3:57 AM

The bright red led numbers were glaring at her it left like. Or was it just her tired eyes reaction to the semi darkness in their room. She can feel him tossing and turning next to her. That's what woke her from her sleep. Well that and the thunderstorm actively brewing outside. Darkness filled their bedroom except for the occasional thunder here and there and the sound of heavy rain pounding against the windows.

She reaches out her hand, gently stroking his arm, reassuring him she was there for him. That he wasn't alone. She learned as time went by that small gestures went the extra mile. She could feel him exhaling profoundly, she can almost see his nostrils expanding, his breath shaking, the vein in his forehead pulsating, she doesn't need to turn around to see his teary eyes. Nights like this were among the toughest. What she doesn't expect is the choked-out breath that follows. That alone is enough to wire her up. To hell with sleep.

"Baby?" she asks, "baby what's wrong?"

No response. It's only when she reaches out to her bedside table to bring in some light, that his strong arm stops her.

"Liv, please, don't."

The pleading tone does it.

In the darkness, it breaks her to pieces.

She turns around in their bed, surprised to see that he's turned his back to her in the meantime. She knows he's avoiding her. He had barely spoken to her since he came back from therapy. She knows he needs his space, she knows the effect the dark has on him. She knows the effect nights have on him. The heavy toll. Long gone was the man who would open to her easily, who understood the partnership they had established, who understood she was strong enough to carry both their burdens when he was down just like he supported her in the darkest periods of her life, who understood the importance of communicating with her, who understood nothing, no subject was off the table, who knew she could handle it. Part of her understood his situation but the other was truly struggling. She missed her husband yet he was there in her bed. She had read the multiple doctors reports, the psych evaluations, she even had a follow up with Ryan and a therapist. She truly did understand- her father and father in law had both served in the army but right this very moment she fucking hated it. She just wanted her husband back.

And she did just that.

If he wasn't going to take a step towards her, she would.

She crawled her way in the empty space between them, hating the feeling of cold sheets on her warm skin in between, and carefully threaded her arms around his torso, silently thankful he didn't reject her right then and there. Thankful he rarely rejected her touch. The first thing she noted was his racing heart. It was beating so fast she was surprised it didn't just escape from his chest. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, inhaling his masculine smell before she planted a kiss on his skin, she treaded her fingers through his, softly stroking his fingers, while her other hand kept him firmly against her. She laughed internally knowing he could easily break her embrace but instead he just sunk further into her arms.

It's all going to be okay.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, giving him time to regulate his breathing and for his heartbeat to calm down, synching with hers as it usually did, when she felt him slowly turning towards her, a soft kiss to her temple. I love you. She almost missed it, whispered like a silent prayer, moving in sync again until she claimed back her favorite spot tucked against his heart, his strong arms holding her close. Like a deadlock. And she willingly went in. It's another kiss to the crown of her head, his lips lingering, it's him inhaling her sweet scent, one hand creeping up to caress her locks, it's her leaning in for a kiss, it's their eyes meeting, brown meeting blue, and the love she sees amidst the sadness is enough to make her gasp for air. Brown orbs are watering, never letting go of his blue ones. She gets it. His fingers are toying with her tank top's strap until it fell off, revealing her naked shoulder, it's his lips tracing a path from her lips, jawline, neck until they meet her shoulder, taking their sweet time, making her whimper beneath his touch. It's her fingers creeping beneath his shirt, making contact with the burning up skin, making contact with his abs, discovering all of him for the billionth time.

Shortly after, the t-shirt and the tank top find themselves on the floor.

It's a burning up passion.

It's moans erupting, filling up the walls.

It's just them.

Maybe tonight, love can eclipse anything. Even the deepest of scars.

The next morning, she's happily busying herself in the kitchen, having left him to deal with the soon to be birthday boy. On the days he didn't have therapy it was their father-son time. Her eyes land on the blue and green balloons resting on the counter and she sighs. She takes a kitchen towel and places it on top to hide from their son; he's old enough to know his birthday is coming up but neither had peeped word about it.

She knows they still need to have the same conversation she's been trying to have with him. A conversation she knows they need to have that he's avoiding like the plague. Given the past few days, she wanted to split the birthday party into two very short half days between both their families and Ryan's godparents. She's convinced he can't yet take have that many people surrounding him. Even if for a short period.

It's not that she doesn't trust him, rather she knows if he has an episode he'll blame himself even more than he already does. If you ask anyone not just her, he's his worse critic.

He knows her well enough to guess what's she going to say- she knows him well enough to know he's not going to have it.

"Mommy," the high-pitched shriek coming from the top of the stairs makes her turn around just in time. Before she sees them, she hears the laughter, warming her heart. Reminding her why they're worth it. Reminding her, this year, they both will be blowing candles with their son. A sight she had longed for.

"Careful bud," the rich baritone still has the same effect on her, even years later, even after their night. The goosebumps traveling from the nape of her neck to her toes, bright red claiming her pointy cheeks.

When they finally come within her eye sight, she shakes her head, an amused smile on her face. Of course, they'd match with no occasion in sight. Just because. Both wearing green shirts and jeans. As they're coming towards the last step, Fitz picks up the little boy effortlessly, striding to her, placing the little boy in her arms. She doesn't waste time attacking the little face with kisses. Small hands reaching around her neck. Squeezing as tight they can, as she wishes he stops growing up so fast. These slow mornings are the kind she gladly takes in. As if in a constant effort to make up for lost time.

Time she won't ever get back; she shakes her head, willing herself to only think about the positive in her life.

When she looks back at Fitz, she can see the sudden change in his demeanor, his eyes fixated on the kitchen counter, where the balloons are poorly hidden from his trained eye. It was now or never.

"Ryan, why don't you go eat at your table? Like the big adults," she suggests, knowing full well their son is at the age where he wants to play alike with them. Act all grown.

While the little feet scurry away to the small table and chair set they got him a few weeks back, she can feel her husband straightening up. Clearly there was no avoiding the conversation now.

"Fitz," she starts carefully

"So, it's Fitz now," he retorts, an eyebrow raised. Amused, "am I in trouble?"

She bites her lip, she wants to laugh at his antics but she has to be the adult when he wants to act like a small child.

"Fitz, please"

"That's what you were saying a few hours ago. Want to go for another round?"

She let out a deep sigh, "I'm not hosting twenty people, that's not happening."

"Liv," he exhales, "why make a big deal out of it?"

"I'm not putting you through that, it's too soon"

"It's not," he snaps.

"Fitz,"

"I'm going out."

"Fitz," but he's already gone.

She knew to give him space, she knew to let him brew at his own pace, wherever he decided to go hide. Usually he wouldn't venture too far from home. His own inner senses beeped more than a car in park mode. There was a bench barely a mile away where he liked to sit and process. It was where she found him the first time he decided to venture out, the first time they had a fight and she had to remind him their child was sleeping. He had stormed out that day, having left the door slightly open when she knew he'd have slammed it for she would have done the same. She was so scared something could happen to him it didn't take her long to chase after him. Once she figured out where he was- out of harm's way- and understood he needed space, she respected that. From that day, they avoided raising voices, not that they even fought that much to begin with.

He just needed to get out. He had to get out. He was still in deep thought when his usual bench came into sight. He wasn't sure how he liked always coming here to clear his head. He didn't even know why he needed to be outside his home. It wasn't like she was undermining him. He knew it was coming, he just hoped she would drop the issue. He could deal with a crowded house for a few hours. Well, could he really?

On one hand, he wanted to pretend everything could work out like it did before, but on the other it also perfectly made sense why it would be way smarter to split the party in two. All that mattered in the end was that his little boy was happy, undoubtedly spoiled, and that he was there to celebrate with them. That, in some way, he could slowly make up for everything he missed throughout the years.

He was angry, rightly so in many ways, but he knew snapping at her was so wrong of him. He used to control himself a little better, he used to keep it in check, his reflexes used to be sharper, he used to charm his way in but seemed to have lost some abilities. It felt like failing.

You're not failing, you're healing. He snorted, he could almost hear Henry admonishing him in his head. But he had to give it to him, he was going in circle, and if he wanted to get back some of his past life, he had to let go. He had to get over his situation, their past situation. He had to get a grip, find a way to stop being so angry and resentful. Past Fitz could do just that. Was being jealous of your past self even a thing or was he going crazy?

His head suddenly started to hurt, that's what he'd get for acting like an idiot.

When he's back home, it just hits him that she's not here. It was Friday, she was due in court. That, too, he had forgotten. Quinn had to come in last second to stay with Ryan until he made his way back and he just couldn't figure out whether Liv was mad at him or not.

Making his way to the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast, that's when he sees the green sticky note on the microwave.

I called your mom, your parents will be here tomorrow at 3pm for the party. Sunday, we'll have brunch with my folks. Food is in the microwave, the coffee in the mug is decaf. I'll be late tonight. Liv.

Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't that mad at him. Ironically, now she was avoiding him. He knows her court day wouldn't take that long. He knows she needs the space, he knows it's a lot to take in every day. He knows he's a lot to take in since the incident at the mall. Only, he didn't realize she had gotten to the point where she needed to numb her mind with something else that wasn't them.

Now, he gets it.

It's not just about him.

This time it should also be about her.

It's about them. For better, for worse, in sickness and in health.

He warms up his food as she left it, settling to eat it on the floor. Well, he put the mug and plate on his son's small wooden table, downing his breakfast before joining the young boy who was busying himself with a coloring book. It still baffled him his son was at the age where he could play and occupy himself so independently. The last memories of him, he had to hold him to keep him in one place.

He shakes his head, willing himself to think about something else.

Ryan looks up at him, innocence radiating from him. Where all she could only see parts of him, he only saw her through the little boy who had her full lips, her nose and although he has his eye color, the way they sparkled was all hers. "Daddy, color with me?" he asks hopeful.

"Sure bud, come on let's give the Batmobile all her glory."

They spent nearly thirty minutes coloring and drawing before Ryan got bored and moved to the backyard instead where they started playing ball but that was also quickly getting old for the nearly four year-old and if he's honest his mind was really on Olivia. If there was one habit he's sure she didn't break was that on long days, she didn't give herself any grace. He was willing to bet she was going to forget to eat- as she usually did.

"Hey buddy, what do you say we go bring your mommy lunch?"

"Eat with mommy?"

"Yea, want to help me?"

"Yaay!"

He didn't know exactly what to get her but he knew Chinese was the easiest and safest option he could go for. He called the takeout place she used to go to every time she pulled a late-night session, when cases became complex and she knew getting to their home would be too much of a distraction and ordered a variety of what she liked. He took the car keys, hesitantly at first, then headed to pick up his order, making a quick pit stop to a small florist down the road.

He never drove so slow or paid as much attention as he did this time. He wasn't the most comfortable driving around for the time being especially with a little one but he wanted to do something for her. Something that wouldn't involve waiting until she finally decided to come home and rushing her day was out of the question.

He knew chances she would be in office were slim to none and he made it clear to Abby, who was truly surprised to see him come in, when he rang for her to let him in that he was just passing by.

Her office was as he remembered it globally. Only difference aside from the upgraded pictures on the desk was the drastically smaller pile of cases on her desk. When she told him she was delegating, she wasn't kidding. He placed the food in the mini fridge that once upon a time was used to store breastmilk and left one of the roses on her desk. He hesitated for a second before scribbling a note and leaving it on her desk.

She was drained. Utterly, impossibly physically and mentally exhausted.

The day had taken such a toll she didn't think she could take a minute more of it. Court had taken significantly more time than she thought, and if she followed her new rule, she would have headed straight home. Except she didn't think she could take it right now. She didn't hear from Fitz aside from a few spread-out texts to inform her their son had eaten lunch and was napping, then that they were watching a movie and had gone to the park in their neighborhood. He was clearly preparing him for an early bed time. He'd usually text her, so she didn't think much of it.

She headed to her office, hoping that she could recharge a little more, distract her mind a little before heading to finish up the discussion that gave her morning such a sour taste. She didn't want to fight, but she didn't want him to break more than he already did. The thought itself brought tears to her eyes. Yes, she couldn't handle the discussion for now.

She went in heading straight to her office, barely paying attention to what her redhead best friend was saying, when the red petals come into sight. She carefully makes her way to her desk, dropping her briefcase absentmindedly on the extra chair she kept, picking up the stem when the loose small yellow post-it note starts its descent on her desk.

She picks it up before it lands on the paperwork, a tired smile forming on her lips. A single tear falling on the crisp paper.

I'm sorry. You were right. Please don't be late tonight, we miss you. Love, Fitz