a/n: This story is in response to History Princess 1986's challenge. Fitz thinks it's Olivia who is undergoing chemo, and well... clearly he's still in love with her... R&R

Fitz lifted his head as the door to the Oval opened. One of his personal assistants, Jeremy, stepped in, a worried look on his young face.

"Sir," said Jeremy, not daring to come any closer.

"What is it, Jeremy? What do you have for me this time? Did I miss a brunch with Mellie again?" said Fitz, a little on the sarcastic side.

"No Mr. President... it's about her," replied Jeremy, still looking like he might wet his wrinkled pants.

Fitz immediately looked up – Jeremy had his attention now. "What is it? What did you find?"

"Well, Sir, you told me to keep an eye on her… anything suspicious and I'm to report directly to you…" Jeremy trailed off, unsure how to go on.

"Yes, yes – I know. So what did you find?"

"Well, Mr. President, it has come across my path that Olivia Pope is undergoing…" Jeremy took a breath, and started over, "She's undergoing chemotherapy Mr. President," Jeremy looked down at his twenty-dollar shoes – scuffed at the toes.

Fitz sat back in his chair and dropped his pen down on his desk. He sat there frozen for a minute or two; Jeremy was still standing near the door. Finally he looked back up at the boy. "Thank you, Jeremy, you can go."

Just as the young man was about to open the door, Fitz stopped him. "And uh, let's – let's just keep this between us, huh?" The President was standing now.

Jeremy turned back around. "Of course Sir – I wouldn't have it any other way," and he walked out.

Fitz had been sitting in his office in much the same position for the last forty-five minutes. Get a hold of yourself, man. You broke it off – yesterday! You broke it off yesterday and now you have to stay out of it – stay out of her life! But he couldn't. And he knew he couldn't. He'd barely survived the last nineteen hours, knowing that they were officially done.

He heard Cyrus walk in, close the door with a gentle thud, and take his usual seat on the comfortable couch. It always got to him… why was one couch so much more comfortable than the other? Weren't they supposed to be identical?

"Mr. President? Mr. President, this really is very important. Mr. President, Canada just invaded Maine… Mr. President?" Cyrus was trying to get his attention; Fitz knew that, he just couldn't focus. Not now. Not yet.

"Huh? Sorry Cy – got a lot on my mind right now…" He knew he needed to get himself back into this world. Get out of your head – you're the President of the goddamn United States of America. You can focus for fifteen minutes.

"So do we all, Mr. President, so do we all… But I need you to sign off on few things before you head up to the residence tonight," said Cyrus, standing and walking over to the big desk.

"What? What time is it?" Hadn't it just been two o'clock? He couldn't have been sitting here for more than an hour.

"Sir, it's 9 PM."

Good god.

Fitz shook his head, "Right, of course, okay – what do I need to sign?" Cyrus put down the appropriate files in front of him, watching his President as he briefly read through the information and then ran his pen over the dotted line. And because Fitzgerald Grant was his President, because Fitzgerald Grant was like his baby, his child, Cyrus knew something was wrong. He knew it like he knew for a fact that the President of the United States had spent seven hours sitting at his desk doing nothing.

"If you don't mind my asking, Sir, is everything okay?" Cyrus pegged him with his knowing look – the one where if you didn't know he was like a teddy bear on the inside, you would think he just might eat you alive.

Fitz looked up into that stare. He can't know. "Of course, Cyrus, of course. Just tired."

He's lying. "It's her, isn't it?" Cyrus paced over to stand in-between the two couches, "It's Olivia," he paced back and forth, flapping his arms around as he went, "I don't understand why you can't let her go. I mean – I understand it – I do, but… I don't see why you can't let her go. For now at least. She makes you miserable, and -"

"I let her go."

"What?" Cyrus stopped pacing.

"I let her go. Last night I did the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my entire life."

"You let her go."

"I let her go." Fitz looked down at the files that were still stacked on his desk. He stood up, rubbing his hands across his face. He was tired. "We can finish these tomorrow," he said, walking to the door, "'Night, Cy."

TBC...

But what might make me update faster? You guessed it, you magnificent beast - a review.