Pairing: Bill Masters/Libby Masters

Summary: A little peek inside Libby's head following the scene where she tries to seduce Bill in 1x02.

Author's Note: Please be advised that I've never written for this pairing or this fandom before… Also, I've only watch two episodes of the show. But, this scene in particular—and this show as a whole, really—just grabbed me. I loved it. Please read, if you have a moment, and if you have some thoughts, please leave them behind! I would love to hear opinions on this.

. . .

Libby squeezed her eyes shut as she lay on her bed, her back to her husband, and wished for the first time in her life that they had separate bedrooms. She didn't know how much longer she could stay in this room with him, the humiliation burning a hole through her being. It moved through her hot and fast, and so sorely reminded her of what it felt like—used to feel like—to be aroused by him that it made things even worse.

It had been so long since she'd felt desire like that coursing through her… Though tonight she'd felt a small spark of it again. An illicit spark, but a spark nonetheless.

"I'm asking if you like to watch. Because if you do…you can watch me."

She had really thought that would work. She had really thought that that's what he wanted. She had really thought… Well, it didn't matter what she had thought, now, did it? She'd been wrong, obviously. She'd been so wrong.

And now there was no way to take it back.

She'd made a fool of herself in front of her husband, and he was not the type of man to easily forget such spectacles. This would be on his mind for a while, and so long as he thought of it, she knew there wouldn't be any successful trying between them—if there ever had been.

He'd said he loved her too much to watch her do that, to watch her touch herself like that, but that wasn't the truth, was it? Oh, she knew he loved her; of course he loved her. But it wasn't love that kept him from wanting to watch her touch herself; it was desire.

He didn't have any of it.

Apart from a desire to work, and a desire to move forward with that study, he didn't seem to have a desire for anything else. Least of all her.

She had tried everything she'd known how to try. She'd made nice dinners, and worn attractive dresses, and let him know when the time was right. Tonight, she'd even gone so far as to do something just for him, when it wasn't even the proper time to conceive—but even that he hadn't wanted. Even that he'd pushed away.

She spent many hours after that, lying in bed, turning those disastrous moments over again and again inside her head. She tried to pinpoint the exact moment when things had gone wrong. Would he have liked it better if she'd been naked? Would he rather watch her touch herself in different ways, or with something besides her own fingers?

It had taken her some time, but eventually she'd figured it out. In fact, she'd known it from the start. It just took her that long to come to terms with it: Her husband not only didn't want to see his wife naked and touching herself; he didn't need to.

He saw enough of it at work. And work had always been enough for him.

He wanted a baby, she knew that, but sometimes she wondered if he only wanted a baby because they couldn't have one. He kept doing the study even though it had been kicked out of the hospital and been forced into that… that brothel. He was always chasing after impossible dreams, and she always supported him because… Well, what else was there to do? But the idea that maybe she was destined to live the rest of her life doing nothing more than standing by and watching, without even a baby of her own to keep her company while her husband worked all those late nights, was almost too terribly lonely for her to bear contemplating.

But it wasn't the future yet, and for now, she supposed she should be grateful that he was here beside her still.

She could explain everything in the morning. She had just been being silly, that's it. He'd understand that. She had been being silly and maybe her temperature was off; nothing more than that. It hadn't been the right night to conceive, anyway. They'd talk in the morning, she decided, and then he'd go on with his work and she'd go on with her day, and maybe with a little luck, and some more hours of him pouring over his study, he'd forget.

She wouldn't, but what did that matter?

. . .

Author's Note: Reviews would be greatly appreciated! This was my first try with this two/this fandom, so I would love to know what you think! Thank you for reading. :)