Fic: Things Said

[stillxmyxheart]

Title: Things Said
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Lindsay (nylana)
Rating: R (language, sex)
Genre: Drama, Angst, Romance
Word Count: 4,718
Characters/Pairings: Nathan, Simon, April, Lily, Whitman (Lily/Whitman, Simon/April)
Summary: Hearts break and mend under the weight of things said.


Nathan tossed an icepack to Simon as he returned from the kitchen, watching as his son pressed it to his sore hand.

"Thanks," Simon muttered as he settled back against the couch cushions.

"Not that I'm against you finally giving that son of a bitch what he deserves, but why did you hit him?" Nathan asked as he moved to stand by the window, sipping his coffee as he looked at Simon.

"He was talking about making a move on April and I just sort of... lost it," Simon replied sourly.

"I know he's got a thing for her-"

"You do?" Simon interrupted, looking up at Nathan.

"I'm fairly certain every person who passes through the building knows about it," Nathan replied dryly. "But Whitman's all talk, I doubt he'd actually try something."

Simon shifted in his seat, his expression dark.

"Ever since you got sober, I've never known you to fly off the handle so easily. That's just not like you."

Simon sighed, moving restlessly in his seat. He slid forward on the couch and tossed the icepack onto the coffee table, clasping his hands in front of him.

"I'm just fucking everything up right now. April's mad at me and I'm too much of a damn coward to explain myself to her. I feel like I haven't been doing my job right lately and I'm starting to think it was a mistake taking the job to protect Dr. McKay." Simon paused, looking down at his hands. "I just... I never wanted you to be disappointed in me again."

Nathan looked at Simon, his eyebrows raised. "Son, I haven't been disappointed in you in twelve years."

Simon looked up, surprised. "Really?"

"You got your act together, you've been in a relatively steady relationship for five years now, you've got a good standing at your job-"

"Yeah, a job Whitman thinks I only got because of you."

"Fuck Whitman," Nathan said irritably. "You are the fastest agent to move through the ranks in God knows how long. It took you less than four years to get into the President's detail and that had nothing to do with me." He sighed. "You're a good man, Simon; you've just made some mistakes. Everybody has. And if you want to know the truth, I'm proud of you."

Simon looked at him and Nathan nodded. "It's true," he said, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Thanks, Dad," Simon murmured, a small smile touching his lips.

"I've got just one question for you, though," Nathan said, frowning thoughtfully as he turned to look at Simon again.

"What's that?" Simon replied, flexing his hand experimentally.

"You're leaving in the morning to go to Boston with Dr. McKay?"

"Yeah."

"So what the hell are you doing here?"

Simon frowned and Nathan shook his head, the corner of his mouth rising.

"Go home, son," he said, exasperated, and raised his eyebrows.

For someone who lives in such a crappy building, he's got a nice view, Lily thought as she stared out the window of Whitman's bedroom. The Washington monument was visible, the scaffolding at the top gleaming dully in the light of the full moon.

She glanced over at the bed as Whitman turned over in his sleep and she watched him a moment. He'd been distant tonight and it'd taken longer than usual to satisfy him. He'd fallen asleep almost immediately after and she'd waited until she was sure he was out before slipping carefully out of bed. She pulled her panties on and retrieved his work shirt from the foot of the bed, buttoning a couple of the buttons as she settled into the chair by the window.

She turned her gaze back to the window and the collar of his shirt brushed against her lips. She inhaled the scent of him, smiling vaguely.

Though she had known him six years, he'd only recently become a regular client of hers, his calls coming weekly now instead of monthly. She liked it, though; she'd grown quite fond of him over the years. He usually treated her well and he never cheated her when his bill came due. Sometimes he was distant, like tonight, or a little rough with her, and she always wondered what had happened to him at work. It was one of those unspoken rules though, he never talked about his job and she never asked, like the way she didn't ask about the cut on his lip or the bruise on his jaw when she'd arrived at his apartment earlier that evening.

She liked to think he'd grown a little fond of her as well. She'd given him her private cell phone number a year or so ago and sometimes he called her over just to watch movies and drink beer. She had no real friends to speak of and though she liked her job immensely, it could get a little tedious sometimes, so she relished the nights when she could watch hundred year old Westerns without having to worry about satisfying anybody else.

She remembered mentioning a few months back that her birthday was coming up and he'd called her the night of and asked her to come over. He ordered pizza and they watched movies and even though he never actually said it, she knew it was for her. It was one of several things that endeared him to her.

She looked over at him again, wondering if he'd wake up soon. In the beginning he'd paid her first thing, as was the rule, but at some point he'd started paying her after the fact and on some nights, like tonight, he didn't do it before he fell asleep. Most of the time she didn't mind; somehow sitting around in his apartment was better than sitting around in her own.

Besides, she may be a lot of things but she wasn't the type of person to go through a client's wallet just to take what he owed her, so she waited.

She stood and stretched, contemplating checking the fridge to see what leftovers he had that were actually still edible, and was moving to the kitchen when he stirred.

She glanced at him, heard him mumble something, and after a second she tip-toed to the bed, her curiosity getting the best of her. He said a couple of unintelligible things and then, clear as a bell, she heard a name: April.

She frowned down at him, wondering who April was. She was positive he didn't have a girlfriend and she'd never seen any indication of a female anywhere in his life. Maybe somebody he worked with.

It wasn't really any of her business; who was she to begrudge him a little dream action with another woman? She was prepared to let it go, her mind drifting back to the contents of his refrigerator, when it dawned on her.

Somebody he worked with. She knew he worked at the White House, knew he was a Secret Service agent and on the nights when she was bored out of her mind, she actually watched the White House press conferences that came on every so often, hoping for a glimpse of him. The woman who always did most of the talking was named April and now that she thought about it, she remembered that she had long blonde hair.

He had never said her name before and except for the first time he'd asked her to wear the wig, they had never discussed the fantasy he liked to indulge in sometimes, but it had to be her. It just made sense.

She chewed her thumbnail pensively as she looked down at him and knew it would do no good to wake him.

She sighed, trying to tamp down the morbid curiosity welling within her, and went to the kitchen like she'd initially planned.

She was sitting at the kitchen table when he emerged from the bedroom some twenty minutes later, her feet tucked under as she ate leftover Chinese.

"Hope you don't mind," she murmured around a mouthful of noodles.

He waved a hand at her. "Just don't blame me if you get sick."

She grinned slightly, watching as he pulled a beer from the refrigerator.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked as he sat down beside her at the table.

"Six hours."

He stared at her. "You've been here for six hours?"

Lily shrugged, swallowing her bite of food. "Got nothing else to do. Nobody called for a job." That wasn't true; she'd gotten a call two hours after he'd fallen asleep but she'd lied and said she was busy.

"How much is that going to cost me?"

"You're off the meter. You know that."

He grunted as he took a swallow of his beer and they lapsed into silence.

She finished her food a few minutes later and sighed. "Guess I should get going."

"Yeah," Whitman said, nodding vaguely.

Lily stood and headed into the bedroom to take Whitman's shirt off and put her dress back on, returning to the living room a moment later to check her bag, making sure she had everything.

Whitman pulled her payment from his wallet and handed it to her. She shoved it into her bag, not bothering to count it.

"Hey, Whit?" she said slowly, standing stork-like as she slipped her shoes on. "Who's April?"

He froze in the act of shoving his wallet back into his pocket and looked at her.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"You said it in your sleep. Who is she?"

"None of your business," Whitman said shortly.

"She's that cute blonde on TV, isn't she? The one who's always talking for the President?" Lily pressed, knowing that she shouldn't and suddenly not caring.

"Leave it alone, Lily," Whitman said, his tone dangerous as he stared down at her.

"You've got a thing for her, don't you?"

"Lily-"

"It explains the wig anyway-"

"Shut up, you fucking whore. Just get the fuck out."

Lily stopped, staring up at Whitman. You fucking whore. There it was, all the cards laid out on the table. What she'd thought could actually be friendship was just his way of keeping her around so he could keep pretending she was somebody else. Hurt and anger welled within her; she'd been so stupid.

"That's why you like taking me from behind so much, isn't it? So you don't have to see my face, so you can pretend that you're really fucking her?"

"I told you to get the fuck out." The truth was plain as day on his face, evident in his voice, and she felt a sudden flash of hatred.

"What's the matter, Whit?" she said softly. "Afraid to admit you have to pay a whore to pretend to be the woman you can't have?"

She didn't see his hand until too late. The slap was like an explosion in the small apartment and she stumbled back, her hand rising to her cheek as she stared at him. She'd had clients hit her before, but never him.

"I said get out." His hands were balled into fists at his sides, his chest heaving slightly as he glared at her.

She stepped forward and slapped him hard, shoving him back a step. The surprise on his face might have been funny if she wasn't so angry.

"I know you don't think of me as anything more than a cheap whore, but you know what? I still deserve your respect." She shook her head as she looked up at him. "I know you won't ever admit how much you need me, but I know you do and if you ever hit me again, I will walk out that door and I won't come back."

She moved back and snatched her bag from the floor, storming away from him. She yanked the door open and just before she stepped from the apartment, she called back, "And no more freebies."

The door slammed, rattling the dishes in the sink, and all was silent. Whitman stared at the space where she'd been a moment before he walked slowly to the couch, sinking down onto it and covering his face with his hands.

He hadn't meant to hit her, just as he hadn't meant to grab April earlier that day, but he'd let his emotions run away with him and had managed to hurt the two people in his life he actually gave a shit about.

He stared at the coffee table without seeing it and allowed the doubt to creep into his mind, allowed himself to think that maybe Lily was right. He'd had a chance with April eight years ago and managed to blow it, let her slip through his fingers, and then Simon came along and just like that any chance he might have had at redeeming himself was gone.

Maybe it was time to accept that April was a lost cause, to realize that she had never wanted him and never would. Maybe it was time to move on.

As he considered the idea of trying to get over her, a heavy feeling began to sink into him, making his arms and legs feel like lead, pressing in his chest and making it hard to breathe. He stood abruptly, shaking his head. Fucked as it was, he wasn't ready to let go of her yet, wasn't ready to stop hoping.

Even if she never loved him, he wasn't ready to stop loving her.

April sat cross-legged on her bed, absently combing her fingers through her damp hair as she stared down at the photo album in front of her. It was open to a picture of her and Simon at the reopening of National Botanical Gardens five years ago, just before they started dating.

She smiled as she remembered that night, remembered dancing with Simon and how he couldn't seem to stop touching her. Remembered kissing him for the first time amid the orchids, remembered how happy they had been to just be near each other.

She sighed as she flipped the album closed, pushing it away. She missed Simon more than she ever had and the idea that their relationship might be over scared her to death.

This was only the second serious relationship she'd ever been in, and the first had ended horribly; it wasn't something she liked to think about. After that, she'd never been able to get serious about the idea of love, thinking it didn't exist for people like her.

Delilah Newcastle had become pregnant with April while she was still in high school and had married April's father the day after she graduated, not long after April turned two. It was never a marriage of love; they'd married because their parents made them. Whether it was for some moral reason or because they thought April should have two parents she never knew, but her home life had never been very pleasant.

Her mother had tried to give her some semblance of normalcy when she was a little girl, enrolling her in dance classes and taking her to the park and making her new clothes when they couldn't afford to buy any. They were never poor, but her father squandered most of the money they earned on booze and cigarettes and, though she was never sure but always suspected the older she got, prostitutes. The older April got, however, the more her mother seemed to withdraw into herself, spending less time with April and more time fighting with her father.

Garrett Newcastle walked out when April was fourteen and she'd never been happier to see the back of him. At the best of times he simply ignored her and at the worst he yelled at her, telling her how worthless she was, that she was stupid, that she was going to follow exactly in her mother's footsteps and end up pregnant at 16.

She never wound up pregnant, but she did lose her virginity when she was 16. It wasn't until years later that she realized that in some twisted way she'd been trying to prove her father wrong, even though he'd been gone two years by then. She wanted to show that she was smarter than her mother, that she could do the same things but not suffer the same consequences.

After her father left, her relationship with her mother deteriorated even more until they seemed like nothing more than roommates and when April graduated high school third in her class, her mother was nowhere to be seen in the auditorium.

That night, while April's classmates were out celebrating the end of high school, April was packing her life into two suitcases. She headed east on the first Greyhound out of Indiana the following morning, all the money she'd saved from six years of babysitting and waitressing shoved into the bottom of her bag.

Two days later she was in Virginia. She found an apartment first, a job second, and in July of that year she walked nervously onto the campus of the University of Richmond for her first day of college.

She soon traded her waitressing job for one at the local newspaper and within a year was a reporter, hard at work on the articles that would catch the eye of the President a few short years later.

Four years after that first day, she graduated in the top five percent of her class with a double major in journalism and political science. She spent the next two years working for the newspaper, earning the chance to interview Harrison St. James just after he'd been elected president. Not long after that interview, she received the call from Nathan Gates, telling her that the President would very much like to have her on as his Press Secretary. Two weeks after that she was in Washington.

When she met Simon she could tell almost immediately that he was head over heels for her, which wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but the odd thing was that she felt the same way about him. They flirted for a year and a half before progressing to casual dating, but it wasn't until the night he came to her apartment and told her he loved her, the night when she realized she mirrored his feelings exactly, that they became serious.

Five years later and here they were, Simon moved out and April alone in her bedroom, staring at old pictures and wondering if she had followed in her mother's footsteps after all, destined to spend her life alone and unloved.

A knock at her door brought her out of her thoughts and she frowned as she looked up, wondering who it could be at such a late hour.

She slid off the bed, putting the photo album away and pulling on her bathrobe as she walked to the door. Her frown deepened when she looked through the peephole and she unlocked the door, pulling it open.

"Simon?"

Before she had a chance to say anything else he stepped forward and took her face in his hands, kissing her with such intensity that they stumbled back against the wall.

She stared at him when he pulled away and the only thing she could think of to say was, "Why didn't you use your key?"

A small smile flashed across his face. "This was sort of a... last minute decision. But I had to talk to you before I left."

"All right," April said quietly.

"I've been so stupid and the reasoning behind everything would probably make you laugh, but you have to know."

April stared at him, waiting, her arms crossed over her chest. Simon took a breath.

"I was scared. When you told me you thought you might be pregnant... it scared the hell out of me, April. And not because of something petty like me not being ready to be a father yet, but because it was practically a death sentence for you, and the thought of me being somehow responsible for anything happening to you, for you dying... I was terrified. And even after you told me you weren't, that you were fine, the fear was still there. It wouldn't go away and I was afraid to be with you, I was afraid that we might not be that lucky next time, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you that way."

April was silent a moment, her arms at her sides. "Why didn't you just tell me all of this?" she finally said.

"I don't know. I guess I thought that you'd think I was being stupid or irrational or something-"

"So lying to me was the better option?"

Simon stared at her, stung. "You know I'm shit with my emotions, April."

"This wasn't something small like you not wanting to tell me that something pissed you off at work or hiding the fact that a movie made you sad. This wasn't like how you shut down around the anniversary of your mom's death, because I understand that. This wasn't just about you this time, Simon, it was about us. I was scared too, and instead of us maybe attempting to talk about it, you shut me out. You pushed me away and I had no idea why."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I will say it from now until the end of time if that's what it takes. I'm sorry for everything, I'm sorry for not talking to you and for lying, I'm sorry for not trusting you, for accusing you of cheating. I'm sorry for anything I've ever done to hurt you, not just recently but for the past five years." He paused abruptly, taking a sharp breath, and April noticed his eyes shining. "I love you so much, April. I just want us to be okay again."

April looked at him, feeling the familiar ache in her chest rising to her throat, but the tears were different this time.

"Say I do forgive you," she finally murmured. "Will you promise me that you'll open up to me more? That we can talk about things like normal couples do, without one or both of us shutting down or walking away? Because I know I haven't been doing the best job of it either but I'm willing to work on it if you are."

Simon nodded. "Yes."

"Say it."

He gave a short laugh and shook his head slightly as he walked towards her. "I promise."

"Because if you want to know the truth," April said as Simon once again took her face in his hands, "I think I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you."

"Yeah?" Simon murmured, following the lines of her face with his fingers.

April nodded, closing her eyes as he gently kissed her cheeks.

"Truth?" he whispered, his lips brushing against hers. "So can I."

She smiled as he kissed her, his fingers combing through her still damp hair.

She hooked her fingers through his belt loops, pulling him in the direction of the bedroom. He grinned when she tugged his shirt off over his head and tossed it across the room, but his smile faded as he looked at the bed. He backed away from her.

"I can't, April, what if-"

"Wait a minute," she said and hurried into the bathroom, emerging a moment later with a small circular package between her fingers. "Birth control. I've been taking them since... since the last time." A smile flickered on her face as she added, "No more worrying about broken condoms."

The smile slowly returned to Simon's face and April grinned as he kissed her again, placing the pills on the dresser. He pushed her robe from her shoulders and tugged her tank top off, his arms around her waist as he bent to kiss her breasts, sending a shiver down her spine as his lips brushed her nipples.

She pulled him towards the bed and sat down, scooting back against the pillows and watching as he removed his pants before crawling towards her.

He grabbed the waist of her shorts and she shifted as he slid them down, tossing them to the floor along with her panties. He kissed his way slowly up her legs, his lips feather light on her skin. He tasted her with his tongue, lingering just long enough to make her shiver and moan and make her fingers tighten on the sheets before continuing his slow path up her body.

He positioned himself between her legs, one hand drifting down her thigh to raise it against his side as he slid inside of her. She gripped his arms as she kissed him hungrily, her other leg rising, her knees brushing against his ribs.

She held him tightly as he moved within her, watching his face, not wanting to close her eyes for even a moment. He would be gone in the morning and she didn't want to miss any of him tonight.

He kissed her neck as he pushed deeper into her and she arched against him, a familiar heat beginning to spread inside of her, a sensation she hadn't felt in what seemed like months.

His movements slowed as they always did when he knew she was close and he kissed her gently before jerking his hips upward and sending her crashing over the edge. She cried out, her head falling back and her legs tightly squeezing his sides, one hand rising to grip the pillow behind her head while the other held tight to his arm, her fingers pressing almost painfully into his flesh.

His own release came a moment later and he carefully lowered himself down, his lips brushing the hollow of her throat as he waited for his pulse to slow.

She held him inside of her a few minutes more, not wanting to give up this closeness, afraid as she always was of losing him.

He raised himself to look at her and she placed her hand on his cheek, lightly stroking his skin with her thumb. He turned his head slightly to kiss her palm and she smiled, pulling him down to kiss her lips.

"Tell me again," she murmured against his mouth.

"What?"

"You know what."

"I'm sorry?"

She giggled, her nose wrinkling as she poked his shoulder. "No, come on."

Simon grinned, smoothing her hair back with his hands as he kissed the end of her nose. "I love you."

She sighed softly and closed her eyes for just a moment. They were just three little words but the way they made her feel was beyond description.

She opened her eyes and ran her fingers through his hair as she whispered, "I love you too."

The room was suffused in predawn light when Simon awoke the next morning. He slid out of bed, careful not to wake April, and dressed in his clothes from the day before.

He pulled his suitcase from the top shelf in the closet and began to pack. He still had some things at his dad's house, but he didn't know how long he'd be in Boston and knew he'd need more clothes than what he had at hand.

The first rays of sunlight had appeared in the room by the time he finished and he looked around, trying to think if he'd forgotten anything.

Positive that he hadn't, he turned his attention to April. He moved her birth control back into the bathroom, not wanting her to forget to take it, and wrote her a note, placing it on her bedside table.

He sat down beside her on the bed and watched her sleep a moment, brushing her hair from her face. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, his hand on her arm, and she stirred, her brow creasing slightly as she shifted from under his hand.

He frowned and reached for the edge of the sheets, pulling them down. His mouth fell open as he stared at the dark fingerprint shaped bruises that dotted her upper arm, wondering how he hadn't noticed them the night before.

He gently placed his hand on her arm, lining his own fingers up with the marks, wanting to confirm his suspicions. Somebody had grabbed her, somebody strong enough to bruise the hell out of her arm, and he had a good idea as to who it was.