He's standing next to the window holding the infant in his arms, rocking her softly – left, then right; left, then right – as he watches the city lights go out, one by one. She opens the door slowly and pauses for a minute just taking the moment in; she takes a minute, a minute to just be happy. She finally steps in, letting the door close behind her with a soft creak.
"Making most of your day, huh?" He turns around, slowly, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Well it's only Father's Day once a year. And it's Little Miss Smiley's first one. So I thought I'd get a head start." She returns his smile, but then it fades, a drop of ink dissolving in the water – was it ever there? She kisses the infant's head and then she's on her toes giving him a soft peck, her fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck.
"You couldn't sleep." He looks at the floor; he doesn't want to see her face fall, the worry creep in, once again. No, he can't witness it. It's not the lack of sleep that gets to him; it's what it does to her that worries him.
"No. Not really." Inhale. Put the baby down in the crib. Exhale. Draw his finger slowly across her chubby cheek. Inhale. Turn around. Her face. Exhale. "It is getting better Liv. It's just taking a while. We knew it would take some time." He walks over to her and pulls her into an embrace. Inhaling once again; but this time it's not air that fills his lungs – it's her that gives him life.
"I know." She murmurs it softly, the sound almost lost in the fabric of his shirt. "I just… worry. I don't know how to help you. I don't know how to make it better. And that just… I hate that."
He steps away, suddenly there's space; space between them – emptiness. He lifts her head and bends his down – eye to eye. "This. This right here, this is helping me. You are helping me. Every day. Just having you around, talking to you, holding you; seeing you across the room – it grounds me, it helps me, it heals me. You heal me."
She smiles and takes his hand, their fingers interlaced. She leads him to the couch. "Lie down."
"What are you doing? We haven't been cleared to do that yet."
"We're not having sex in the nursery! We're cuddling. And I might fall asleep. And you might fall asleep. And if you don't that's OK. Because you can just listen to her breathe and that, that will help you heal. And I get to feel your heartbeat under my cheek, so I'll know you're OK and I won't worry. We'll just lie here, listening to her breathe and for a little while everything will be perfect. And then, then we can go back to swimming against the current."
"I love you, you know that." And they settle down on the couch, their limbs intertwined; her head on his chest, his heartbeat easing her to sleep. And he, he lies there listening to them breathe and that's enough; to him it's everything; it's a way to heal.
When he awakes the sun is already high and she is long gone; the quiet of the night replaced by a symphony of clinking sounds, a harmony of muffled voices coming from the kitchen.
"Zoey!"
"What, he likes chocolate!"
"Yeah, I'm with Zo, Liv."
"I know he likes chocolate, but unless you want him to become diabetic ease up with the icing."
"Can I then at least add more chocolate chips to the next batch?" Karen chimes in with a mischievous grin, winking at Gerry and Zoey; a gesture Liv doesn't miss.
"Sure, add more chocolate chips." She says with faux-annoyance in her voice, adding under her breath, "You three will be the end of me."
"So what are you doing?" He startles them and they all look up, obviously disappointed.
"Dad! It was meant to be a surprise." All three kids attempt their best pouting faces.
"Well, when you're planning a surprise, quiet is usually a good idea." He kisses tops of their heads as he joins them in the kitchen, finally wrapping his arms around Liv. She relaxes into them, her back molding to his chest and they just stay that way, locked in the embrace.
"So, a surprise, huh?" He whispers softly in her ear.
"I didn't know about it. I woke up this morning and they were already baking." She turns her head slightly and he kisses her – it's quick, but not rushed; it's soft, but still strong – it's like gravity, pulling them both in. "You slept." She says with a small smile. He just kisses her again and pulls her in even more, he needs her close; and she loves it so. Three hours of sleep - it's a small victory, but they'll take it; they'll take anything.
"More chocolate?"
"Gerry!" She reprimands, but the strictness of her voice is lost in her smile.
"I'm with the kids, Liv! I think they should add more chocolate."
"Oh you do, do you?" She turns around with a smirk and reaches for the bowl of icing. "Well, alright then." And with that she's taking a handful of icing and smearing it on his face; the shock and indignation soon replaced by his signature grin as he reaches down and tries to return the favor. The kids join in and in mere moments the chocolate chips are flying, getting stuck in the icing on their faces. He finally manages to get the bowl from her hands and she tries to run away, but he catches her by the waist, spinning her around as Zo and Karen attack him with more icing, trying to help her out. Suddenly, it's a full-blown fight – girls against guys. They're all in a trance; lost in the sugar and the laughter when a soft cry from the baby monitor breaks them out.
"I'll go get her." Zoey says, almost before anyone even registers the change.
"Can I help?" Karen asks, reluctance clear in her voice; she's still working out her fear of babies; her unease.
"Yeah, you two go. You'll need to feed her and probably change her. Ger will help us clean this up." He shoots him an apologetic smile; but it has to be done. "And then we'll all get ready and we can go to the park."
It takes them hours to actually leave the house. Liv does the dishes, Fitz and Gerry scrub the floor and the cabinets, but the icing is sticky and smudges oh-so-easily. Karen and Zo play with Nur until she needs to be changed again, forgetting to get ready themselves. So by the time they're reaching the park the sun is already making its way down. They play soccer for a while, while Liv and Karen chat sprawled out in the Sun. It's relaxed, it's comfortable, it's fun – it's what he's always wanted; it's his dream; his reason to live. They stay like that until the evening, until the Sun begins to set, the light barely peeking through the gaps between the tall buildings.
"Why don't you guys head home, and I'll stop by the Chinese takeout to get us some dinner?" He says as he pulls his sweater on; cashmere perfectly hugging his body.
As he's making his way home, bags of food in hands he sees a man. A man he knows, or at least a man he used to know, but it seems years ago; a lifetime ago. Across the street, a river of cars between them, there's Cyrus Beene. He stumbles out of a bar; he's hours past drunk; no, now he's completely gone. He should cross the street; he should go there; he should say – he doesn't know what he'd say. He's the reason the man is this way; he's the reason he has whiskey for breakfast, lunch and dinner; he's the reason his life has fallen apart. He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. He doesn't move. He doesn't go to him, he doesn't talk to him. He stays there and looks away. He looks away, but that image is all he can see for the rest of the evening. He walks away, but it follows him. That image, and the familiar guilt.
One by one the kids go to bed and then it's just them. She stands in the doorway and looks at him, she waits for him, but he just stays where he is – he can't sleep; no, he knows tonight he wouldn't be able to get away from the dreams.
"Go ahead, I'll join you in a bit."
She nods her head; at this point she knows that's just what he says; she knows he won't come to bed. She turns around, but then changes her mind, walking over to the couch. She kisses him deeply and he looks up, slightly surprised.
"It's just taking some time." She says with a small smile; the worry seemingly gone. "I left your iPad in the nursery, the book you got from the kids is on it."
She turns around to walk away, but he doesn't let go of her hand; he pulls her back. "You're amazing. Thank you." He just kisses her palm and holds her hand to his lips; breathing her in. She plays with his hair for a moment and then says, somewhat wistfully, "Happy Father's day Fitz."
She doesn't sleep. No, she worries. She's just mastered the pretending; for him. He doesn't sleep. No, he worries. He wishes he could pretend, for her, for them; but he can't. Every once in a while he closes his eyes and all he can see is the image of a broken man, stumbling into a busy street. He wishes he could help, but he can't. So he'll just pretend it's not real; he'll pretend it was just a bad dream. Just another dream haunting him.
This chapter was actually meant to be Fitz in therapy, but that will be the next one. This one was just meant to be a bit of Father's day fluff, but then, somehow it got a bit heavy and dark (which actually happens to my writing a surprising amount).
Hope you're all having a lovely Sunday, and well that this didn't put a cloud over it (in case it did, have some icing to cheer you up).