Author: Regency
Title: The Understanding
Pairing: Implied Bill/Hill, Implied Hill/Evan
Word count: 921
Summary: Bill and Evan come to an understanding about
their relationships with Hillary.
Disclaimer: I do not own them, they own themselves.
~!~
“I love her,” he said, sipping on a snifter of bourbon.
“The same as always,” his companion asked, sipping on water because someone had to keep to a cool head.
“Better than always,” he affirmed, pushing the drink aside when it wasn’t doing as much as it used
to. “I understand that you love her, too.”
“Am I that obvious,” his old friend asked, chuckling, dimples flashing, far too charming to be relegated
to a Senate seat in Indiana.
“Nah,” Bill answered. “I’m just used to watching people fall in love with her. It’s a
pretty sure bet anytime. In most cases, they show the signs before they know
‘em. You loved her before you even liked her. For me, it was the other
way around.”
Evan didn’t chuckle anymore, leaning back in his leather chair, similarly long legs crossed in front of him. He looked like a man in charge. Today,
though, he was a man in charge of something neither of them could control.
This could be a problem.
“What are we gonna do about this, Bill? I mean, we can’t share her if you still love her—if you still
want things to work with her.”
It was Bill’s turn to chuckle. “I think this ‘sharing’
business was a pipe dream to begin with. That isn’t how Hillary works.
She goes where she wants, sees who she wants, and shares herself with whomever she pleases.
The only way we had any hope of sharing her was for each of us to remain happily ignorant of the other.” He tapped
the back end of the unclipped cigar he held between his fingers. “That didn’t happen, couldn’t happen. I’m
her husband. You—well, she’s been half-mooning over you since Pakistan. I was going to find out.” He didn’t sound nearly as hostile as he could have.
Evan thought he was just better at holding his temper than he used to be. “And I suppose I was eventually going
to find out that you two were mending fences.”
“Eh, the whole idea of mending fences is there being fences at the
end. I never said we’d be on the same side.” Bill still didn’t
clip his cigar, savoring the sensation of holding it instead. He had promised he wouldn’t smoke as many anymore; he’d
already had one today. Maybe tomorrow.
“I can’t decide if you’re trying your damndest to give her away or put up your guard in case she
tries to leave.” Evan laid his hands over his knee, preventing himself
from pouring the drink he was beginning to want.
“Given the circumstances, she won’t leave. Doesn’t mean she’ll stay either.” Bill mirrored his stance, all out of excuses to pour another finger of alcohol. “The greatest political marriages in history only remained marriages because there was something
to lose. She’ll lose her standing.” He held up a hand to ward off
Evan’s protests. “I know, I know it isn’t fair. You don’t have to tell me. I’ve known she was
brilliant since we went on our first date. She leaves me—and, frankly, you—in her dust. I know. That does not change the reality of the situation, which you also know. She can’t afford a distraction
of this magnitude right now. There may come a day that no one cares about who she’s married to or with whom she spends
her time. That day isn’t now. So, the question is what do we do until that time?”
“We’re not seeing each other,” Evan supplied, not without irritation. It wasn’t that he hadn’t
tried; it was that in a day with only twenty-four hours and a week with only seven days, her conscious moments were dominated
by the whims of the President and by the availability of her husband. He didn’t see her because she wasn’t there. And when she was there, he couldn’t be.
“But you will be eventually.”
“You’re so sure about that?”
“I am,” he nodded.
“And you’re prepared to step aside, should that day come?”
“Yes,” he nodded again, solemn as the grave.
Evan had the troubling realization that something
was very wrong. For all his shortcomings, there was one thing he knew to be true:
Bill loved Hillary. He would crawl over broken glass to keep her with him—had
crawled over a broken lamp to beg her to stay. He wouldn’t walk away unless
he had a cause or unless what he didn’t have was hope.
“Is it really over with the two of you?”
Bill raised a near-nonexistent eyebrow and didn’t seem particularly moved to answer. Tumbler to lips and a brief, inadequate sip told him something like yes, something like no.
“It’ll never really be over. That’s the rub. She’s
damned hard to live without.” He didn’t let go of the glass even
after it was empty.
“You’ll try.” Evan needed to know, he needed to believe that he really stood a chance, that he wasn’t
being dragged into some elaborate game designed to keep Bill Clinton entertained. They were old, old friends but they were
in love with the same woman. Fairness was not a requisite of love and war.
“I’ll try,” Bill confirmed. He didn’t pour another
drink. Evan didn’t finish his water. They’d run out of things to
say.
A door slammed downstairs and they each started, equally grim looks taking over their faces.
She wasn’t supposed to be home today, Bill thought.
She would not appreciate the irony, Evan believed.
This hopefully happy ending had become unbelievably complex.
