Hello fellow Newsroom fans. I've been trying to write a decent Newsroom fic for some time now and the events of 2x03 finally provided me with enough of a push to get something up on here!

The timeline of this story is a little all over the place/vague and I'm gonna say it takes place during the 5+ months following episode 2x03 (obviously my own version of events since sadly Aaron Sorkin has not sent me the rest of the season). Since this is my first fic in this fandom I would really appreciate any and all feedback on this. I know it might be a bit overly dramatic and angsty, but that's what 2x03 did to me.

Anyways, enjoy. (I don't own Newsroom, etc.)

"I've been an ass."

He says this to you on a Friday evening an hour before you go on air while you're standing in his office rattling off some final notes for the night's show.

You finish your sentence and then acknowledge his statement; he clearly wasn't listening to anything you just said.

You shake your head at him and force out a small smile.

"No, you haven't been. You've been perfectly fine. Please just remember to not openly mock any of the Occupy guests tonight."

You want to get out of this room as quickly as possible because he's looking at you in that way where his blue eyes are all soft and caring and regretful and you're not sure what else, and his head is tilted at that slight angle like it always is when he wants to say something important but he isn't quite sure how.

"Mac, I think you and I both know that I've been an ass with the whole Nina thing–"

"Will. The Occupy protestors. Try to respect them. And check in with Neal before you go on for some last minute stats he has on the movement. Good luck tonight."

You interrupt him before he can detect your overwhelming urge to visibly cringe at hearing the name 'Nina' uttered from his lips and before you start screaming and crying and hitting him until you no longer have any emotions left inside of you.

He opens his mouth to speak but you turn on your heel and are out the door before he can say another word.

The last five months have been downright bloody awful and you suppose that you deserve what's happened. You don't know what you expected, but you didn't think it would be this.

First there's all the American Taliban backlash, then Maggie and the Africa trip catastrophe, then the Genoa story starts to unravel and blows up in their faces, and then…this.

This…thing, this…situation, this new alternate twisted reality you are now living in.

You actually found out about…the thing all on your own, and quite accidentally, almost five months ago.

It turns out going for a run in Central Park on a Saturday morning is not a good way to clear your head because you might come upon your ex-boyfriend and a certain gossip columnist strolling hand in hand on the path ahead of you.

Colleagues (and former enemies) do not hold hand and lean into each other while they take leisurely walks in parks on Saturday mornings. And they most certainly do not steal a quick kiss on the lips and share a small, secret smile with each other either.

You immediately sprinted in the opposite direction before they could notice you and you didn't stop running until you were a block from your apartment and your lungs were screaming for air.

You didn't feel the pain in your lungs because there was a more raw pain bursting elsewhere in your chest.

You allow yourself just one night alone in your apartment with a bottle of wine to cry and wallow and regret and feel guilty and be angry. Then you force yourself to carry on as if nothing has happened and nothing has changed and everything is fine even though something has happened and everything has changed and absolutely nothing is fine.

No one seems to notice anything different at first, Will included, which somehow makes it all the more worse.

Sloan, Jim, and Charlie are of course the ones who end up detecting that something is off after a week of short words and limited contact and distracted behavior from you. They all separately choose to confront you about it on the same day in a span of six hours. You give each of them the same short, edited explanation of events but they still all give you pitying looks that you hate.

You don't want to be the woman hopelessly pining after the man she cheated on, but it seems like that's what you've become.

The first time you see them together does not hurt the most. You were too overcome with shock to really process and feel much else.

It is the several times you see them together after that which make you feel an acute, sharp sensation that never dulls in the gaping hole which you think used to be your heart.

You try going on dates several different times over those five months but you cannot get through any of them without feeling distracted and guilty and unsatisfied and like you're cheating, which is ironic, because you're not even with Will this time and he is clearly capable of dating someone who isn't you without feeling shitty about it. You don't understand how that can be because you feel absolutely horrible and wrong after each failed date. This is probably a sign that whatever feelings Will might have had for you are now gone and you are the one who is left alone and confused and betrayed and heartbroken this time.

You hate yourself for thinking you have a right to feel any of those emotions because you don't. Not after what you did to him, to both of you. And it's not like he ever said he forgave you or that he wanted to get back together or that he still loved you. That was all foolish, wishful thinking on your part.

However you are starting to wonder if maybe you do have a right to feel alone and confused and betrayed and devastatingly heartbroken because you have tolerated nearly two years of Will's punishments and hurtful words and actions and all of his other ridiculous antics and you stayed through it all and all you wanted to know was what was on one lousy voicemail. You thought you deserved at least that piece of information from Will. And it would have been nice if he had told you that he and Nina were dating at least four months ago instead of just last week in your office right before the rundown meeting.

There are moments when you question why you put up with all of this. And then you remember that, against all reason and sense, you love William Duncan McAvoy and you always will.

You just don't know if you have enough physical, mental, and emotional strength left within you to endure much more of this soul-crushing, heart-aching torture.

I know it's a bit choppy but I needed to get this written and posted. Let me know what you thought and if you have any ideas for how to continue this story because I would very much like to. Thanks!