Hello! Thank you for the kind reviews. Someone informed me that the correct name for the French President's wife is "première dame," so that is how I will refer to her in this. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! The next one should be coming up in a week or so.
Olivia woke up a couple of hours later. It wasn't unusual for her to get a few hours of sleep at night, before getting back to work. Yet, this time, it was her internal clock telling her Alex should probably be needing to use the bathroom.
Olivia rose, carefully peeling herself from Fitz's arms. She was often grateful for what a deep sleeper he was. She checked on Alex, who was awake and had already wetted her pull up. She was curiously pulling at the edge of her pull up, wondering why her bottom felt wet.
"Good morning, Love." Olivia cooed as she scooped her up and took her to the bathroom. She was learning how to potty-train with great progress, but her night time wetting was something only time could fix. Olivia tossed the dirty pull up and gave her a bath, sneaking in a quick shower for herself. She managed to moisturize Alex and get her in some clothes without waking up Karen or Fitz.
By the time Fitz woke up, Olivia was dressed for work and feeding Alex breakfast. He rubbed his eyes, checking his phone. 6:26. He didn't know how she was so up and functioning. He was dying after three and a half hours of sleep.
"Good morning." She said softly, when she heard him sit up.
"It is so early." He squinted at the light coming from the kitchen.
"You should head home and get some more sleep." She crossed over to him and kissed him more awake. "You still have to work tonight."
"I can call in sick. Cyrus will understand."
"Nope, you are going to work." Olivia said grimly. "The press picked up on our relationship around four this morning. Hopefully by tonight, it will die down, but missing work will only stir up gossip."
"Will I run into any problems with the press at the hospital?"
"Probably not. I will call their security so they can be proactive. Be careful what you say, even to your closest co-workers. Anybody can talk to the press for a buck."
"Do you need me to drop off Alex at the day care for you?"
"I'm dropping her off with her nanny. I don't want to bring any unwanted attention to the day care center."
"So she can play hookie, but I can't?" He joked lightly, noting the stress in her voice. "Is Karen…?"
"Still asleep in my bed, yes." Olivia handed him the other half of a banana that Alex couldn't eat. He could smell the coffee brewing. "I didn't know if you wanted to let her sleep in or not. It wouldn't be the worst thing if she skipped school today."
"I'll go wake her." Fitz rose up, stealing one more kiss from her. He let his arm linger around her waist, when she tried to get back to Alex. "How are you?"
"Fine." She said convincingly. He knew that she wasn't, but he also knew that she was in control of everything.
"How is the press situation outside?"
"Better. It's still pretty heavy out front, but we can sneak her out the back."
"I'll go wake her up." Fitz accepted the cup of coffee and walked into Olivia's bedroom. Karen was fast asleep, with her hair covering her face. Fitz sat on the side of the bed, and nudged her softly. "Karen, wake up."
"What?" She groaned, trying to gain her bearings and remember why she was waking up in a stranger's bed.
"Good morning."
"Good morning—I, where is Liv?" Karen pulled her hair back into a ponytail and pushed the covers back.
"In the kitchen. She's fine. They got the press under control outside, so we can leave." Fitz let her have a sip of his coffee to wake her up. "Do you want to go to school today?"
"Do I have a choice?" She asked, surprised. If there was one thing her father was strict on, it was that she was never to skip school.
"Yes, honestly."
Karen checked her phone, scrolling through the endless messages she received over night. "I'll go." She said, surprising Fitz. "I have a presentation in Econ, and my absence would stir up more talk."
"You should leave now, if you want to have time to go home and shower."
/
"What do we have?" Olivia plopped down in a chair in the conference room with her second cup of coffee in hand.
"You look like shit." Marcus said, earning a rough nudge from Quinn.
"I think I look pretty ravishing, considering the three hours of sleep I got last night." Olivia quipped, taking a long sip of her coffee. "What do we have?"
"The intern story we shot out is being accepted." Quinn said, placing a stack of articles in front of her. "Slowly picking up steam, but picking it up nonetheless."
"Has the—"
"Yes, the French President made a statement this morning to the T of what we gave them."
"Good." Olivia said, flipping through the pages. "Where is Huck?"
"In his dungeon." Abbey said, distributing coffee amongst the team members.
"Huck! Bring what you have here." Olivia called.
He immediately emerged from his office and briskly walked down the hall to the conference room. He was wearing the same clothes as the previous night and looked like he spent the night staring at a bright computer screen. "I found the leak."
"Where you here all night?" Abbey handed him a coffee.
"I coded an inter-systemic Trojan that infiltrated—"
"In English."
"I found the computer it was sent from. The IP address was registered under the government in 2012."
"The year the President was elected." Olivia commented.
"The computer is a personal HP lap top. It had been recoded with higher security, which is what took so long."
"So we know it was an internal leak." Quinn said. "What were its coordinates?"
"The Four Seasons in Buenos Aires."
"So it was the wife." Olivia swiveled in her chair as Abbey pinned her picture to the wall.
"No." Huck said cautiously. "At the time that the footage was accessed, which was 1:17pm yesterday, the she was at school seven miles away on a publicity tour. At that moment, she was reading a book to a class of kindergarteners."
"Then whose laptop was it?"
"I was downloading the hotel security footage before you called me." He said, anxiously rubbing his palms along his jeans. "It should be done by now."
"Go." Olivia motioned him to leave. "Someone get me every person on her detail and every person working for her on this trip that has been with the administration since 2012."
Everybody scrambled to their jobs, and Olivia slipped into her office to call Fitz's hospital. She checked with the security to make sure extra personnel would be at the entry points to his wing. She didn't want anybody slipping into his work space or office and trying to get information on him. She also didn't want him to notice that anything was different.
"I have someone." Huck yelled from his office. Everybody dropped what they were doing to hover over his shoulder. "Him." He pointed to a South American man who was seen leaving the hotel room. The timestamp was minutes after the leak.
"Why isn't security stopping him?" Quinn asked.
"We need to ID him." Olivia said, turning to Abbey.
"David. Q-R facial recognition. On it."
"Thank you." Olivia said. "How did he get in? Does he have the security detail's approval?"
"I have kept rewinding the footage to when she left that morning, but I can't find anything." Huck scrubbed back and forth through the footage from when the première dame left that morning.
"Wait…" Olivia took over the mouse and scrolled to the previous night. At 10:38 the première dame retired to her room. Fifteen minutes later, the mysterious man appeared, being nodded in by her detail. "They were having an affair."
/
"David." Abbey smiled as she entered his office and shut the door behind her. He was neck deep in legal documents with highlighters and sticky notes decorating any exposed page.
"I would be naïve to think that you are stopping by to—I don't know—check up on me or bring me lunch, wouldn't I?"
"How is work?" Abbey sat against his desk and pulled his hands away from his work.
"What do you want?" He sighed.
"To surprise my boyfriend in the middle of the day to brighten his boring job." She leaned in to kiss him slowly and deliberately.
"Really. What do you want?" He eyed her suspiciously, but made no move to pull away.
"I need to borrow your Q-R software."
"Abbey—"
"I can't explain it, but it is really important." She begged.
"Let me guess. If I don't risk my job by lending government software to a private firm, then World War III will start."
"Well the nation of France is at risk in this case, so…" Abbey cocked her head in thought. "That could actually be a possibility here."
"No." He swiveled back to his work.
"David, please." Abbey slid onto his lap, pulling the papers out of his hand and putting them back on his desk. "This isn't for OPA. This is for my best friend who is being framed for an international scandal that she has nothing to do with."
"The same best friend that pulls you out of my bed at all odd hours of the night."
"… Yes. That one." She grimaced.
"You realize that I don't even like Liv, right? I don't consider her a friend. If anything, she is the biggest thorn in my professional and aforementioned personal life. I don't even like her in person. She is kind of rude. "
"Yet, you call her Liv." Abbey raised an eyebrow. "And what I admire about you the most is that you are right and good. You stand up for justice. Liv is having her daughter being dragged through the news for something that she didn't do is not right. Help us get to the bottom of this."
"I should be receiving a check for all of the work I do for your firm." He groaned as he logged into his secure computer. Abbey inserted her jump drive and pulled up the picture. After a few moments and clicking of David's mouse, a name popped up.
"Thanks, babe." She kissed him hastily before grabbing her purse and leaving.
"Hey! It was nice catching up with you too." He called sarcastically, but by then she was out of the door.
"I probably won't be home for dinner tonight, but I will make you one hell of feast whenever I do make it home." She peeked her head back in before leaving.
"Damn right." He retorted.
/
"Santino Correa" Abbey pinned a picture to the wall. The man was strikingly handsome, with a strong jaw line and wavy brown hair. "Born in Concordia, dirt poor near the Uruguay border. At the age of 16 he moved to Sao Paolo to work for InterCorps, an international humanitarian organization as an errand boy. His boss, the founder James Pantino promoted him through the ranks over their 22 years of working together, until he was his right hand man. Pantino died last November."
"How did he die?" Olivia asked.
"Heart attack. At 65 years old. No children interested in his organization, naturally, Correa took over. Along with a sizable chunk of his will."
"He is one of the wealthier men in the charity business." Abbey pinned photos of him on a yacht and doing various activities reserved for the 1%.
"When did they meet?" Olivia asked.
"We have no idea of knowing for sure. Their first and only official meeting was back in 2013, when she spoke with him on a panel about water safety at a humanitarian summit. They sat four seats from each other. Either they were strangers or trained actors deserving of an Oscar. Nobody would guess."
Olivia paced back and forth in front of the première dame's picture. "Right now, she is the loose cannon."
"Should we tell the President of her affair?"
"No. Right now his office is scrambling for damage control. The last thing we need is to make him angry or volatile. He will try to suppress her, and she will only retaliate further."
"So is this all a plan to make it plausible for her to divorce him? An affair would make the people side with her, and ruin his political capital." Marcus asked.
"That's the most obvious answer." Abbey said, glancing through some papers. "But that doesn't—"
"Seem right." Olivia finished her sentence, staring deeply into the eyes of Correa's picture. "The first thing we need to do is reach out to the première dame. She can't make a public announcement—not yet."
"Well, we have a ticking time bomb there. At any moment, she could talk to the press." Marcus commented.
"I doubt she would know how to access the Palace's security footage like that." Quinn thought out loud. "There had to be a reason why Correa released it while she was out of her hotel room."
Olivia nodded in agreement. "Let's get to the bottom of why she had Correa release the footage himself."
"I can hack his accounts." Huck offered. "See if he was paid off by someone else."
"Quinn, schedule a trip to Buenos Aires for the day after tomorrow. She's there until the end of the week. We need to find everything we can by tonight, before we confront her. We need to be one step ahead."
"Who all is going?" Quinn asked.
"I can't." Olivia groaned. "Alex." She explained. "Abbey and Marcus, can I trust you on this?"
"Of course." Abbey said, and Marcus nodded in agreement.
"Let me call the French President and let him know of our news and game plan." Olivia began to retreat to her office. "Everybody get to work."
/
THE NEXT NIGHT
Olivia rubbed lotion between her hands, massaging her legs. She heard Fitz finish brushing his teeth in the bathroom, before joining her in bed. She was silent, aware of his presence, but lost in her own thoughts. Her team had yet to pull up anything else. Correa's bank account was clean. Huck and Quinn couldn't find any unofficial correspondence between the première dame and Correa. There was no other evidence corroborating their affair, other than a late night visit the night before. They spent an entire day and a half spinning wheels. As of now, they were going in blind. The plane left at 7:12 the next morning, and Olivia was praying to any higher power that their bluff didn't crumble.
Fitz leaned over to kiss her shoulder. Then her neck. Then deeper into the spots that normally made her melt into his arms. But she just sat there, rubbing her legs that had already soaked up all of the lotion.
"Sorry." Fitz fell back onto his elbow. "You must be so tired… I understand if you aren't in the mood."
Olivia let a moment of silence pass between them. She was still quietly rubbing her hands along her legs.
"Livvie?" He touched her wrist softly, making her stop.
"I want to talk about what you said to me the other night." She didn't mean to say those words, but the work situation was eating her alive. She needed a change of mindset, and unfortunately that was the second thing on her mind.
"When?" Fitz raised his eyebrows, sitting up fully.
"Last night." Olivia turned to face him. "When we fought."
"Shit… I was angry, I don't even remember what I said."
"You asked me if I cheated on you because I didn't think you were enough."
"Liv—"
"You felt that I wasn't being ambitious enough by dating you and that I would be more attracted to someone of a higher status."
"I didn't say that." Fitz stammered, but Olivia raised her eyebrows to press further.
"Did you mean it?"
"No."
"Fitz?"
"No." Fitz put his hand on her knee. "I was angry and confused. So many things were whirling around the apartment and I had no explanation that I lashed out."
"Do you feel like you aren't enough for me?"
"Olivia, I already told you—"
"I don't care if you were angry when you said it or were under pressure, but you still said it. Answer me."
Fitz sighed, tapping his thumb against her knee cap. "Sometimes. Sometimes I feel like you are just from another circle. You have heads of states on speed dial. Your idea of date night is going to the White House for a State Dinner."
"I warned you of who I was before we started dating. I told you to make sure that you were in this, because I am not normal and I will never be normal."
"This is not a deal breaker." Fitz kissed her cheek and leaned back against the pillow.
"But you feel that way." Olivia persisted, looking over at him. "You feel inadequate enough to believe that I would cheat on you."
"I was angry." Fitz sighed, staring at the ceiling. "Please don't hold me to what I said when I was angry."
Olivia knew that he was being overprotective of himself. Even if he didn't mean what he said, he still had those sentiments somewhere inside himself. She slid under the covers and curled into his side. His arm automatically pulled her closer, patting her hip, even if his eyes remained trained to the ceiling.
"You know that I would never cheat on you." Olivia whispered. The lights were out, but she could still see the vague outline of his features from the bedside alarm clock.
"I know that, Livvie." He remained stoic, staring straight ahead. He could feel Olivia's eyes on him even in the dark. She was concerned about him, and he couldn't keep from her. "I know that you wouldn't cheat on me. I just got so worked up at the possibility—when I found out Mellie was cheating on me… that was the worst day of my life. I knew our marriage was becoming distant, but seeing it materialize right there in a concrete extramarital affair hurt me. I guess it was a wakeup call to how naïve I can be in relationships."
"I'm sorry." Olivia whispered, pulling his hand to her lips.
"The worst part is that I love you so much, I don't even know how to keep my head above water. I feel like I am way too in love with you, that if you were to hurt me I wouldn't see it coming."
Olivia felt a tear roll down her cheek. She wondered if he could feel it touch his chest after it left her chin. "I would never intentionally hurt you." Olivia whispered. She brought her hand to his cheek, tracing along his jaw in the darkness.
"But it could happen unintentionally."
Olivia sat up, facing him. She put a hand on his chest, right over his heart. She could feel his chest pounding. Even if he wasn't showing it, he was terrified. He had so many insecurities, it killed her. She didn't know how to show him her love for him. She knew this wasn't just about him being scared by the French president scandal. "Does this have to do with our conversation about marriage?" She knew it was too late to be pulling out difficult subjects, but she couldn't sleep with the millions of questions swirling her brain.
Fitz sat up, finally looking at her. "Do you see yourself remarrying?"
"I don't know." Olivia swallowed hard. He just laid it all on the table, and now it was her turn. "I loved Jake. He was such a good husband and friend. We were… like a team."
Fitz tensed up at her speaking of him lovingly, but he let her finish. For her to talk about Jake at all meant that she was opening up to him—and that was rare. She never talked about Jake.
"That is why I hate thinking about him. No matter how hard I try, I can't negate that I loved him while we were married. And looking back—I really hate him. I am glad he is dead. The only thing that makes me glad that we even laid eyes on each other is the fact that I have Alex. But other than that, I wish he never knocked my phone out of my hand in that coffee shop. And I hate how he messes with me to this day—even after he is dead."
Fitz saw the panic and stress rise in her. He softly rubbed her thigh, encouraging her to finish.
"But he is the reason why I am so hesitant to think about marriage again. I know that you aren't him. And what I feel for you makes any other love I have felt for anyone else pale in comparison. I know that what we have is incredibly rare, and I don't want to lose it. But I don't want to put you in the same category as him. Husband. I just can't wrap my mind around it."
Fitz stared at the ceiling, his hand stilled against her thigh. She could tell that no matter how honest and well-meaning she was still hurting him with her words. She laid back down, resting her head on his chest. "That doesn't mean that I don't love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you to be a presence in Alex's life. I—I just need you to be patient with me."
They laid there in silence, unsure what to say to each other. They were both too vulnerable to comfort one another, and even if they weren't neither knew how to comfort the other. Fitz took her hand in his, squeezing it against his chest. Olivia hooked her leg in between his, trying to connect their bodies as much as possible.
/
Fitz woke up to an empty bed. He was honestly confused as to why Olivia acted the way she did the night before. Why did she insist on having such a difficult conversation, amidst her own separate crisis?
He was more perplexed by how she was functioning so early. Alex was still asleep, but he heard her in the kitchen on the phone. The smell of coffee was strong as he got up and brushed his teeth. By the time he met her in the kitchen, he could tell that she was on her second cup of coffee. He kissed her cheek, careful not to interrupt her phone call, as he poured his own cup.
"And you couldn't get through to their private phones?" Olivia asked. Stress was evident all across her body language. "And there was nothing there." Olivia repeated, sighing heavily.
Fitz assumed that she was on the phone with Huck. How he got the invasive information from his computer, Fitz had no idea, but he knew that Huck was an essential part to how OPA operated.
"Well, I guess we go in blind." Olivia pressed her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. "Okay. Thank you for trying." She hung up.
"Good morning." Fitz said softly.
"Good—hold on." Her fingers were already dialing a new number. "Marcus… Okay, you heard." She was silent for a moment, "You need to be one thousand percent more careful now. We can't bust in accusing her of an affair that we have no proof of. Nothing would be worse than that."
Another elongated beat of silence.
"My gut says that she is having an affair." Olivia said honestly. "I just feel like we are missing key pieces to this puzzle."
Fitz heard a faint voice on the other end of her cell phone.
"Okay. Have Abbey call me when you land." She hung up her phone, all but threw it onto the kitchen countertop. "Fuck." She mumbled under her breath.
"Hi." Fitz whispered, pulling her from her trance.
"Hi." She offered back weakly. "I'm sorry about last night." She let him pull her body against his.
"Don't be." He kissed her lips briefly. "We both said some things that we needed to say."
"I shouldn't have unloaded—"
"I don't regret it." He cut her off, causing the left corner of her mouth to curve upwards. That was enough victory for him. "And you neither should you. You have a busy day ahead of you."
"Okay." She accepted, nodding to the own thoughts in her head. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet."
"I think it was a combination of the coffee and the cold left side of the bed." Fitz smiled, sipping from his mug.
/
Quinn watched her boss pace intensely about the conference room. Marcus and Abbey were supposed to be meeting with the première dame any second now. "On a level of 1-10—"
"12." Olivia cut her off. "That is the level of stress right now." She braced her two hands against the conference table, in a death stare with the telephone on the table. "Where is Huck?"
"I don't know." Quinn admitted. "He hasn't turned in yet."
"This doesn't feel right." Olivia grabbed the phone in front of her, dialing a number so fast, Quinn thought she might smash the phone. "Marcus?"
"Yes?" His voice came through the speaker.
"Where are you?"
"In the elevator, going up to her suite."
"Stop. Abort. Turn around and leave."
"What? Are you crazy?" He accused. "We are almost steps from her door."
"I don't care. Turn around." She demanded.
"Why? What did you find out?"
"Nothing. I just don't have a good feeling about this." She heard him speak out of range to Abbey, who grabbed the phone from him.
"Liv, what the hell is going on here?"
"Turn around. Right now."
"What are we supposed to do now?"
"I don't know." Olivia snapped. "Go grab some coffee. Eat some authentic Argentinian food. Just lay low for now until I give orders."
"But—" Abbey protested.
"I said leave." Olivia jammed the end call button, leaving Quinn in confused silence.
"But we had a plan—"
"That won't work anymore." Olivia hung up and began pacing again, with her palm to her forehead. "God, what was I thinking? Going into a room with the wife of the French President, accusing her of an affair with no proof. Where the fuck is Huck?! I just…"
"Have something!" Huck called from the door. Olivia had never seen him break a sprint, but he was booking it to the conference room. He slammed his laptop onto the table, opening his laptop and revealing a grainy security film. It was the summit's green room. First she is in there but—"
"I can see for myself." Olivia snapped. She watched intently as Huck hyped the speed until Correa entered. They were immediately embraced, making out like teenagers behind the bleachers at prom.
"Damn." Quinn commented.
"This changes everything." Olivia was immediately pacing with her eyes glued to the laptop, but the phone was dialed. "Turn around. We have something. Huck will send it to your phone."
"But we are already downstairs."
"I don't give a fuck. Hope your ass in that elevator."
"Too late." Marcus called.
"What do you mean too late?" Olivia asked.
"She's on the move. To the airport."
Quinn held out her phone to Olivia's view. "Her people are setting up a podium in Paris. She's cutting her Argentina trip short."
"Intercept her plane." Olivia said into the phone. "She can't get off of that plane at De Galle."
"We can't just—"
"Do it." Olivia yelled, slamming the end call button again. She cursed under her breath, before dialing them back.
"Olivia what the fuck—"
"Shut up and listen to me. Have you called a cab yet?"
"Marcus is right now."
"I will try my best to delay her from here. The second you get to the airport, say you are working for the French President. I will pull his connections to give you access. When you get to meet with her, don't mention the president's name. Say you are working for me. That should get her attention. Please, I swear to God, please, appear on her side. Make sure that she knows that we are on her side as much as his. The evidence that Marcus should be receiving on his phone any second now is explicit footage of her and Correa at the summit. If push comes to shove, make it clear that we will use this footage as weaponry to expose her as a vindictive bitch pinning her husband's infidelity on innocent women to allow her divorce. Use that as your last resort. But get to the bottom of this. Please." Olivia begged. "Text me when you are in contact with her."
"You taught us well. Consider it handled." Abbey said before hanging up.
Olivia picked up the phone and dialed the French office, so that her call would be private. "Good afternoon, Mr. President." Her tone was automatically different, in polite and cordial manner. "I need a favor—yes, we are close to finishing this… That's flattering to hear… But, yes, I need a timely favor. Can you delay your wife's plane from Bueno Aires?"
Quinn and Huck waited uncomfortably to hear Olivia's response.
"No, it's crucial… I swear, however bad it might seem to the press on your part, my team will work tirelessly to counter that image to the press…Thank you. I promise, we won't disappoint. I will let you know when to lift your ban." She hung up, taking a deep breath.
"Well?" Quinn asked.
"The president is having his team fabricate technical difficulties on the plane. That will keep her grounded until Marcus and Abbey can reach her. Then it is up to them."
"Is it too early to start drinking?" Quinn asked.
"I have whiskey in my office." Huck began to retreat.
"No offense, but I have some better quality scotch in my office." Olivia retreated to her office and returned with a canter that she only reserved for Fitz on special occasions.
/
"Why is her plane just sitting there?" Abbey asked as her and Marcus jogged across the tarmac.
"Liv must've found a way to delay their flight." He said, struggling to keep up with Abbey.
"No entry." A guard stood firmly in front of them.
"Nous avons une réunion d'urgence avec la première dame." Marcus said in perfect French.
"No entry." He repeated.
"Uh… Do you speak English?" Abbey asked.
The guard shook his head, but his companion next to him nodded slightly.
"Get a message to the première dame that we are working for Olivia Pope. It is crucial that we have a word with her."
The guard glanced over at his French speaking companion, who was obviously in charge. After a long second, the first guard nodded, giving him the permission to relay the message to the special passenger. He pressed his earpiece and spoke into the cuff of his military uniform in quiet French.
"I could have said that in French." Abbey Marcus muttered under her breath. "Four years of college French down the drain.
Seconds later, the steps to the plane unfolded. A guard stood at the top and motioned for them to ascend. The two guards frisked them for weapons or wires before giving them the clear signal.
"Follow my lead." Abbey whispered to Marcus as they began to climb the steps. Abbey had never flown on Airforce One—unlike Olivia, who refused to spill any details whenever she did—but Abbey imagined it wasn't as nice as the jet they were on. The walls were dark mahogany with gold detailing. Art work hung on the sides of the cabins from famous French painters. Marcus let out a low whistle, earning an elbow from Abbey as a guard led them past several rooms to the première dame's office.
"Madame, Les gens du bureau d'Olivia Pope." The guard announced.
"Merci." The première dame said, hidden behind a large newspaper. She motioned for everybody to leave the room, except for Abbey and Marcus. For a long second, she finished the article and set the newspaper down. She was even more beautiful in person, removing her glasses from her slender nose and setting them on the table. She was wearing a black wrap dress that fit her like a tailored Chanel glove.
"Bonjour, Madame." Abbey began. "Mon nom est Abbey Whelan, et c'est mon collègue Marcus Walker. Nous sommes ici au nom de Olivia Pope."
"We can talk in English, if that is easier." She extended her hand, shaking each, and motioning for them to have a seat in the plush velvet chairs across from her. "I know how the American education system fails to teach other languages. Plus, I'm sure that you are aware of my Master's degree from Columbia. No need to hurt yourselves, trying to be polite."
"Thank you." Abbey said as they were seated.
"My husband has bitterly grounded this plane despite some very important appointments of mine. I hope you don't mind if you tell your boss to tell him that we can take off? My people can arrange travel plans for you to get back to the States after we land in Paris."
Marcus pulled out his phone and sent her requests to Olivia. "Done. Thank you for your hospitality."
"Well?" She raised her eyebrows and leaned back in her chair. "What do you want? And please be forward. Despite my ornamental role in French politics, I do have work to do."
"We know that you are planning to announce divorce once we land." Abbey began, taking the lead.
"Smart." She commented.
"And I think everybody in this room knows that Olivia Pope is not your husband's mistress."
"I don't believe everything I see in the news."
"And it is important that you know that we are not here on behalf of your husband. Our mission is to defend our boss and make sure that everybody benefits from this situation."
"Noted."
"If you make a statement announcing divorce, it will only strengthen the accusations against Olivia. You get what you want, but at the price of an incredible woman losing all professional credibility. Olivia can take it, but she has a family who should not be dragged into it." Abbey felt the plane start to taxi down the runway.
The pilot came over the intercom, asking them to buckle their seat belts and announcing landing times.
"I am sorry to hear about Ms. Pope's predicament, but unfortunately I have made up my mind." She sipped her lemon water before continuing. "I am divorcing that bastard."
"We understand, but maybe—" Marcus began, but she cut him off.
"It would waste your time for me to rant about the tropes of a bored wife, tired of seeing her philandering husband gaining all of the respect in the world. Yes, I believe you when you say that your boss was not the subject to my husband's escapades, but there have been many. I am too old to put up with it anymore. Am I sorry that your boss got caught up in this? Yes. I wish it wasn't ruining the reputation of a fine person, but unfortunately we are here."
Abbey's eyes narrowed, noting how flippant the woman in front of her was about Olivia's predicament. It was time to bring out the ammo. "That narrative only works if the man is the one fooling around. While I don't know of your husband's personal life, I do know that when the wife is not faithful as well, there is a bit of hypocrisy at play."
"You are making some lofty accusations here." She warned in an entirely new tone. By now, the plane was in the air, and the city of Buenos Aires was becoming smaller and smaller through the cabin windows.
"We wouldn't be doing so without proof." Marcus pulled his tablet out of his briefcase. "Press play."
She took the tablet and pressed play, watching the footage of her and her lover. Her face remained still like marble—just her eyes darted across the screen. She showed no emotions as she watched the clip in its entirety. "Who has seen this?" She asked calmly as she handed the tablet back.
"Just Olivia." Marcus said, putting away his tablet.
"So I'm assuming this changes the game?" Abbey asked, trying to hide her smugness.
"What is your plan if it doesn't, Ms. Whelan?" She asked, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms.
Abbey could tell that she was panicking on the inside. Her back was against the wall, and now she was on the defensive. It was time to use that to her advantage. "If we cannot reach an agreement by the time the plane lands, I'm afraid that I will have to alert Olivia, and our tech guy will send it to every international press across the globe. I imagine that the networks will use a split screen to show your press conference and this footage at the same time."
"But we don't want that." Marcus said, trying to take the edge off of the direction of their conversation. "Like we said earlier, we are here to protect the interests of our boss, and make sure that everybody is happy at the end of the day."
"And my husband? What he wants is for me to stand by his side. That is not what I want. How do you and your magical firm fix that? Because trying to convince me to stay would only prove your naivety."
"We are unconcerned with your husband's outcome." Marcus said. "Any work he has hired our firm for does not extend to this case. He is not our client anymore. You are."
"And yet he delayed the plane for you?" She raised her eyebrows. "Is he privy to the conversation on this plane? And the footage?"
"That was more of Olivia pulling a favor." Abbey smirked. "We have not told him of the footage, and that can remain so."
She leaned back, sipping her water and looking between each of them.
"What do you want?" Marcus asked, taking the lead. Abbey had established herself as the hard ass, so he had to reel in the rest.
"Excuse me?"
"Why don't we start with what you want, and then we can work towards a mutually beneficial situation."
She pondered for a moment. "I want a divorce."
"Okay, we can—" Abbey started.
"Let me finish." She cut her off. "I want a divorce. That is step one. It should be noted that I want a divorce so favorable that the people take my side. I don't care what they think of him, but I want to be clean. Next step—and, yes, there are many steps to this, because no matter how badly you can tank my reputation with that video, I can do much worse for your boss. The next step is public office."
"You want to run for office?"
"I want to be president." She corrected. "I have practically been running this country for my husband. He is handsome and exceptionally skilled with kissing babies, but who do you think navigated the Iranian crisis? Him with his daddy's money? Or me with a PhD in international relations? I am sure that the second I leave his sorry ass, he will crash and burn politically. But I won't be worried about that. Because a respectable amount of time after our divorce—which will happen—I will begin to publicly date an Argentinian humanitarian. Two years later we will marry, and I will be ripe for the picking of the highest office in our beautiful country."
"You want power." Abbey corrected.
"Doesn't everybody?" She took another sip from her water glass. Abbey began to wonder if it was water or vodka. "So I answered your question. Now it is your turn. What can you do for me?"
"I'm sure that you are familiar with our boss, Olivia Pope. If for some reason you weren't before this scandal broke, I'm sure that you have familiarized yourself with the mountains she can move." Abbey was on a roll. "She not only moves mountains, she alters the rest of the world to fit that mountain. A divorce is child's play to us. You will get your divorce, and you will emerge victorious from it. The president part? Well, you have established yourself in this room, at least, to be more than capable and ambitious to get yourself there by your own doing. However, we will tirelessly work by your side to ensure your success."
"That's a lofty claim for an outsider to French politics."
"Wikipedia who the campaign manager for the sitting American president was." Abbey smirked. "We specialize in press and media. Anything you want to break on your opponent, we will make sure that every Frenchman and woman wake up to that with their morning cappuccino and beignet."
"Ms. Pope's reputation does precede her."
"The networks are already waiting at your podium, so an announcement is mandatory." Abbey admitted. "So the divorce announcement must happen—we won't prolong that. But before you even mention the divorce, you must clear Olivia's name. Say it is preposterous, and you are grateful for her service to the French government, and admire her professionally. That will help your image already with women's empowerment."
The pemière dame pressed a button on the switchboard in the corner of her desk. She spoke so fast into it, that the only part Marcus picked up was the name of an expensive French champagne. She kept a smirk on her face until an attendant entered with the aforementioned bottle of champagne and three glasses.
"Merci." She said as the attendant poured three glasses, offering one to Marcus and Abbey.
"Deal." She said after the attendant exited. She held her glass forward for a clinking toast, but Marcus held his hand out, stopping Abbey.
"Someone as smart as you should know the importance of contract binding deals. We will draft up an official agreement."
She pulled back her flute. "My apologies. But for now, would a ceremonic toast do? Forgive us French for using sentimentality as an excuse to drink."
"To that." Abbey held out her glass, and Marcus followed. They each drank to the new agreement.
"If you excuse me, I must find my words for this evening's press." The première dame swiveled her chair back to her chair. "I will have you stay in the first suite. I know it is a long flight, but if I must endure it, I guess you should too. Unless, you find skydiving over the Atlantic as a better alternative."
"The first suite is perfect." Abbey beamed as she stood. "But you have more important work. I will have Olivia draft your statement for you."
"Even better." She smiled, leaning back into her chair.
"We just need the wifi password." Marcus asked, checking his tablet.
/
"Fucking YES." Olivia exclaimed as she saw a notification on her laptop.
"What?" Quinn practically jumped out of her seat. They were each several glasses of scotch deep, sitting in Olivia's office. At least, Huck and Quinn were sitting on the couch. Olivia was sitting criss-cross on the carpet, checking her laptop over the last three hours. All they knew was that they were on the plane. Whether they got any correspondence over the next 13 hours was unknown.
"They reached a deal. Hold on… Marcus is skyping me." She turned her laptop around so that everybody was in the frame. "What?" She asked in her usual impatience.
Abbey's face appeared, dominating the frame. "She is going to proclaim that you are not his mistress."
Olivia sighed deeply, relaxing back against the coffee table. "That's it?"
"Not exactly." Marcus stole the tablet from Abbey. "We need to draft a statement for her. That you are obviously not engaged at any sexual activities with his presidency, and—hold on." Marcus shifted the camera to the ceiling as an attendant appeared in the corner, pouring wine. "Merci." Marcus said as the attendant left. "Sorry about that—"
"Hold on—Is that a 1994 Du Bellay?"
"Yeah, she just sent over a bottle for us."
"Jealous." Olivia remarked.
"Are you drunk?" Abbey asked, stealing back the tablet. "Never mind, don't answer that. So turns out, that she wants to be the French president. All these years, she's been advising him on major international issues, and now she wants her seat at the table. We settled on her clearing your name, as long as we facilitate her inevitable divorce and help her with her rise to power."
Olivia bowed her head into her hand, sighing deeply. "We can work with that."
"Are you not happy?" Abbey asked.
"No, I'm ecstatic." Olivia smiled. "Excuse me, I'm just so relieved that it is all settled. Good work, Abbey."
"It was actually Marcus who tied it together in the end. Did you know that he is fluent in French?" Abbey panned the camera to show Marcus's smiling face.
"I didn't." Olivia laughed. "Thank you. But your work isn't done. Draft the press statement. Send it to me, and I'll proof it. Then make sure she is okay with it."
"Aye aye, Cap'n." Marcus saluted.
"And if there is a second bottle of that Du Bellay lying around, steal it for me. That is fine shit you are sipping. Don't spill it."
"We won't disappoint."
/
Olivia was watching the mundane 24-hour coverage of the empty press podium, waiting for the première dame's arrival. Her plane didn't land for another 5 hours, but Olivia couldn't bring herself to go home yet. Alex's nanny dropped her off, and she was talking gibberish to herself on the floor, playing imaginary games with her stuffed animals.
"Liv?" Quinn peeked her head in her office. "Is it cool if I head out now?"
"Yeah, of course. Have a good night."
"Same to you." Quinn said, before leaving.
Olivia sat there, running the past couple of days through her head. Something still seemed off about the case. Yes, everything miraculously worked out, but the more she researched Correa, the more her gut conflicted with the facts.
"Huck." She called down the hall. He came out of his office. "Come here for a second."
"Yeah?" He asked.
"How did you get the footage from the conference? I thought you said that all of the security footage had been destroyed."
"I, uh, called in a favor." He shifted back and forth.
"With who?"
"An old acquaintance." He was strangely not making eye contact.
"Huck?" She searched his face.
"Don't worry about it."
"Was this acquaintance illegal?"
"Don't worry. I was safe."
"Huck…" Olivia knew that before she hired him, he did many illegal cyber hacking jobs. He was a part of a ring of untraceable hackers, until a client of his slipped up and turned him in to save his own ass. That was how they met—Olivia helped him reduce his sentence and took him in afterwards.
"You don't have to worry about me."
"Please don't do that again. I don't want you to be owing any favors to anybody."
"Okay. Do you need anything else?"
"No." Olivia was slightly taken back by his change in behavior. "You can go home. Tomorrow, I want you to look into Correa deeper."
"Okay." Huck retreated to his office, and she heard him leave a couple of moments later.
/
Marcus walked up to the guard outside of her suite.
"J'ai la déclaration pour la première dame." He held up the piece of paper.
"Let him in." He heard her from behind the door, before the guard could respond. He nodded, opening the door and letting Marcus into her office.
"This is the first draft. Feel free to mark what you like and don't like, and we can work from there."
She took the paper, nudging her reading glasses up her nose to read them. Marcus began to back away to give her privacy, but she held her hand up, motioning for him to sit. After a minute of silence and her scribbling some things into the margin, she lowered the paper and removed her glasses.
"You speak French very well."
"Thank you." He smiled.
"Did you study abroad in college?"
"I spent a summer semester in Senegal doing undergraduate research, but most of my fluency comes from college classes."
"What did you research?"
"Post-colonial politics and international law. But I don't want to bore you with how your country, along with the rest of Europe, screwed over Africa." He joked.
"I won't hold you to your country's imperialism if you don't hold me to mine." She winked. She handed over the paper. "It looks good. I will try to catch some sleep in a couple of hours, so get me a second draft before then."
"Thank you." He rose, buttoning his suit jacket. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead."
"Why Olivia?"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Her eyebrows raised in confusion.
"Why did you chose to release the footage of Olivia? Surely there are many other videos of women going in and out of his chambers late at night."
She was silent. Her head shifted back and forth in the slightest, barely shaking. "I didn't."
Marcus searched her face, realizing that she was telling the truth. The air was thick and awkward. "My apologies. We will get a second draft to you very shortly." He exited.
"Did she like it?" Abbey asked eagerly, the second he returned to their suite.
He silently handed her the revised draft, sitting next to her. His head fell into his hands as he thought through everything.
"This is perfect." Abbey said, checking out the corrections. "We just have to shift that around, and omit that—" She noticed Marcus distracted. "Marcus? What is wrong?"
"She didn't know about the leak." He stood and started pacing.
"What? How do you know?"
"I asked her why she chose to release the footage of Olivia, when there were many other women. She genuinely didn't know what I was talking about."
"Wait, that means that Correa was acting alone."