A/N: Another short one, unfortunately. Here's to hoping that my playlist has something a little…cheerier tomorrow. Or at least a song to help the story live up to its M rating - G. xxxxx
Just Looking
by: Stereophonics
His whiskey wasn't strong enough. The water wasn't hot enough. Sure it stung and left large swatches of bright red skin wherever the water touched, but it just wasn't hot enough. Nothing, it seemed, was enough to make Fitz feel something.
The numb, uncaring had been quick to creep over him and consume his soul and all. One day, things made sense. Or as much sense as they did in Fitz's world. Then, suddenly, they didn't. Olivia was gone. His son was gone. And he was stuck in their wake - expected to look happy. Every bit the proud, newly reelected president who had fought a tough, and sometimes losing, campaign.
It was pure madness.
Slamming a hand against the shower knob, Fitz twisted it as far as it would go. The water wasn't hot enough.
He closed his eyes, allowing the stinging water to cascade through his curly locks and slide down his face. It hurt. If nothing else, though, pain was a feeling. It was something. More than he had known in a long time.
Leaning a hand against the warmed, tiled wall, he allowed his mind to drift back to the last time he had seen Olivia. He hadn't known then that she was plotting to disappear. Things had been good. Or as good as they ever were for the two of them. He'd built her a house, damnit.
Then, out of nowhere, his son was dead and she had disappeared.
The sound of his skin slapping against the dark tiles resounded through the large room. Tears stung at his eyes - sometimes he wasn't quite numb enough. Now lukewarm water ran down his chest in rivets, matting his hair on his chest.
Images of what his life could have been, should have been, flashed before his eyes. Jerry should still be here. He should be off at school, sending the occasional text throughout the week to check in. Or the monthly phone call begging for more money. Fitz would, naturally, lecture the boy first, but he'd eventually cave. Jerry was his son after all.
Mellie…well there was no place for Mellie in Fitz's dream future. He didn't know what she was doing. He didn't know where she was and, frankly, he didn't give a damn. She wasn't his future.
Olivia wouldn't have disappeared. She'd be here now. She'd be standing under the lukewarm spray, looking every inch the goddess he knew her to be, and he would be worshiping at her altar. They would have taken on the whole country by now. After all, with Olivia by his side, he was invincible.
Instead, she was missing. His son was dead. And he was stuck with the 'perfect' wife - at least when they were in front of a camera.
His gaze focused on the silver blades laying on the stone shelf. A million questions flew through his mind. A million reasons presented themselves as he reached a shaky hand toward the beckoning silver. Yet the chaotic, jumbled mess in his head couldn't present even a tentative reason to stop - to drop the cold metal now resting in his palm and leave the ever chilling water behind.
After all, Olivia was gone and his son was dead.
The water wasn't hot enough. And his whiskey sure as fuck was not strong enough.