A SECOND CHANCE

Part One

At that time of the night, the hospital is very quiet. Patients are trying to sleep, nurses and doctors speak in hushed tones. Eli has always liked it that way, particularly these days: as it reflects his dark and somber mood.

There is light emitting from underneath Fitz's door. He knocks, softly, not expecting to get an answer. After a few seconds, he pushes the door open, hoping against all reason that Fitz has left and forgotten to switch off the lights, knowing that it's unlikely. Why is he here, Eli wonders, heart sinking… he shouldn't be here. He should be with her.

It occurs to him that a few months ago, he would have never wanted Fitz to be with Olivia. After all, Fitz was one of his longest standing friends, and therefore more than twice his daughter's age. Eli had been furious when he found out that they had slept together, because initially he could only view the relationship as an abuse of power on Fitz's part; clearly Fitz's had taken advantage of his beautiful and naive daughter, who had grown up to know and rely on him as a surrogate father figure, during a time (in which he can admit to now) he had failed to support and parent Liv himself. But, that's what tragedy does to you, he thinks bleakly. It makes you reconsider everything. It makes you wish for things which you thought you would never want.

He is about to call out, but stops himself, unprepared for the sight that greets him: Fitz slumped at his desk, head buried in his hands. Fitz looks up towards him, face wet with tears. Eli has never seen his friend in such pain before, not even when Mellie died. "I can't do this anymore, Eli… I just can't."

"Fitz. Please. You've both been through so much… give it more time, please".

Fitz shakes his head. "Eli… you don't understand! Every time I try to help, she pushes me away. Every time I tell her how much I love her, she throws it back to my face. Every time I tell her that there's nothing anyone could have done, she gets angry with me and tells me that I should have seen the signs since I'm supposed to be such a good doctor." He swallows. "This morning, I snapped at her. I tried to explain to her that I was grieving too. She refused to hear it. Every little thing I did wrong, every bit of hurt I've caused her, since the very beginning… she brought it up. We had a row. We said some terrible things to each other. Things you can't take back." Softly, painfully, he adds: "We're destroying each other, Eli. And it has to stop. Now."

Eli doesn't know what to say. He hadn't fully realised how bad things had got: too wrapped up in his own grief, too focused on the marital problems he was having with Maya, Liv's mum.

"What are you going to do?", he asks finally.

He sighs. "I've resigned. I'll leave in a couple of weeks…don't know where I'll go. It doesn't matter. All I know is… it's better for both of us if I leave." He falls silent. Then, with bitterness: "It's so ironic really. A year ago I was running off to Vermont because I was terrified that if I stayed, I wouldn't be able to resist my love for her. Now I'm running away because I'm terrified that if I stay, I'll end up hating her as much as she hates me."

"Fitz! She doesn't hate you! Surely you know that."

"Well, she can't stand being around me. Same difference", he snorts.

Eli's pager goes off. "I've got to go. Listen… I'm on all night here. Here are the keys to my place. Go and get some sleep there. We'll talk tomorrow."

But when he comes back an hour later, there still is light under Fitz's door. And this time, he doesn't go in. For what is there to say, in the face of such despair?

-x-

She has been standing in front of the baby's bedroom door for ages, willing herself to go in, unable to do so. Her heart is beating strongly in her chest; her throat feels very tight; her eyes are brimming with tears. She can no longer push aside her memories of that terrible night, two months before. Going in to give Josh his midnight feed, surprised that he hasn't woken for it yet. The small, very still form in the bed, not rousing, not crying, going grey, barely breathing. The sound of her screaming. Fitz running in in sheer panic. The attempt at resuscitation in the ambulance. The pediatric cardio-thoracic surgeon and Quinn battling and failing to repair the hole in the heart. Screaming at Fitz that he should have realised there was a problem. The funeral. The church packed with friends and colleagues. Standing next to Fitz, frozen in despair, almost hurtling herself at the coffin as they lower it into the ground. Not getting out of the house for days on end. Crying until she thinks she no longer has any tears left in her, only to start crying again. Witnessing Fitz's pain but being unable to reach out to him, to respond to his love: just this all consuming rage and grief. Since he stormed out after their row, a few days ago, Fitz hasn't come back home. All she knows, from her father, is that he is staying at his house, but from Fitz, nothing, no phone call, no text, no email. She can't blame him. Being apart from him for a few days has enabled her to get some perspective, and to realise how much she has been hurting him since Josh died. She doesn't think they can recover from this ordeal as a couple – particularly not after their row, where they threw at each other all their inadequacies and failures as persons and partners. Still, she owes him an apology, and to ask for his forgiveness. Whether he will want to give it is another thing, but at least she has to try.

And now, she is standing there, sensing somehow that today is the day when she has to go into that room and start packing away Josh's clothes and things. As she pushes the door open, she fears for a few seconds that she is going to faint. She steps inside resolutely. The room is exactly as it was when they left it two months ago, rushing out with the paramedics, stricken with terror for their son. Slowly, methodically, without giving herself time to think and reminisce, she starts sorting out baby grows, tee-shirts, socks, toys… surprisingly, she is able to do it relatively calmly.

"What are you doing?"

She is startled: she was so absorbed with what she was doing that she hadn't heard him come in. She looks at him and is struck by how tired and gaunt he looks. "Fitz… I… I thought it was time to… you know",

"Ah. And it didn't occur to you that I might have something to say about that? That I might want to do it too? No, of course not. After all, I was just his father and on top of it failed to save him…"

"Fitz! It's not like that! Look… I just…"

"Save it, Olivia", he cuts her off, "I'm not interested in whatever you have to say."

"But I just wanted to spare you this pain…" she whispers to his retreating back, even though she knows he can't hear her. She tracks him down a few minutes later in the main bedroom. He's throwing clothes into a suitcase.

"Fitz, what are you doing?"

"I'm leaving Washington tonight. Your dad has arranged for me to work at his friend's clinic in Ghana for a while. They're desperate for staff." He's spoken in a clipped, cold voice which he's never used with her before. Whereas these days apart have made her take stock of her appalling behaviour towards him, in turn it has hardened his grief and despair into anger towards her.

She's stunned. That was the last thing she expected. "But, Fitz, why?!"

He whips around and faces her. "You're asking me why?!", he asks incredulously. "After what's happened over the last two months… you're asking me why?!" He is breathing heavily, trying to control his temper. Suddenly, he's overcome by exhaustion. "Forget it, Olivia… I'm done with trying to explain myself to you. You can stay and live here if you want or move out… whatever. Frankly, I don't care."

He finishes his packing quickly. She tries one last time. "Fitz, please. Can we at least try and... talk?"

He snorts. "No. I've wanted nothing more than sit down and talk with you since… since… but you..." He can't bring himself to finish. What's the point? After a long pause, he adds: "It's too late, Olivia." He walks past her, out of the house.

She goes and stands by the window, watching him get in to his car, willing him to turn around and at least look at her, one last time.

He doesn't.