.
So was this the feeling of being cuckolded? Was this what Mellie felt when she found out about Olivia?
No. this was different. He could accept cheating. He didn't blink on the campaign trail when rumors were flying that Mellie had an affair. He felt irritated over how it affected the campaign more than anything else. But this …
Everything he thought of himself as a man, as a father, as a lover was a lie. None of his children were his.
Did Mellie hate him that much? Did she resent him for not suspecting the horror his own father committed? Did she secretly laugh everytime he called them his children?
He thought of all the times he imagined Olivia pregnant. Of rubbing Olivia's back as her body grew heavy with their child. Of the little girl or boy who would look like her and also have some of his spirit. All these dreams were dust now.
The door opened. She stepped inside. Her expression of overwhelming pity made him want to lash out at her. He wanted company in his pain and anger. He gazed into her eyes as she moved closer to him.
No. She was already there in her pain, sharing his loss.
Their loss.
"I cut their cords, Olivia. And none of them were mine. "
"I know, Fitz." She reached out her hand to touch him, but he pulled away.
"I just thought that someday …" He caught himself and gave a derisive chuckle. "But I forgot. There is no someday. No Vermont. No kids of ours running around because I can't have any."
No future, only today. Today meant a singular moment of pain continuing endlessly.
Olivia crossed her arms and stared at her feet. "You can have children, Fitz," she quietly stated.
"Yes, I know, we could adopt," he acknowledge somewhat dismissively. "And that's good, but I just thought …"
"No, Fitz. You are able to conceive a child." She looked into his eyes, unflinchingly.
He finally comprehended.
He parted his lips and barely whispered, "Oh." A new betrayal. A new lie. "When?" He asked simply.
"During the first campaign." Her eyes conveyed a pain he could share. A parent to an idea. A shadow. A ghost.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His curiosity overcame the numbness he felt over this new revelation.
"Because I was afraid you'd ask me to keep it." She gave a bittersweet smile, unshed tears shining in her eyes. "I was also afraid you'd ask me not to." A scenario played out in his head of him dropping out of that first race, divorcing Mellie and running off to the country with Olivia awaiting the birth of their phantom child.
But that was yesterday. He didn't pull away this time when she reached out and intertwined her fingers with his, standing next to him by the light of the window.
There is no yesterday. Or tomorrow. Only today.