Chapter Text
Claire sat at the counter in her kitchen, quietly nursing a glass of red wine. It had been hours since the paramedics had come and gone, she had cleaned up the blood from the sidewalk and now all it was for her to have put down the phone and hear from the President Elect himself that he understood for her not to come this night or any night, in fact.
She took a deep swill and placed the glass in the sink before entering the living room, fine furniture and books encased in glass as she pulled the curtains, to where police blue and red sirens no longer flashed to omit her vision.
Claire walked upstairs to her bedroom - no longer theirs - and noticed in the ensuite as she brushed her teeth that his was still in the holder. She tipped it upside down into the receptacle to get rid of his toothbrush.
A chill ran through her at all what that encompassed. Here she was, closing in on fifty and living in this big house all by herself. Only her salary and not Frank’s, though she would receive what was left in his bank account and not spent on the campaign, which was not a large fortune. She strolled into the bedroom and wrapped herself into the sheets willing sleep to come, but all she could do was stare at the illuminated light of the digital alarm clock beside her and count down, for all the opportunities she had missed by being a part of Frank’s life and for him to have died on the apex of the coattails of their success.
Claire woke the next morning to pick something to wear, coming across the dress she had bought to wear to Garret’s inauguration. With a sigh she hung it up once more and chose something neutral for her drive down to her office. After all, life had to go on and she had to earn her keep if she wanted to stay in this fancy house a little while longer, before she could let go of him.
“Oh, Claire,” Evelyn raised her eyebrows, clutching at her hands. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s alright, Evelyn,” Claire tried a smile she didn’t feel. Nothing came to her in the way of emotion. “I need to talk to you in my office.”
“I’ll fetch my things,” Evelyn pasted a huge smile on her face, perhaps to compensate for that which Claire was lacking, joy or any moral fibre in life as Claire nodded to several employees who looked as though they had a downpour upon them while Evelyn hurried behind, closing the door behind her as Claire moved her office chair from behind her desk to face Evelyn one on one, without the symbolic desk between them as distance.
“I have decided not to expand,” Claire said as Evelyn nodded considerably. “The donation will not come from San Corp. We will maintain operations here as is.”
“Oh, Claire, that’s just wonderful!” Evelyn lit up at that, suddenly serious and gripping Claire’s hands once more, paperwork spilling out beneath her arms. “Now tell me, anything you need - “
“I’m fine,” Claire replied distractedly. “Just a little time to adjust.”
“All of us here,” Evelyn noted at the windows where employees craned their necks to glimpse but hid their looks well upon noticing they were spied upon. “We’d understand if you needed to take some time off.”
“I know,” Claire nodded, her smile glazed, touching Evelyn’s hair tenderly. “Thank you, Evelyn.”
Smiling, her cheeks as red as a tomato Evelyn rose to continue her work in her part of the building while Claire readjusted her chair behind the desk and booted up her laptop.
“Claire,” Garrett spoke on the other end of the phone to Claire who sat sipping a coffee with her usual tailored white shirt and black skirt and heels. “Words cannot describe the loss you are feeling. I hope you know that Tricia and I keep you in our prayers.”
“Thank you, Mr President,” Claire watched the TV screen where Michael Kern had been announced as Secretary of State, the position Frank would have otherwise filled. “Can I expect you at the funeral?”
“Of course,” Garrett smiled down the line. “I hope you won’t mind all the extra security.”
“Of course not,” Claire lied. “See you then.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Doug reflexively curled his fists into a ball, glancing up at Claire. “Did he share anything with you?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Claire sipped some tea, watching Doug over her desk at the office. “You’ll make a fine chief of staff for another member of Congress, Doug.”
“I know, I just,” Doug hesitated. “Frank had so many plans. How can I carry any of them out?”
“You have a brother, don’t you, Doug?” Claire asked as Doug nodded, somewhat surprised. “Go visit them. You’re not wanting for money. Spend some time and evaluate your life.”
“And what about you, Mrs. Underwood?” Doug asked, as Claire wondered if she should go back to her maiden name. “What will you do?”
“What I’ve always done,” Claire offered a little smile, never one to be open and honest. “Survive.”
Claire stood among the throngs of well heeled people waiting in line for the symphony, smiling to the few couples she knew and nodding as the noise blared and she took her place, vastly aware of the empty seat beside her which she had chosen not to fill in honor of Frank or to give people the wrong idea. The music began and while it was wonderful an ebb and flow began to unceasingly rock her, of what she would do with her life, if she was not scrambling to find a foothold, if she was trying so hard in vain to fill a hole in her life.
Claire watched as Garrett was sworn in as the President of the United States, Tricia clapping beside him as did all the crowd, bulletproof glass in place and no doubt snipers all over the buildings and rooftops.
She stood with nobody beside her but smiled all the same; the same brittle smile she had been wearing when she was unaccustomed to how other people were feeling. Clapping felt like a charade.
“I promise you, we will have an education bill, within the first one hundred days of this administration!” President Walker declared to a resounding crescendo of applause.
“Claire,” Tricia began in a call to Claire as she sat on the couch massaging her temples. “I would completely understand if you didn’t want to come to the Jefferson Ball.”
“No, it’s important for Garrett,” Claire found herself saying. “I’ll come along. But you’ll have to find someone for Francis’ seat beside me.”
“Of course,” Tricia, too, knew the importance of keeping up appearances. “I’ll sort it out. Don’t you worry.”
Claire fingered the pearls around her neck, thinking these were the sort her mother wore. She snapped back into focus as David Blythe, whose wife was in a facility continued droning about his left wing ideals and wondered how Garrett would get him to the center of ideals to pass the education bill he promised, as Claire took a sip of champagne. All and sundry had offered her condolences of course and now it was polite talk they were engaged in, but little knew how to broach a more real subject such as “how are you feeling?” it seemed moot to a widow whose now sole job was to run the CWI.