FIC: Another Lonely Day
Oct. 14th, 2011 04:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zaubraFandom: UK Politics
Title: Another Lonely Day
Ship(s): Liam Fox/Adam Werritty
Word Count: 729
Rating: G
Summary: Liam doesn't realise how much he still has to lose. Not a sequel to The Foxhunt and More than a Best Man, exactly, but an alternative version of how the scandal might have ended. Can also be found at the meme.
Disclaimer: This is a creative work of fiction, composed of fictional characters inspired by the public personas of living people. No injury or disrespect is intended to the persons named. If you've found this by googling yourself or someone you know, stop playing on the Internet and go run the country.
Another Lonely Day
When David calls him to 10 Downing Street, he knows that it’s over.
David sounds sorry to see him go, but Liam knows that he’s not. The only reason he’s stood behind Liam this long is that he’s been afraid of Liam’s supporters taking revenge. With the gay rumours gaining traction, and Liam’s supporters beginning to fall away, that fear has ended.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” David says, and holds out his hand.
Liam shakes it – cold, clammy, insincere – and signs the resignation letter that’s been written for him. A good soldier, to the end.
They take his Blackberry. It’s official, apparently. Liam bites back the observation that it’s useless at the moment, a dead broken scrap, like the Minister who owned it.
He leaves 10 Downing Street by a back entrance.
~//~
When he gets home, there are reporters waiting. Cameras and flashes and shouting, and all he wants is to sleep.
“No comment,” he says, and pushes past; a flash goes off in his face and he winces. These will be the pictures that haunt him. A white-faced defeated man, amidst the shards and shambles of his perfect life.
He finally manages to get inside. There is a suitcase standing inside the front door, with a note sellotaped to the top.
“I’ve gone to my sister’s,” it reads. “Please find alternative accommodations while I’m gone. Perhaps with your lover. I’ll file the divorce papers when the scandal dies down.”
Liam rests his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes against the cold chill of the empty house, against the death of his six-year marriage. He never should have deceived her, never should have entered into a sham marriage; but even a sham marriage can grow into something more, and he loves her. Not as he loves Adam, perhaps, fierce and constant and ineffable – but warm and fond and affectionate, nonetheless. He’ll miss her in his bed and in his life. He’ll miss her laughter, her smile, her presence and her love. He’ll miss her.
~//~
When he arrives at Adam’s, there are more reporters. Liam shoves his way past, pulling his suitcase with him. The leer of the cameras - the shouts of the reporters - cling to his skin like tar, sticky and putrid.
He lets himself in with his key and slams the door behind him, half collapsing against it, breathing like he’s just run a marathon. He’s safe now, safe from the world outside, as long as he’s here with Adam.
Adam appears from the direction of the kitchen, and Liam looks up, wanting only to bury his face in Adam’s shoulder, to be held, to forget.
“What are you doing here?” Adam says, and his voice is hard.
Liam blinks. “I came to see you,” he says, and hates the way his voice shakes; just a little, but tangible nonetheless.
Adam crosses his arms. “All hell has broken loose. There are fucking hundreds of reporters out there.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Liam says, and is. “They’ll go away once they’ve realised we’re not going to talk to them. They have my resignation now, they’ll move on to the next unfortunate soul.”
“Will they,” Adam says.
Liam rubs his hands together, trying to get warm. “Yes. Oliver’s having a spot of trouble already, in fact. The binning incident.”
“Look,” Adam says, and puts a hand up to rub at his eyes. “Did Jesme throw you out?”
Liam winces. “Yes.”
“You can stay here tonight,” Adam says.
“Thanks,” Liam says, slowly. He looks up, holds Adam’s eyes; watches his last comfort slip away.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now,” Adam says, and he sounds sorry, he does. “I’m seeing someone, and I think he’s the one.”
You’re the one, Liam thinks, You’ve always been the one. But he’s not pathetic, and he’s not going to beg. Not tonight, not tonight of all nights. “Congratulations.”
“I’m sorry,” Adam says, and discomfort makes him belligerent. “But you must have realised that I’m not…this was never going to be a happily ever after for us.”
I didn’t realise, Liam thinks. “Of course. Just, just a place to stay for tonight would be much appreciated.”
Adam comes and takes his suitcase, wheels it off toward the guest room.
Liam stands in the doorway, and watches.
When your world falls apart, sometimes all you feel is numb.
~//~
Title: Another Lonely Day
Ship(s): Liam Fox/Adam Werritty
Word Count: 729
Rating: G
Summary: Liam doesn't realise how much he still has to lose. Not a sequel to The Foxhunt and More than a Best Man, exactly, but an alternative version of how the scandal might have ended. Can also be found at the meme.
Disclaimer: This is a creative work of fiction, composed of fictional characters inspired by the public personas of living people. No injury or disrespect is intended to the persons named. If you've found this by googling yourself or someone you know, stop playing on the Internet and go run the country.
Another Lonely Day
When David calls him to 10 Downing Street, he knows that it’s over.
David sounds sorry to see him go, but Liam knows that he’s not. The only reason he’s stood behind Liam this long is that he’s been afraid of Liam’s supporters taking revenge. With the gay rumours gaining traction, and Liam’s supporters beginning to fall away, that fear has ended.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” David says, and holds out his hand.
Liam shakes it – cold, clammy, insincere – and signs the resignation letter that’s been written for him. A good soldier, to the end.
They take his Blackberry. It’s official, apparently. Liam bites back the observation that it’s useless at the moment, a dead broken scrap, like the Minister who owned it.
He leaves 10 Downing Street by a back entrance.
~//~
When he gets home, there are reporters waiting. Cameras and flashes and shouting, and all he wants is to sleep.
“No comment,” he says, and pushes past; a flash goes off in his face and he winces. These will be the pictures that haunt him. A white-faced defeated man, amidst the shards and shambles of his perfect life.
He finally manages to get inside. There is a suitcase standing inside the front door, with a note sellotaped to the top.
“I’ve gone to my sister’s,” it reads. “Please find alternative accommodations while I’m gone. Perhaps with your lover. I’ll file the divorce papers when the scandal dies down.”
Liam rests his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes against the cold chill of the empty house, against the death of his six-year marriage. He never should have deceived her, never should have entered into a sham marriage; but even a sham marriage can grow into something more, and he loves her. Not as he loves Adam, perhaps, fierce and constant and ineffable – but warm and fond and affectionate, nonetheless. He’ll miss her in his bed and in his life. He’ll miss her laughter, her smile, her presence and her love. He’ll miss her.
~//~
When he arrives at Adam’s, there are more reporters. Liam shoves his way past, pulling his suitcase with him. The leer of the cameras - the shouts of the reporters - cling to his skin like tar, sticky and putrid.
He lets himself in with his key and slams the door behind him, half collapsing against it, breathing like he’s just run a marathon. He’s safe now, safe from the world outside, as long as he’s here with Adam.
Adam appears from the direction of the kitchen, and Liam looks up, wanting only to bury his face in Adam’s shoulder, to be held, to forget.
“What are you doing here?” Adam says, and his voice is hard.
Liam blinks. “I came to see you,” he says, and hates the way his voice shakes; just a little, but tangible nonetheless.
Adam crosses his arms. “All hell has broken loose. There are fucking hundreds of reporters out there.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Liam says, and is. “They’ll go away once they’ve realised we’re not going to talk to them. They have my resignation now, they’ll move on to the next unfortunate soul.”
“Will they,” Adam says.
Liam rubs his hands together, trying to get warm. “Yes. Oliver’s having a spot of trouble already, in fact. The binning incident.”
“Look,” Adam says, and puts a hand up to rub at his eyes. “Did Jesme throw you out?”
Liam winces. “Yes.”
“You can stay here tonight,” Adam says.
“Thanks,” Liam says, slowly. He looks up, holds Adam’s eyes; watches his last comfort slip away.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now,” Adam says, and he sounds sorry, he does. “I’m seeing someone, and I think he’s the one.”
You’re the one, Liam thinks, You’ve always been the one. But he’s not pathetic, and he’s not going to beg. Not tonight, not tonight of all nights. “Congratulations.”
“I’m sorry,” Adam says, and discomfort makes him belligerent. “But you must have realised that I’m not…this was never going to be a happily ever after for us.”
I didn’t realise, Liam thinks. “Of course. Just, just a place to stay for tonight would be much appreciated.”
Adam comes and takes his suitcase, wheels it off toward the guest room.
Liam stands in the doorway, and watches.
When your world falls apart, sometimes all you feel is numb.
~//~
