Damaged

The Middle

Yawning and rubbing at her eyes, Olivia fumbled for the doorknob, twisting the cold metal and throwing the door open. Stepping into the living room, her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and her ears took in the sound of gunfire. Turning her head, she noted the images of men in suits exchanging gunfire. Shrugging, she walked past the sofa where Eric lounged with a controller in his hands, furiously commanding the men on the television screen. Sabine was out of the country and Eric had asked to crash with Olivia and Fitz. He had been placed on paid administrative leave and he didn't want to be alone in his home.

Entering the kitchen, Olivia headed to the coffeemaker. Popping her flavour of choice into the machine, she placed a mug under it and pressed the brew button. She hummed to the dripping beat of the warm liquid pooling into the mug, tapping her foot as she waited impatiently. Retrieving her mug, she sipped on the bitter, blueberry flavoured liquid and reached absentmindedly for the paper on the island, frowning when her hand collided with the cool tile instead of the crisp front page of the local newspaper. Frowning, she glanced around the kitchen only to come up empty-handed. Then she remembered. They were picking jurors for Eric's trial today. That was sure to have made the front page. Fitz had probably thrown the paper away or taken it to work with him so Eric wouldn't have to see what was written.

Wrapping both hands around the warm mug, Olivia returned to the living room and perched herself on the end of the sofa opposite Eric. He spared a small nod and tight-lipped smile before returning to his video game, leaving Olivia to place her coffee on the table and reach for her laptop. Opening the laptop and signing in, she pulled up the last page she had been working on of her novel. She had promised Fitz the night before that she would keep an eye out for Eric and if he was going to sit on the sofa and play video games, she may as well be productive. Aside from the occasional gunfire from the television and frustrated swearing from Eric, their morning passed relatively quietly. Olivia hit a few snags here and there on her novel: who would have known that writing about something so personal would be so difficult?

Around noon, Olivia closed her laptop. Placing the computer on the coffee table, she stood from her seat and stretched. She shivered a little at the cool air that touched her exposed midriff, lowering her arms so that her sweatshirt met the waistband of her shorts once more. Fitz liked to turn the AC down as low as he could and she had learned long ago to be more selective about picking her battles - so she bundled up more when she needed to. Pulling her hair tie from her wrist, wincing at the deep line it had made in her skin, she flipped her hair over, pulling it up in a loose bun before straightening herself.

"What do you want for lunch?" she asked.

"Hadn't thought about it," Eric mumbled, biting his lip and pressing furiously on the buttons of the controller. Olivia rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"I'll go find something."

"Will you bring me a soda?"

Sighing, she entered the kitchen, pulling a Coke from the refrigerator and taking it back to Eric. At least he thanked her. Collecting the empty bottles on the table, she carried them back to the kitchen and threw them away. She wanted to hope that all of the bottles had been from the night before, but she wasn't naive enough to believe that Eric hadn't been drinking before she had woken up. Even if he had asked her for a soda for appearances' sake.

Opening and closing cabinets, she all but made a complete mess in the small kitchen before finally deciding on loaded nachos. They were easy enough to make and it was one of the few things they had ingredients for. She really needed to go shopping. While the beef was sizzling on the stovetop and the tomatoes, garlic, lettuce, avocado, and jalapeños chopped and ready, she pulled the magnetic grocery list from the stainless steel door and sat the island, pen in hand. She jumped when the phone began ringing - she had almost forgotten that Fitz still had a landline. No one ever called them on it. Standing from the stool, she grabbed the phone from its charging station by the coffee pot.