He drummed his fingers on his desk as he held the phone to his ear. He listened to it ring twice, three times, then her voicemail. He didn't leave a message this time, just simply pressed End and tucked the phone back into his pocket. His thumb and forefinger squeezed the bridge of his nose, a migraine looming.
"Sir?" he heard Lauren's voice call from the doorway, "The First Lady is here to see you."
"Send her in" he lamented, forcing himself to sit upright. Then his wife breezed through the door, wearing her usual scowl.
"Fitzgerald, when are you leaving for New Hampshire?" he turned his eyes to the report sitting in front of him on the desk.
"Tomorrow morning" his response was flat, devoid of any feeling, "Why?"
"We're down in the polls and a good turnout in New Hampshire could mean a lot for the election" she looked down at the top of her shoes. It hurt to look at him, the very real evidence of her failings and shortcomings. He was her lot in life, she thought, what she settled for, when she deserved so much more. She deserved to be treasured and loved, she deserved Andrew.
"Oh" he stood and forced himself to look into her face, "I thought perhaps you had plans with Andrew."
The words were like a knife straight through her heart and she visibly winced, "Fitz, I don't…"
"Just stop Mellie, stop pretending" he ran his hand through his head full of curls as he turned to face the window, "We both know this is nothing more than an arrangement. Why pretend?"
She let out an exaggerated sigh and spun on her heel to leave, "You're not going to make me feel guilty" she spat over her shoulder, slamming the door on her way out.
Fitz massaged his temples, looking out the window of the Oval Office. Some days the Presidency felt like a prison sentence. If he wasn't President he would divorce Mellie, if he wasn't President he would be free to love Olivia, if he wasn't President Olivia wouldn't have run away. He pulled the phone from his pocket and dialed her number again and again it went to voicemail. Fitz stood, pacing to the other side of the desk then, abruptly turning; he knocked the entire contents of his desktop to the floor.
"Damn it" he yelled, his baritone echoing off the walls of the large room.
The commotion brought two secret service agents rushing through the door.
"Sir? Is everything okay?" Tom was the first to enter the Oval Office. He surveyed the room and, interpreting no danger, motioned for his partner to follow him back into the hallway.
"Tom?" Fitz faced the door, "How soon can Marine One be ready?"
Tom turned, "Fifteen minutes, Sir"
"Take care of it" he picked up his coat from the back of the adjacent chair and slid it over his muscular arms and shoulders, buttoning it before taking a deep breath to compose himself. He purposefully strode from the Oval Office and down the hall in the direction of the Residence.
X-X
Fitz sat aboard Marine One sipping a glass of Laphroaig 18 and hoping his headache would soon disappear. He closed his eyes and thought of Olivia as the amber liquid slid down his throat. He thought of their last conversation, how she had misunderstood his anger at finding out Mellie was having an affair. Olivia interpreted his anger as jealousy, he had tried to explain that he felt betrayed by his friend and running mate, Andrew, but he watched her close off, retreating into herself. They had spoken briefly that same evening and she had said she needed to be alone; she needed space and time to think. That was five days ago and he hadn't seen or heard from her since. Why couldn't she understand his feelings of betrayal? How couldn't she see that he didn't love Mellie? Moreover, how couldn't she see that he would do anything for her, that he loved her more than nearly anyone in the entire world, that he wouldn't win reelection without her?
He reached for his phone and dialed her number one last time. Again, he got her voicemail, this time leaving a message, "Livvie, I need to talk to you, I need to hear your voice. You don't have to see me but please call me. I need to know that you're okay." Tears of fear and frustration brimmed in his eyes. He wanted her forgiveness but, more importantly, he wanted to know that no harm had come to her.
Looking out the window he felt a sense of calm as he saw his Vermont home come into view. The house he had built for Olivia, the place he could feel closest to her, the place he could always go to be alone and think. He tucked the phone into his briefcase and started to hum her favorite song.
The helicopter touched down as Fitz gathered his belongings then made his way out into the crisp mountain air. Fitz took a sharp lungful then walked towards the backdoor, slipping his key in the lock and immediately feeling the warmth of their home. He placed his keys on the kitchen counter, his suitcase at the base of the stairs, then walked into the family room.
In the fireplace a fire roared, he stood before the fire for a moment then heard the large sliding glass door open.
"I guess great minds think alike" her voice was beautiful, music to his ears.
"Where have you been?" he tried to sound stern but relief shown through in his voice.
"I've been here" she responded as if his question were preposterous, "I told you I needed time to myself, I needed to think."
He wanted to be angry, to tell her how frightened he was, but he needed to touch her and hold her. She set down the wood she was carrying and brushed her hands on her jeans then grinned up at him.
"I missed you" she ran her hands over his chest.
"You scared me" he wrapped her in his muscular arms, "I thought something happened to you. I thought your mother….or father….Jake….." he kissed her forehead.
"I'm okay" she assured, leaning her forehead against his sturdy chest, "You know me, I always end up on my feet. I just needed to think."
"And you came here" he softened at the thought of her finding refuge in the home he had built for her. He hated that she ran but he loved that she ran to a place that was them.
"I came here because I needed to think about us" she explained, leading him to the couch, "There is something really important we need to talk about."
Fitz pulled her against him as they sat on the couch, "I don't want to talk about Mellie" he kissed her cheek, "You misunderstood why I was upset about Andrew…"
"Stop" she whispered, turning to meet his gaze, "I don't want to talk about Mellie and I don't want to talk about Andrew. I want to talk about us and our future."
"I'm encouraged you think we have a future" he smiled, kissing just behind her ear, his hands finding her ass.
"Wait…Fitz, wait" she pushed him away slightly, "We need to talk. There is something I need to tell you." A mix of hurt, disappointment, and fear registered on his face. His palms were clammy as he wrung them together.
"Tell me Livvie" his voice came out as a mere whisper, "You can tell me anything."
"Wait here" she squeezed his hands and quickly kissed his lips before disappearing up the steps.
She returned several minutes later with a giftwrapped package.
"I got you something" she grinned, "I think you should open it before we talk."
"You got me a gift?" he smiled back at her; she looked so gorgeous sitting a foot away in a soft white sweater, skinny jeans, and boots. He took the gift from her, in awe of the woman he loved.
"I hope you like it" she said sweetly. She bit her lip, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
Fitz leaned in to place a light kiss on her lips before tearing the paper from his gift. Inside was a framed poem, his smile grew as he read the words.
To mountain tops and blue oceans deep
Like birds of the air, the world we'll see
The earth longs to feel our feet in the sand
The trees start to sway as we walk hand in hand
A promise to life, to live and to breathe
To give our children all of their dreams
Our garden, it grows plenty for all
As we seek our maker and all things beautiful
Our daughter the sunshine, our baby the hope
We'll climb to adventure, from rivers below
A promise to life, to live and to breathe
To give our children all of their dreams
He read the words several times over, allowing them to steep in his brain. He looked from Olivia to the poem and back again. His expression was one of awe and joy. He tried to find the words to ask her, to be certain he understood her, to be positive.
"Livvie" he choked out, her face mirroring his, "Are you…..are we…..is there….."
"We're having a baby, Fitz" she whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks.
Suddenly she was in his arms and he was kissing her lips, holding her tightly. He pulled back, Olivia still in his arms, "You're having my baby" his smile was one of pure bliss.
"I'm having your baby" she breathed, still unable to control her tears.
"She's having my baby" he yelled, drawing a laugh from Olivia. He spun her around, then carrying her to the door, he stepped out into the cool Vermont evening and announced into the air, "The woman I love is having my baby!"
Olivia blushed when her eyes met Tom's and she buried her face in Fitz's shoulder.
"Congratulations Ms. Pope" the agent said, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips, "Congratulations Sir."
"Thanks Tom" Fitz shook his hand, then turned back to Olivia, "I don't think I could love you any more than I do in this moment."
"Let's go back inside" she shivered in his arms. They walked hand in hand back through the door and to the couch.
"My baby" he kissed her temple, allowing his palm to rest over her womb, "The love of my life is having my baby."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you last week" she whispered, "I needed to figure out how."
He tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes, "No more running" he kissed her lips as she nodded, "And no more carrying firewood."