Grow Up Chapter 7: Lifeline, a scandal fanfic

Here's the next one. Pt.1 is Liv's PoV, then Fitz'. I hope it won't be confusing :)

He pushes her against the door, turning the lock with his left hand; his right sliding to her ass. She moans, and he swallows it – it ignites his insides; the desire deep in his gut; something primal. Her hand is lost in his hair, the other one gripping his shoulder as he lifts her up. Their tongues long lost in frenzy; they don't know where one ends and the other begins; their limbs merely an extension of the other's body. She reaches for his belt, as he pushes her sweater off her shoulder; both desperate to feel the skin, all of it, to taste it, to revere it. Their need feverish.

12 hours earlier

She stretches in the bed, until her toes are peeking from under the covers, her fingers feeling the cool wood of the headboard. She rolls around on her stomach, and buries her head in the pillow, exhaling loudly. It's been a week. A week since she set the new boundaries, since she further built up the wall separating them; a week since the last time they exchanged more than pleasantries, or a sentence not concerning Lynn. A week since he was in her personal space, a week since she could inhale his scent, a week since she could rest her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. A week. And she hated every minute of it.

She misses him. She misses him and he's right there. He's a thin wall away, asleep in his bed, probably shirtless and… She misses him. And it's her fault. She was angry, she was angry, furious with him – the things he said, his childishness; she was furious for a couple of days. But then the anger settled, it dissipated and all she was left with was regret. And then regret, it turned into wistfulness. There's a soft knock on the door, and she lifts her head, as she calls out, "Come in."

Lynn opens the door, grinning, holding her teddy bear in her hand. "Morning." She says, shuffling in place, looking expectantly at Liv.

"Get in here." And she lifts the covers and taps the mattress. The girl runs towards her and throws the teddy bear on the bed, before jumping up herself, tackling Liv in the process. She starts tickling her, and her small body shakes as she erupts in laughter, her legs kicking the air, her small hands trying to reach Liv, to retaliate. The laughter bounces of the walls and fills the plain room; it warms it up and makes it come to life; it warms her up and makes her come to life. She eases up, and the girl calms down, grabbing the teddy bear and pulling him close to her chest. She snuggles into Liv's side, resting her head just above her breast.

"So what are you telling me about today?" She looks up, smiling.

"Today…" She says, and her lips stretch into a small smile, as she closes her eyes, "Today, I will tell you about the day you were born." And the six year-old claps her hands excitedly. "There was a snow storm the previous evening, and a crazy blizzard in Boston, and your house was completely snowed in. And your dad was stuck in LA, after this meeting he had, and there were no flights back. Everything, and I mean everything was at a stand-still. So your mom and your uncle Fitz decide to stay in, and watch a movie. And they made popcorn and hot chocolate. And your mom, she loved: loved, loved, loved hot chocolate. Especially when she was pregnant. She could have it anywhere, any time. So, Fitz made her some hot chocolate, and they're having the popcorn, watching the movie and suddenly, your mom pees her pants."

And the girl giggles. "No, she didn't."

"You're right. No, she didn't. You know what happened?" And Lynn just shakes her head, "Well, her water broke." The girl gives her a confused look. "When you have a baby in your tummy, it's swimming in liquid, and then when it's time to have it, the little sac that holds the liquid and the baby breaks and that's why it looks like you peed your pants. So, there's your mom, sitting in a little puddle of water, with this huge stomach, and she's about to have you, but everything's snowed in, and the storm is getting worse. And Fitz calls the ambulance. But your mom keeps crying in pain, and the ambulance isn't there. And then he realizes your mom will have to have you then and there, because they don't have time to wait. But he doesn't know what he's doing and he's freaking out, and then your mom figures out to call – can you guess who?"

And the little girl looks up at her, grinning, "You?"

"Yep, she calls me. And she tells me she's in labor and she needs me to walk Fitz through delivery. And I was still in med school. So I freak out, because I've only seen this done, and read about it, but I never did it – let alone taught someone to do it. So I get my book, and I open it and I start telling Fitz what he should be doing. And your mom is panicking, and I'm freaking out and then Fitz snaps and tells us both to shut up. And he calms your mom down, and he gives me a little pep-talk. And then we started. And I told him what to do and he did it, and by the time the ambulance came you were wrapped up in a little towel, sleeping on your mom's chest."

"No way." She says, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes." And she smiles, running her fingers through the girl's ginger hair. "Fitz saved you and your mommy, so he's a little bit of a hero."

"So are you." She says softly, as she lays a kiss on her cheek. "I love you Liv."

And her heart breaks a little bit – this is not how this should be; she should not be the one telling her this; she should not be the one cuddling her on a Sunday morning. But it also swells a little bit, flutters – because at least she's doing it right; at least she's not failing her; failing them. So she swallows the lump in her throat, and pushes out, in a strong, yet warm voice, "I love you too, munchkin." She kisses the top of her head, wrapping her arms around the little body tightly.

"Liv, I can't breathe." She cries into her chest, making her chuckle. She pulls back and looks into the blue eyes; they're the same shade as his – the deep blue, the light grey.

"Time for breakfast?" Lynn just nods and jumps out of bed. She storms out of the room and she can hear her scream as he jumps out from his usual hiding place behind the counter; and then it's the infectious laughter echoing through the apartment. She pulls her cashmere sweater over her head and joins them.

"Morning." She tires to sound friendly, but it comes out high-pitched, her voice sounds foreign. He gives her a strange look, and a returns a soft, "Good morning," in that baritone that makes her knees go weak.

"Coffee?" And she just nods yes, as she slips into a chair. "So what story did Liv tell you this morning?" He asks, looking Lynn, as he hands Liv the cup of coffee. His hand brushes against hers, but it doesn't linger. Her finger tingles and she smiles wistfully as she tastes the dark liquid – the ratio of milk and coffee struck perfectly.

"She told me about how you were there when mom had me. And you pulled me out-"

"Delivered." Liv interrupts with a small smile, "It's called delivered."

And the girl nods, "Yeah, about how you delivered me in a blizzard and how you're a hero." And he looks at her, a mix of sorrow and tenderness in his eyes. She offers him a smile, but he looks away, re-focusing his attention on Lynn.

"Your mom was a true hero." And she seems pleased with what he's saying, as she gets up from her seat and walks over to him, snuggling into his lap.

"What was I like?"

He looks over at Liv, but glances away quickly when she catches his eye. "You were magical. You were so tiny, and I was afraid I'd break you. And you were crying, so loudly. But that was a good thing. And then I handed you to your mom and she put you on her chest, and you just quieted down and took a nap."

And she chuckles at that. "I was a silly baby."

"Yeah." He manages to utter, but she can hear his voice break. "What do you say we head to the playground?"

"Can Liv come?" She asks excitedly, her eyes darting between the two of them.

But before she can say yes, he's saying, "No." He's running his hand down her back soothingly, speaking in low voice, "Liv needs to rest a bit today C. She's been working like crazy. So we can go to the playground, just the two of us."

"You don't want to hang out?" She asks, her lip quivering – she must have seen it from Liv.

"How about – I come a little bit later?" She says with a weak smile. She feels sucker-punched. She doesn't know if he's avoiding her, if he just doesn't want to be around her; or if he's just being nice. She can't read him and it's driving her insane. The girl is unimpressed, but she still nods her head in agreement.

"Go get ready?" He asks her, tapping her knee gently. She takes another bite of her toast and then jumps off his lap. He finishes her breakfast and picks up her plate, throwing it in the dishwasher. "I should go get ready too." He says and she's not sure if it's aimed at her, or if it's just a comment; she doesn't know if she should acknowledge it and say something.

She mumbles "OK," under her breath, and he stops in his tracks and turns around.

"What did you say?"

"Just, OK." She says, blushing, trying to cover her face by the coffee mug.

"Oh." And he just stands there, hands in his pockets, staring at her. It's quiet, and she hears the sound of her own throat as she swallows, and his breathing seems rushed, but then so is hers. He shifts his weight, seemingly unsure of what to do, and she just keeps on tilting the by-now empty coffee cup. "I'll just…" And he trails off, pointing his thumb in the direction of his room. He turns around slowly, swinging his arm unnecessarily and heads out of the kitchen. The nervous energy remains. She closes her eyes and runs her hands down her face, sighing loudly.

"Can I wear these?" She's holding up a pair of red, ladybug wellies, to go with her raincoat, grinning. "Fitz got them for me." And Liv can't help but smile, as the little girl holds on to her shoulder while helps her put them on.

They leave, and she stays alone, in her home, except it no longer feels like that, it feels theirs. She tidies the place, she flips the TV channels, she tries to read, but the book is boring. She's restless, pacing. She wants to be with them, in the park; watching her run, watching him push her on the swing. She wants to be with them, her family. She used to be happy; she used to be happy on her own, content. But now, now she can't fathom her life without them. She checks her watch for the fifth time in an hour, finally deciding she can head down. She reaches for the door, but can't find the keys. The phone rings. She lets it. It's probably someone trying to sell something. Anything else – they can leave a message. She rummages through her bag, trying to locate the metal clink of keys with her fingers. But then she stops, freezes, as the familiar voice comes through the machine.

"Fitzgerald. This is a done deal. Your old apartment is ready, your cars have been taken out of the garage, and Peter will pick you up. We have a meeting at 9. Your flight is at 6:30. Do not miss it."

As soon as he sees her walking down the street he knows that something is wrong. She averts her gaze as soon as she sees him, focusing instead on her feet. But he sees it, he sees it instantly – the anger, the spark of fury in her eyes. And something else, something that breaks his heart, there's hurt, the hurt he's seen a week ago, before she disappeared behind her invisible walls.

"We need to talk." She says to him, before bending down to give a hug to a very excited Lynn. "Hey, munchkin."

"C, why don't you go play on the jungle gym for a little bit." He says with a tone of finality, and she just nods and throws him the ball they've been playing with.

As soon as the girl's out of earshot, she hisses at him, under her breath, "Your father called. Your apartment is ready and your flight is tomorrow at 6:30." He just stares at her, blankly, as a sinking sensation overwhelms his body, crystalizing one simple thought – he should have told her.

"Liv, let me explain."

"Is he out of his mind and this is all a lie?" He can tell she's slowly losing it, she's trying desperately to stop herself from yelling, waving her hands furiously in front of her face, to distract herself. "Fitz, are you going to Boston?"

"No. Not tomorrow."

"Not tomorrow? What the hell does that mean? Since when have you been contemplating moving back there?"

"We're been talking for the past few days, and he's insisted that I join the company. Replace Teddy." He hates the sound of it, the phony simplicity. She opens and closes her mouth, but no sound comes out. "Liv-" She just puts her hand up, and shakes her head.

"I knew it. I knew this would happen. I knew you'd make her fall in love with you; she'd get attached; she'd get used to having you around and then you'd just decide to leave. I knew you couldn't handle this! Fuck!"

"You knew?" And he knows, logically he knows he should explain, but her utter lack of faith is making all his reason dissipate. "You didn't just know Liv, you were waiting. Since the moment this started, you were just waiting for me to fail."

"Can we go get pizza?" A small voice breaks him out, as she pulls his hand.

"In a bit, C." He says softly. "Just give us a minute." And the girl walks away, unimpressed.

"I was… I was waiting for you to fail?" She says indignantly. "I was nothing, but supportive!"

He lets out a laugh that sounds more like a growl, "Supportive? You've questioned everything I've don-"

"Can we go get pizza, now?" She asks, whining, pulling on Liv's sleeve.

"A minute, Lynn." She says in a terse voice, before turning her attention back to him.

"You don't trust me." He says, suddenly exhausted.

"I-" But her voice is drowned out by a scream; by screeching of tires on the wet concrete.

His eyes search the deserted playground. His anger is gone in an instant; replaced by panic and fear – he can't see her. He looks to the street, and it's like a movie – happening in slow motion. He sees a pair of red willies, the ones he got her last week, peeking out from under the car. It's all a blur. The small hand, that grips his elbow and pulls him frantically. The running. He's on his knees, reaching for the still hand, the tender fingers – lifeless. He doesn't notice anything aside from the stillness. If her limbs weren't at unnatural angles, if there wasn't a silver track of tears on her cheek; he'd think she was asleep. So still. And he sees Liv kneeling, he sees her listening, holding her breath as she tries to hear the little girl's. Her shaky hand on the girl's neck, trying to find a sign of life.

"She's alive." And it's not a whisper she lets out, it's a mere breath; but he hears it. He doesn't hear the sirens though, or the medics yelling; he just hears the soft pleas leaving her lips – "Please be OK." And then she's yelling at the medics and firing instructions; she's giving them numbers and stats; and all he hears is weak and thready; broken ribs. He doesn't understand the full extent of it, but he knows, he knows – she's not asleep. He knows she might not wake up from this. And the ambulance is slowing down, coming to a halt; she's being wheeled out and they're jumping out. They're running, trying to keep up and Liv, she's yelling at Cy. Cy – he hadn't seen him, when did he-. It doesn't matter, because they're moving again, and then the double doors open, and a nurse is pushing him back, saying something, "You can't go past this line, Sir. Sir, please step back." He doesn't hear it; the words she's saying, the language it sounds foreign; his brain can't process it. But then it's two petite hands on his chest, and a voice he hears, words suddenly have meaning, "Fitz, we can't go in there." And he understands; she's saying – it's time to let go, time to pray; to the deities of the universe; to whoever might be out there. He just stands there for a moment, lost in time and space, the only thing grounding him a shaky hand. "We should go to the waiting room. They'll update us." And she's walking away from him, and he follows her, as if entranced. Her mind is his mind.

He collapses into the chair next to hers and exhales loudly. He buries his face in his hands, the soles of his palms muffling his cries, his broad shoulders shaking violently. And he feels her hand on his knee, massaging his leg, her other hand on his cheek; her warm breath ticking his ear, "She'll be OK." And she's pulling his head to her chest; cradling him, running her fingers through his hair soothingly. He's falling apart and she's his lifeline.

And he doesn't know how long it's been; how many minutes passed, or hours – to him, it seems like days, years; time at a standstill.

"Liv." And her hands freeze, he can feel her body tense; he hears her heart beating louder, faster, in her chest. He looks up at the handsome man. "She won't need brain surgery, but we need to open her up and see the extent of internal injuries."

"Is she…?" She asks in a voice that breaks his heart.

"We sedated her. She's asleep. Don't worry. We've got her Liv." And she just nods and smiles weakly.

"Let me know…"

"Of course." He says softly, as he bends down to kiss her temple. He walks away and she reaches for Fitz' head and pulls him back to her chest. He can feel her relax as her fingers start drawing patterns on his scalp. And their breathing falls in sync.

"I trust you." She says softly, breaking the settled silence. He lifts his head, and turns to look at her.

"What?"

"You said, you said I don't trust you. I do. I trust you. I just… I'm so afraid, and confused… It's me I don't trust, not you."

"Liv-"

"No, just, please, let me finish." And he just nods his head, as he reaches for her hand. "I don't want you to go. I don't want you to move to Boston. I just… please stay. We need… I need you." And her voice cracks, a lone tear escaping her eye; a kink in the armor she so meticulously built up.

"I'm not going anywhere. I never agreed to move there. I was going, I was going to a meeting with my father to tell him to find someone else to run the company. It's not me. It's never been me. Not when Teddy was alive and… not now. Him dying, doesn't change that. It changed everything; but not that. I… I found a job here. Directing. Directing this independent movie."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asks, cracking a weak smile.

"You told me not to tell you anything that wasn't Lynn-related. I was trying to give you space. I fucked up. Big time. So I was trying to give you what you wanted; whatever you wanted, even if I hated it."

"I hated it too." She whispers, burying her head in the crook of his neck. "You know… that night, when we almost… There was this couple in the ER and their kid was hit by a car, and they were screaming at each other, and… completely ignoring the kid. And I just, I freaked out, that with us; that… and now…"

"Liv-" His voice is a tender plea.

"I was wrong." And he looks down at her, taken aback. "Letting you in, that's the right thing. Because the alternative, we just… keep fighting. And it's not good for us, and it's not good for her. We were so lost in our own drama today that we completely ignored her, we just… we literally lost sight of her, and if she… I'll never forgive myself."

"She'll be OK." And the conviction with which he says it surprises them both, makes them believe, even if just for a second. "And Liv?" She just looks up at him. "Those parents, they were just human. We're just human. You have to stop fearing feeling, so much. Sometimes, feelings are a strength, not a weakness. They, they could be our strength." She just looks at him for a moment, processing, then drops her head back on his shoulder, letting her arms rest in his lap.

"She's out of surgery." And they're both springing to their feet, listening intently. "We managed to stop the bleeding. Three of her ribs were fractured. There was a bleed on her spleen. Her left arm is in a cast. But surprisingly, and this, this is a miracle, other than that she was OK. No permanent damage, no substantial loss of blood."

"She… she'll be fine?" She asks in a shaky voice, bringing her hands to cover her mouth.

"She'll be fine. You can go to the ICU, wait for her to wake up." And she's throwing herself at him, hugging him tightly, as Fitz shakes his hand, uttering countless thanks.

When they wheel her in she looks so small, so fragile, so broken. Dark bruises covering every inch of her skin; her arm swallowed up by the pink cast; thick bandages on her forehead. So, utterly, broken. Liv lets out a sharp breath, and tightens her grip on his hand, and he just kisses her temple. He sits on the chair next to her head, and she sits at the foot of the bed, resting her hand on the little girl's leg. They're quiet. For hours they're just quiet, the steady beeping of the machines drowning out the noise of their thoughts. She's breathing. Steadily. She's breathing. Her heart is beating.

She stirs a little bit, scrunching up her little nose; her forehead furrowing as she shuts her eyelids tighter – the hospital lights blinding. He gets up and shields her eyes with his large hand, and she opens them slowly, looking up at him, confused, panicking.

"Ouch." And he can't help but smile. He wants to touch her, kiss her cheek, scoop her up and never let her out his sight, but he just settles on flattening her hair, running his finger through it – the only part of her body he thinks he can touch without causing any additional pain. "What happened?"

"You were in a car accident." Liv says, slowly, as she walks up to the other side of the bed.

"My… everything hurts." She says in a weak voice, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Shhhh, baby." He whispers softly. "How about I tell you a story?" And she nods her head in response. "So the Chrysler building, can you remember why it's the queen?" And he tells her the story of how it was built, and she drifts off back to sleep. She wakes up again, groggy, and they explain it again. And this time, he tells the story of Grand Central. And again; Radio City, this time. Finally, they up her meds, so she could sleep – she needs to rest.

"You should get some sleep too." Cy says in his usual no-nonsense tone. "You'll need it for tomorrow."

"We're OK here." She says absentmindedly, as she runs small circles on the back of Lynn's hand.

He looks at Fitz, pulling him to the side. "She's ticking. She's been fine the whole day. She's held your hand and her hand, and she's ticking. You need to defuse it. Because if you don't, she'll lose it. Maybe not tomorrow, and maybe not in a week, but she will lose it, and then; well then it will be like watching a train wreck." He just nods his head.

"Liv, we should go get some sleep. They'll call us if anything changes." And he kneels next to her, resting his hand on her knee.

"I want to stay here."

"How about… we go to an on-call room? You have those here, right? We can sleep there, and they'll get us if anything changes?" She just stares at the small body. "Please, for me?" And finally, she looks at him. She stares at him for a moment, as if trying to find an answer on his face, as if hoping that the right thing will be written there. Finally she gets up, and leads him out of the room, pausing at the door, to take one last look.

She's sleeping now. She will wake up.

He closes the door behind her with a shaky hand. He watches her walk away. The slouched shoulders, her head lowered, her steps slow, her feet barely leaving the surface of the floor. She looks as broken as he feels; as exhausted, as guilty.

"Liv." She pauses, but she doesn't turn around. She just lifts her head slowly, staring out the window at the dark sky. She clenches his hand in a fist, then opens it; then repeats. It's absentminded, a way to stay grounded. "Liv." He calls out again. His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. She just bends her head down again, and shakes it, looking at the floor. He takes a step towards her, and it feels like the room is spinning; he misses the comfort of the cool wooden door behind his back. He takes another step, reaching out his arm, slowly, giving her time to pull away. She doesn't. She just stays in place. He brushes his hand against hers, and she looks at him out of a corner of her eye. He walks past her side and turns, so that he's facing her. "Liv." And she looks up, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"This is all my fault."

"No, it isn't."

And with that she's propping herself on her toes, and laying a soft kiss on his lips. She just stays like that for a moment, feeling his creases against hers, feeling every crevice and every curve; feeling the electricity pass along the tips of their touching noses, rush though their cheeks. But then, her tongue is seeking entrance, and he's opening his mouth. And the kiss is no longer slow, and no longer chaste – it's rushed, frantic; giving and taking; getting lost in the moment; getting away from reality. It's tongues dueling, as their hands sneak past the clothes, seeking out burning flesh.

And they're stumbling back.

"Wait." And he's reaching for her hand, the one on his belt, and pushing it away slowly. She looks up, confused, hurt, her eyes questioning, but more than that, pleading. "We can't do this. Not now. It… now's not the right time." And she lets out an exasperated sigh, as she collapses her head on his shoulder, her legs still wrapped around his waist. "This. Us. It, it needs to be right. And right now, is not the right time." And he puts her down, loosening his arms. He kicks off his shoes and lies down on the lower bunk. And she just watches him, observing, her back still firmly against the door. "C'mere." And she just looks at him, as he pats the mattress. "C'mere… Livvy." And her expression changes, a small smile, followed by a flash of pain. She kicks off her shoes, too, and sits down on the bed. He reaches for her hand and she lies down, laying her head on his chest. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her forehead. And suddenly, she's sobbing, her whole body shaking, the tears drenching his sweater. She's uttering, "She's OK," between broken breaths. And he just holds her, running his hands up and down her back, kissing her hair, her forehead, every inch of the skin he can reach.

She's breaking down. She's letting him in. He's holding her up. He's her lifeline.

OK, so that was a lot, huh? He called her Livvy, for the first time… I know that's not the most exciting thing that happened… but, he called her Livvy. Anyway, they're finally ready to move beyond being a couple of three year-olds and to being a couple of teenagers. So, yay for that.

And let me just say – thank you so much for you amazing, amazing support and interest. It's so inspiring and you guys make this story into what it is.

Let me know what you thought, I'm really curious.