Hello! I had a cool idea for a fanfiction and thought that it would fit nicely into the Suits category. Enjoy!

Prologue

Chicago. A concrete jungle with skyscrapers that go on for miles and miles. Where Massive elms line every avenue and the wind gently blows persimmon-colored leaves throughout the streets while crinkled brown ones litter the sidewalks and hidden alleyways. As the September sun rose outside of their 1920s townhouse, Jessica and Harvey quietly started what would be the last day of their eleven-year marriage. Eleven years. It seemed like such a small number, but as they laid in their prospective beds and replayed thousands of memories, both knew that their time together was immeasurable. Eleven years. Four cities. Countless jobs. Two children. And one complicated relationship, which in all honesty expanded more than eleven years. Their love story began more than twenty years ago. Two decades. One score. Correction. One very long score of pushing and pulling, of chasing and running, and most of all—of bad timing with small, perfect stolen moments.

Twenty years ago, one warm Wednesday morning, much like this one, two unlikely people met in small White House bathroom, and unknowingly, began a love affair that could rival that of Cleopatra and Marc Antony or Romeo and Juliet. Like all great love stories, they found each other amidst chaos and started something that was doomed from the beginning.

Twenty years earlier…

As news reporters filed into the Blue Room, they patiently waited for the announcement of a lifetime. Today, Robert Zane would announce his reelection bid for the White House as a new found Democrat. It was historical, and no one wanted to miss it. The last president to run after a party switch was Teddy Roosevelt in the 1900s, and we all know how that turned out. Now, fast forward a few decades and Robert Zane was trying it again. With an approval rating above sixty percent, a booming economy with a growing middle class, and two long-fought wars finally won, he was a shoo in for reelection, despite flip-flopping with his party name.

While tangled cords covered the hardwood floors with cameras sprinkled about, reporters quietly chitchatted among themselves and tried to predict the public's response to the news. Would the American people believe his "change of heart" story? Or would they see it as another political stunt to increase his odds of winning? Given his presidential report card, they doubted if the public even cared that he had changed parties. The country was the best had ever been within the last three presidents.

Down the hallway, in secret waiting area, President Zane patiently waited with his staff. After a dozen morning briefings, a few conference calls with other world leaders, and one final campaign roundtable, his moment had finally come, and he was ready for it.

"Mr. President," called a campaign staffer. "Sir, we're going live in fifteen minutes. Should I go grab the First Lady and Rachel?"

"Yes, please," he answered while reviewing his speech one last time. "…and where's Peter? This speech needs to be reworked. I think that I should spend less talking about my party switch and more about the hike in minimum wage for federal workers and how I plan to bring that to all workers. Where is he?!" He asked as he threw a stack of papers onto the table and took a deep breath. "You know what it doesn't matter. I'll just speak off the cuff." He gently smoothed the wrinkles from his suit and buttoned his jacket.

"Sir. I don't think that's good idea," interrupted his chief of staff as he intently watched the pre-announcement coverage by all of the major news networks. "Today is not the day to go off the cuff."

"What's that supposed to mean, Louis?" countered Robert as he took a step towards him. "I was doing this long before you came into the picture, and I will be doing it long after you leave."

Louis took a step closer to him and looked him in the eye. "You-"he pointed. "Going off the cuff is what got us into this mess. If you would have delivered on that trade agreement with those Asian countries, then we wouldn't have needed to switch parties. We could have-"

"That agreement was dog shit, and you know it! If I would have signed that agreement, businesses would have fled this country like it had the plague, and all our hard work to create a growing middle class would have went out the window! I hung myself for that legislation! It is the hallmark of my-"

"Well, that's not how the party leadership saw it," interrupted Louis. "…which is why we're in this shitty predicament." Louis took step back and began watching the coverage again. "So Robert, sit down. Learn the speech. And leave the all the heavy lifting to me….and maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to save your god-forsaken ass before the first primary."

"Mr. President" he corrected.

"Excuse me?" responded Louis without looking.

Robert stepped closer to Louis and adjusted his posture. "It's Mr. President. Despite what you may think of me, I'm still the leader of the free world and deserve to be addressed as such." Louis stared at Robert without a batting an eye. "…and if you can't do that, then you can go."

"I can't go. I wish I could, and believe me I have tried. " Hgggghhhkjnn fHe joked as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "…but I'm already tied to this sinking ship, which means I need this to work just as much as you because not a single firm on K Street is willing to take a chance on me right now!" He grabbed his phone and briefings from the coffee table and preceded towards the door. "And next time, if you have something to say, Mr. President, just say it." He called as a Secret Service agent closed the doors behind him.

As everyone watched Louis leave, they all stood frozen trying to comprehend what they saw. They all heard about the drag outs between Louis and the President, but no one had ever witnessed one. These "fights" were more like mythical legends…old wives tales that floated down the White House halls and between the gossipy lips of young interns. Once, there was rumor, about two years ago, that the two actually came to blows over the NSA's budget and broke a 17th century rose bowl in the process. The existence of these fights were always doubted, but now, it seemed like a real possibility.

"Sir," whispers another staffer into his ear. "The First Lady isn't responding to the staff's request to come down."

"What do you mean she's not responding?"

"She…she's…" stuttered the young woman. "She's locked herself in the master bathroom, and she's not answering the door, so…."

"Well, figure it out." He looks down at her ID badge. "Molly."

"But sir…"

"Molly," he interrupted smugly. "You're new, so I'm going let you in on a secret. My wife, amazing as she may be, pulls little stunts like this all of the time, which is why we hired you. Think of yourself as an overqualified, overpaid babysitter. It is your job to make sure that she shows up, and if you can't do that, the campaign will be forced to let you go and find someone who can."

"But sir…"

"Just break down damn the door and drag her down here." He looks across the room and points to one of the younger Secret Service agents. "Hey you…" He calls.

"Spector…Harvey." responded the guy as he adjusted his tie. "Special Agent Harvey Spector."

"Okay…Special Agent Harvey Spector, can you follow Molly upstairs and help her with the First Lady. Apparently, she has locked herself in the bathroom and can't get out. So, if you could help her with that, I would appreciate it."

"Yes Mr. President," answers Harvey with a smile. "It would be my pleasure.

As Harvey climbed the stairs to the residency, he was in awe of his surroundings. Classical artwork that he had only seen in textbooks lined the white walls while priceless knickknacks were neatly arranged on the round mahogany tables at the top. The space oozed grace and elegance. For a moment, he felt like he was kid in an art museum for the first time. However, as he passed the Residency's formal sitting room filled with staffers, he remembered that he was in the lion's den.

Growing up, Harvey never thought that he would leave his small New Jersey town, let along live and work in DC, the nation's capital, or protect the President of the United States. As a kid, he had dreams of becoming a high school teacher and moving to a "nice" suburb to raise a family with Kelly, his college sweetheart. However, life had different plans, and he was grateful. As an undergrad, he accidently signed up for a class on law enforcement and loved it, which lead him to WITSEC within the US Marshalls. Then, six years later, he received phone call out of the blue from that very professor offering him a position at the Secret Service, and he couldn't say no. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, but it came with a cost, a big one that he reluctantly paid.

"Mrs. Zane," called Molly bringing Harvey out of his thoughts. "Mrs. Zane? You're needed in the Blue Room." Molly knocked on the door once again and waited a beat. No response.

"How long has she been in there?" asked Harvey as he removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves.

"I don't know," she answered in a hushed voice. "Maybe twenty minutes. You would have to ask her detail."

"Okay…stand back." Harvey took a deep breath. "Mrs. Zane, I need you to step away from the door because on 'three' I will break it down. One…two...three…" Harvey rushed into the door and was shocked by what he saw. "Call an ambulance!" He screamed as he quickly scanned the bathroom for threats. "…and go get the President!"

As Harvey ran into the bathroom, he didn't know what to think, so he just acted. The First Lady was unconscious on the floor and needed his immediate attention.

"Oh my god…is she breathing?" whispered Molly as she fumbled with her phone.

"Ma'am?" he called. "Can you hear me?" He checked her for a pulse. "Her heart is still beating, so that's good." He scanned the room again searching for more clues as to what happened. There were no signs of a struggle. Plus, the door was locked from the inside. There was no blood on the walls or the floor, so it wasn't a head wound. Then, between the marble toilet and the corner tile, he saw an orange prescription tube, and he knew. He didn't want to believe it, but he knew. He scooped her up and rushed her to the toilet. "I'm so sorry," he whispered as he shoved two fingers down her throat. "I'm so sorry." Then, he heard her deep cough and prepared for the worst. Within a few seconds, he felt a hot liquid gush down his fingers and onto his forearm and watched as massive bits of food flew into the toilet with a thunk. "There we go." He whispered as he rubbed small circles on her back. "Good girl."

"Please stop," whispered Jessica in a hushed voice between coughs. "Just let me die."

"Jessica!" screamed Robert as he ran into the bathroom. "My God, are you okay? What happened?" he asked as he pulled her in for a hug.

"I don't know sir, but she needs to see a doctor," answered Harvey as he began washing hands. "...and some fluids. Someone bring her some water." He quickly dried his hands on the lemony-yellow hand towel and grabbed his jacket from the bed. He needed to go. Soon the ambulance would be there as well as the FBI and the director of the Secret Service, and they would all have questions for him. So, he needed to get out of there and gather his thoughts…prepare a statement, especially if he wasn't going tell them the truth. But was that the "truth?" It was more like a theory…his theory about what happened, which she could deny...and who would they believe? After all, she was the First Lady.

Thanks for reading, and feel free comment!