[Private] -- Post fic AU

[freshoffthefarm]

A month had passed since Annie and Clay had buried Dani in her favorite dress on a gray morning. Since then, Clay had barely spoken, spending his days shut in his study with a bottle of scotch. He’d tried to sleep the first week, but after laying in bed staring at the ceiling, or getting up to stare at Dani’s empty bed, he gave up on that too. Annie did her best to make sure he ate, but more often than not, ended up collecting the mostly uneaten food from his desk at the end of the day.

Every day, Arthur called to check in on him, and every day, Annie had told him the same thing.

“Not yet.”

Finally, Arthur had come to the house in person. Annie had let him in, relieved to see a familiar face.

“He’s really giving it up,” Arthur said softly. “I always thought they’d have to pry that desk from his cold, dead hands.” She’d led him down the hallway to the study, knocking gently as she opened the door.

“Clay,” she said softly, poking her head. “Honey, Arthur’s here. He needs to talk to you.”

Sitting with his back to the door, balancing a glass of scotch on the armrest of his chair as he stared out the window, Clay just waved for Arthur to come in.

“You probably know why I’m here,” Arthur said, standing just inside the door. “It’s been a month. The President needs to know if you’re coming back, or -”

“The job’s yours, Arthur,” Clay said shortly, still staring out the window. “Close the door on your way out.”

Without another word, Arthur left the room, closing the door behind him. He took a moment to look at Annie, both of them shocked but not surprised at Clay’s choice.

“I know,” Annie said, looking sadly at the door before returning her gaze to Arthur. “But could you really back, if it’d been you?”

Once he’d heard Annie and Arthur’s voices retreat back down the hallway, Clay turned his chair away from the window. He finished the scotch that was in his glass before filling it again, standing from the chair to walk across the room. There in the corner was a small, low wooden table, painted a light lavender with child-sized chairs to match, and set for afternoon tea. There was a stuffed animal in three of the chairs, but the fourth was empty.

The fourth was where Dani had sat.

His face grim, Clay sat on the floor next to the empty chair, just as he had countless times before, sipping imaginary tea with his daughter on sunny afternoons. He hadn’t cared about his suits being wrinkled, or if the Secretary of State was waiting downstairs. Tea parties with his daughter were sacred moments, the ones he had treasured most.

Now he simply stared in silence at where she should have been sitting, remembering her laugh, as he finished off another bottle of scotch.

Downstairs, Annie said a quiet goodbye to Arthur and stood by the front window as she watched him get into the back of the car he'd arrived in. As it drove away, she caught sight of the guards still sitting at the end of the driveway. Another reminder, something she didn't need, so she let the curtain fall into place before she sat down on the couch, putting her face in her hands.

There was no sound from upstairs, there never was. Every morning, she'd make coffee and toast and the toast would come back with a bite out of it to appease her, the coffee cup smelled like scotch, but it would be empty. Lunch was never eaten, but she made it every day anyway. Dinner was a lot of the same and every night, she knocked before telling him she was going to bed.

Sometimes, he would join her, but more often than not, she'd lay there for an hour or more, tossing and turning before she'd go and knock again. When there was no answer, she'd slide to the floor and rest her head against the wall. Once or twice, she'd actually woken up there. After the second time, he'd begun to walk her back to bed before disappearing again. On the nights he did join her, she wrapped her arm around his waist, her face pressed into his back.

She didn't even think he noticed when the back of his t-shirt would get damp from her tears.

This afternoon, she sighed and walked upstairs, knocking again. "Clay?"

Comments

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

Clay just couldn't do it anymore. He thought when his mother died that it would be the worst grief he'd ever felt. Boy, was he wrong. At least after Porter's funeral he didn't feel like it took every ounce of strength he had just to keep breathing.

Like usual, he didn't acknowledge Annie's knock. he just sat on the floor, his glass next to him looking at that little empty chair.

He couldn't get rid of that nagging thought that it should have been him.

[freshoffthefarm]

Without his answer, she paused before opening the door. As soon as she did, she wished she hadn't. It was a horrible thought, but the last month had taught her that sometimes, he just needed to be left alone. It was an even more horrible thought that 'sometimes' was becoming more often than not.

"Please get off the floor," she said quietly, taking a step into his study. The room was still dark, but she didn't dare reach for the light. It would have put his grief, their grief, into way too much brightness, and even she couldn't handle that. "It's not good for your back."

As soon as she said it, she felt sick to her stomach. His back was the last thing he was thinking about, that much she knew.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"Is there really a point?"

He didn't care about his back, he didn't care he was on the floor and he most certainly didn't care that he'd lost count of how many days he spent in an alcohol induced haze.

[freshoffthefarm]

Annie's face fell even further if it was possible and she tried to stop her lip from wibbling as she stepped even closer.

"Please, don't say that." Crossing her arms over her chest, she felt the tell-tale signs of tears start and she sniffled once. "Come downstairs with me, have lunch."

It was a new offer. Usually, she just brought it upstairs to him without question.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

Clay wasn't hungry, but she asked so he, with some effort, got up off the floor. He figured she knew he wasn't eating lunch by now, so at least he'd be able to tell her not to bother making him anything

He did take his half empty scotch glass with him.

[freshoffthefarm]

The next morning, Annie woke up still tired. The other side of the bed was empty and she sighed, figuring he had retreated back into the sanctuary of his study.

Not bothering with getting dressed, she pulled a pair of sweatpants on and redid her hair in a bun before heading downstairs to the kitchen. To say she was surprised to find him next to the coffeepot was a bit of an understatement and she paused in the doorway.

"Morning." Her throat was raw from all of the crying the night before.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"Hi." Clay just finished pouring the second mug of coffee and put them both on the kitchen table, "Thought you'd like some."

He smiled slightly.

[freshoffthefarm]

"I would, yeah." She nodded and stepped forward, sliding onto a stool at the breakfast nook. Giving him her own tentative smile, she lifted the cup to her lips and said, "Did you sleep?"

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"Not nearly as much as you did," which implied that he'd stayed in their room the entire night.

His goal today, not that Annie would know, was to make it at least six hours without running to hide in his study. Half a day at a time. He could do this.

[freshoffthefarm]

"I've always slept better with you near."

Knowing he was laying in bed with her had been a comfort all on its own. Not to mention the ability to finally cry had exhausted her.

His goal might be a little thwarted by the fact that, while he was usually gone during the day, Annie read a lot or planned for society. Lately, she spent a lot of time pacing outside his study or staring off into space.

She truly wouldn't know what to do with him there next to her.

[freshoffthefarm]

Later that night, as they were getting ready for bed, Annie pulled back the covers and then looked at Clay from across the bed.

"Are you going to call Arthur in the morning?"

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I plan to."

[freshoffthefarm]

"Are you going to go back?"

She still hadn't gotten into bed. Making sure to keep her expression neutral, she watched his face to make sure she hadn't offended him or pressured him. She did, however, want to know.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"I think I would like to." It was a simple statement and he did largely identify who he was with his job. With everything else that's happened, he wasn't ready to give that up yet.

[freshoffthefarm]

"I think that would probably be best." Only then did she get into bed and arrange the sheets and blankets over her lap before she looked up at him again.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

On Wednesday, Webb met with Arthur to discuss his possible return and after two hours, one spent mostly on personal matters and the other spent on professional ones, Webb felt confidant that he could return. A few of the ops he oversaw directly had closed under Arthur's supervision and everything seemed to be going well. Clay couldn't wait to tell Annie.

He also received the package of paperwork he needed to fill out for his return, including three consent forms for psych evals. Clay knew it was Standard Operating Procedure, but it didn't make it that much easier to handle.

[freshoffthefarm]

Annie had arrived home almost a half-hour before Webb and she'd started on making a light dinner for them both. When she heard the front door open, she wiped her hands on a towel and went to go find him.

"Hi, honey." She smiled, then saw the paperwork. It could only mean one thing, but she had to ask anyway. "How did it go?"

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"I think it's safe for me to go back. A few of the ops under my purview closed while Arthur was running things. The situation that could have developed with the rest of the Marcello family is taken care of and it seems like everything is going very well."

He sounded happy about all of those things, glad to be getting his life back.

"How was your lunch?"

[freshoffthefarm]

"It was nice," she said, nodding as she watched his reaction. "They were happy to see me out and about. Auggie noticed I'd lost some weight just by the way my shoes sounded."

She smiled at the memory of her afternoon. "What do you need to do before they'll let you go back?"

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"I'm glad it went well and I think we've both lost some weight over the past few weeks. My suits fit better than they have in a long time." he smiled slightly.

"Three psych evals in the next two months, the President needs to re-approve the appointment but that's just a formality, then probably about two weeks worth of briefings from Arthur."

He didn't sound worried about any of it.

[freshoffthefarm]

The following morning, still feeling a little off due to Webb's rejections the previous night, Annie was the first one out of bed.

She was the first into the kitchen to make the requisite coffee and was the first with a cup, though she brought a second one upstairs for him. Setting it on the nighstand next to his glasses, she leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead and said, "Morning. Up, time to pack."

Then she set her cup on the dresser before going into the bathroom to get started for the day.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

Clay woke up when he smelled coffee coming from the kitchen and sat up in bed. When Annie returned with a cup for him he smiled lazily and reached over to take a sip. He nodded at her order to get up and pack.

But, instead of packing, he decided to be a little disobedient. He got up and knocked on the bathroom door when he heard the shower water running. Clay's own self consciousness replaced by wondering just how long it'd been since they had the time to shower together.

"Want some company?"

[freshoffthefarm]

Annie's thoughts were interrupted by the knock and she opened the shower door just in time to hear his question.

"That's not a question you ever have to ask," she reminded him with a saucy wink and then stepped back under the water, the frosted glass door still open just an inch or two.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

Webb joined her about five minutes later closing the shower door behind him, "How long has it been since we've done this?"

[freshoffthefarm]

Immediately, she pulled him close and used bath wash on her hands to soap his front. Between that and the water pouring down on them, he was wet in seconds.

"Way too long," she said quietly. It seemed to her that it had been way too long since they had done a lot of things. Her kiss was short because of the water coming down, but she kept of the soaping, even turning him around so she could do his back, too.