Ch. Hidden in the Shadows
Olivia stood leaning heavily on her marble kitchen counter and watched as her cup of mint tea released a billowing cloud of steam into the atmosphere. It was scalding hot, too hot to drink, damn. Normally, Olivia wasn't anxious for her tea to cool, but she felt absolutely exhausted and lightheaded, ironically more so than usual. She felt as if she was going to pass out. Maybe all the laps in the pool she was doing in her more than ample free time were catching up with her? But the culprit was more likely her late night chats with Fitz. He'd call at 12 and sometimes they'd talk until the wee hours of the morning. If she was tired from their nights, how was he even functioning? Regardless, she needed caffeine in her system pronto.
Olivia rummaged through the top drawer looking for a 5 hour energy. She seldom drank the energy boosters, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Olivia raised the bottle to her mouth, and drank the whole thing in one shot.
Abby emerged from Olivia's bathroom.
"Gross, what are you doing? You hate those," said Abby giving a disapproving look, "Plus, it'll ruin your palette. I'm about to make you the world's best French toast."
Olivia knocked back the rest of the drink and looked Abby in the eyes playfully. "Maybe I wouldn't be so tired if my best friend hadn't insisted on coming over so early to make breakfast."
"Oh be quiet. It's not like I don't know the real reason you're so tired."
Abby raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. "Boyfriend keeping you up? And I use the word boyfriend loosely."
Olivia bit her lip incriminating herself. Abby poked her in the side knowingly.
"Just be careful, okay, With Grant I mean. No more disasters," changing the subject, "But really, this is all your fault. Why'd you let senator Tiligan set this meeting so freaking early. If the meeting was later, I could have come over to make breakfast later- like at 10- instead of now. I mean an 8 o'clock meeting. What gives?
Abby pulled out the pots and pans she needed.
Olivia sighed, rolling her shoulders.
"I'm just, I'm just eager to get back on track."
"I know, me too, but it doesn't mean we should kill ourselves with early hours," Abby continued, "Now let's cut all the talking and make breakfast," Said Abby cracking a smile.
Fitz stood restlessly near the door to air force one pounding his fist lightly against the wall ready to deplane after a long flight from DC to the World Water Conference. He was fed up from waiting. He'd been standing there for what seemed like forever.
"Mellie," he huffed exasperated, "What are you doing? Hurry up."
Mellie made her own noise of exasperation. Could he just wait a minute? The world would wait. He was president; she First Lady. She smudged her makeup and needed to fix it.
He rounded the corner separating them and rolled his eyes. Things between them had been insufferable lately.
"Come on."
Mellie gave him a face that said "screw you" and proceeded to finish fixing her makeup.
"Don't you have someone to do that for you?" Questioned Fitz.
She wasn't even going to dignify a response to that, of course she did, but she had smeared it after getting it done.
He walked back to his spot near the door, which had now been opened.
"Fine. I'm going disembark without you. Come down when you're ready." said Fitz calmly.
Mellie's shilloette appeared around the corner, hand still raised with her mascara wand.
"You can't, you won't. People will ask questions about why you "abandoned" me. It'll distract from the conference and I know you wouldn't want that. This is a Conference you care a lot about," Mellie challenged.
"Let them ask questions, then," said Fitz with a hardened look in his face.
"Boy, not being with Livvie, makes Fitzy boy cranky doesn't it? I hear you on the phone with her every night, but no visits to her and none to you. She's not putting out like you want?
Fitz scowled, Mellie smirked. She's hit him in his weak spot and they both knew it.
Fitz turned away full of carefully masked fury, stepped on the top stair, and waved to the press. Mellie was right, this would probably be on the nightly news, as they usually walked out together, but he had to show Mellie he meant business. He would no longer cave to her, or Cyrus, or anyone else's whims.
Fitz continued down the stairs alone working to keep face of normalcy and not anger and frustration. About halfway through his descent Mellie appeared at the doorway. She waved and smiled, her ultimate poker face on. He turned to look back at her for a millisecond and continued to the bottom without her. Only when he reached the ground did he turn around. He glowered at her, but stiffly held his hand out for her.
They walked briskly across the tarmac to the limo which Cyrus and Linda were standing near.
Fitz squeezed the bridge of his nose. Whatever briefing they were about to give him could wait.
"Sir, are you alright?" asked Linda.
"I'm fine, but Mellie and I are going to need to ride alone."
Cyrus looked at him questioningly, but kept his inquires to himself.
"I'll brief you when we arrive."
Fitz and Mellie were left standing there, Mellie with a dumbfounded look on her face. Her last comment had made him angry. The last thing he would want was to be alone with her.
"Get in the car," seethed Fitz.
She got in. He climbed in after her.
"Do you know how insufferable you are, Mel? Because, I don't think you do."
"Not any more so than you," she sneered in defense.
"Fine. We make each other miserable. But I want a divorce. I'm serious this time. I've threatened it and asked for it before, but I cannot deal with you."
Mellie smoothed out her skirt and looked at him sweetly. "And not a few weeks ago I said I'd give you one. Remember all the terms I gave you."
Fitz looked out the window. The scenery blurred by. He learned forward and looked at Mellie with unforeseen intensity.
"Look, this is how this is going to go. We are getting a divorce. We'll announce our separation in a couple of months. We will be friendly -or at least seem so," he said under his breath, "you'll go out on the campaign trail with me and say how you still believe in me even through separation. We'll say the split is due to mutual differences. After the election we get officially divorced, win or lose."
"Why, in God's name, would I agree to that?" questioned Mellie incredulously, "You're going to win. The Democrat's top contender was Reston and now that he's severely lagging due to what was probably Olivia's team's stunt to get you guys out of hot water, they've got no clear front runner, " said Mellie, "This plan of yours basically insures you can dump me and ride off in the sunset with Olivia. I don't think so."
"They'll be stuff in it for you," he shrugged.
"Like what?" Snapped Mellie.
"You can't have our house in California, but you can keep the one in Colorado and the beach house. Hell, I'll buy you a house if that's what you want."
Mellie shook her head.
"I won't be appeased by houses, Fitz. I want what I said I wanted."
"I'm not giving you that. Your demands are ludicrous. Nothing I'd ever agree too and you know that. I can see right through you. You're trying to use them as bargaining chips to further yourself."
Mellie crossed her arms.
"Yeah, so what? You're the one with stuff to lose."
Fitz ran his hands through his hair.
"If you'd just listen to me. We can get divorced and not sink the proverbial ship. We can both come out with unscathed images."
"It's not possible, Fitz. I know you're ever the optimist, but it's not possible," cut Mellie harshly.
"I beg to differ."
Frustrated tears glistened in her eyes and contrasted her stone set face. "I'm First Lady, that's all I've got, Fitz," her voice wavered, "I gave up my career for all this, to be your picture perfect wife, to plan part parties, to be a pretty face. If we divorce I'll be damaged goods. The woman who didn't leave her husband soon enough when she knew he was cheating on her. So you know what, I may be the ice queen, and you may hate me, but I'm not going down without a fight."
"You could have more," said Fitz trying to convey his sincerity. He truly believed she could have more.
"No, I found my place in history and I'm going to hang on to it. Like it or not my place is next to you."
"You can have your own place."
Mellie gave him the evil eye.
"If we divorce. I'll support you. Whatever you do I'll support you. If you run for any office, I'll endorse you. You write a book, I'll praise your abilities. If you want to still be First Lady, I'll let you."
"What?" Mellie looked at him apprehensively, "why would you do all that?"
Fitz sighed, "Although sometimes my actions seem otherwise, I don't hate you. And if we can both succeed independently. We should."
Mellie blinked furiously, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Fitz moved from his seat across from her to sit next to her. He reached out to squeeze her tightly clasped hands.
She couldn't look at him.
"Think about it, okay?"
Mellie and Fitz rode the rest of the way in absolute silence. Only the slight thud of the tires rolling past the pavement echoed through the limo.
When they approached the facility for the conference, the partition rolled down
"Sir, we've arrived."
Mellie and Fitz quickly stuffed all their emotions away in a well practiced fashion and got out the car.
Cyrus approached them as they walked into a secured entrance of the World Water Conference.
"Sir, here are your revised notes. I want you to tread lightly about..."
At that moment, Cyrus noticed Mellie's unusual silence and slightly puffy eyes. He looked at Fitz. He was curious about what was going on. Things had more tense than usual between the two. He wondered if he was going to have to clean up some explosive fight they were bound to have.
It was five minutes to 8 o'clock and luckily, the senator had still not arrived. Olivia's stomach had been churning violently. She'd been fighting nausea since breakfast and now she was losing. Olivia gripped onto the mahogany office table with such force that her knuckles turned a sickly pale color.
Abby, concerned, turned to look at her. She'd noticed Olivia's discomfort right after breakfast, but it seemed to have intensified.
"Are you all right, Liv?"
Olivia calmly let go of the table and took a deep breath willing her tumultuously tumbling stomach to calm down.
"I think so. Stomach ache, that's all. I don't think the French toast you made me is agreeing with my digestive track," said Olivia attempting to deliver her last line to Abby with humor.
"Hey, don't make this about my cooking. You know that French toast is the best thing you've had to eat in a while," chided Abby with a smile.
Olivia attempted to grin back at her, but her grin slipped into a face of panic. She jumped out of her seat at the meeting table and darted across the office to the bathroom. All eyes were on her.
The door to the bathroom stall made a jarring noise as Olivia opened it with a force unknown to herself.
She dropped to her knees and wretched violently. The contents of her breakfast spilled into the porcelain toilet.
Olivia moaned in both discomfort and irritation, precariously leaned over. What a lousy day to be sick. Why couldn't she have been sick sometime in ten past few weeks when she wasn't really doing anything? On the first day officially "back"? Really?
Olivia's stomach tightened relentlessly and she wretched again. Vomit spilled into the toilet. She held her hair back as best as she could.
Coming back up for air, a foul taste settled in her mouth. She cringed.
Olivia could sense a worried Abby and Quinn behind her, watching her. She didn't need an audience for this.
She closed her eyes.
"Guys. I just... I'm okay now."
Even as she said the words, a feeling of panic invaded her senses. She wasn't going to be okay. She could suddenly hear her heart in her ears.
Abby stood frozen and then spoke.
"Hey, Quinn. Can you give Liv and I a second?
"Sure," she exited, but then called back "I'm going to make you a tea Olivia for when you come out, okay?"
"Okay," managed Olivia. Her voice was now harried on the verge of a whisper.
Abby held out a hand to help Olivia off the ground. Olivia stood bracing her back on the bathroom wall.
Abby looked Olivia dead in the eyes. "Liv, I think there's a chance that I'm going ask you something that you might not like."
Olivia had a good idea of what Abby was about to ask her. She was asking herself. She stared off the space willing it not to be. If Abby didn't say it, maybe it wouldn't be true.
"Do you think you could be... pregnant?"
Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but found herself unable to move a muscle. This couldn't be happening. Maybe this was a particularly ferocious nightmare.
She shut her eyes once again and slid down the wall she'd been leaning against. She tired to let the cool tile calm her for fear of passing out. Thoughts swirled in her head: Fitz. Camp David.
"Possibly"
"I mean pregnancy is always a possibility. But we're always so, so careful. I've never missed a day of birth control since I've been sexually active. My doctor said a potential side effect was not being able to get pregnant- ever."
Abby sat down next to her unsure of how to console her friend.
This can't. I can't...Fitz and I cannot have a baby. This isn't a fairy tale."
"Look, don't worry about it, yet. It's not for sure. I'm just bringing up a possibility. Maybe you're just feeling sick and it really just is my food?"said Abby.
Olivia laid her head in her hands.
"I've been feeling tired recently. I thought it was just the stress of everything, but..."
Wayward tears escaped from Olivia's eyes.
"I'm probably...What am I going to do?"
Abby looked her in the eye and gently nudged her with her shoulder. "I have no idea. But I do know that you'll figure it out because you're Olivia Pope, your name is on that door, and you'll never give up."
Olivia cocked her head in deep thought. Her earlier thoughts had cleared the minute Tiligan stepped in the office. She had returned to her element. She couldn't decide whether or not to believe him.
He said he was being blackmailed. Slow, but steady amounts of cash had been dripping out of his campaign funds. Some of which had been added to his own accounts and some of which had gone inexplicably missing.
"Some sick con has me set up. I can't go the authorities without implicating myself. So essentially, they can take as much money as they want."
"Actually, they can't. Eventually your finance manager will notice."
"Yeah, and see the money trail to my account. I've been a good senator. I do what's right for my constituents. I don't do any of that back door dealing that it's so easy to get pulled into."
"Look, I have no reason to take you on. You have a weak case. You could easily be lying."
"But I'm not,"
"How are you going to prove it to me besides claiming your a good guy? Everyone always claims that they are a so called "good guy".
"Are you going to take my case or not? It's not like you have people swarming to get help from your firm now," said Tiligan firmly.
Olivia didn't flinch.
"I'd worry about your own problems if I were you. But I'll take your case and not because I have to, but because I want to. I believe you. You took a verbal swing at me, so you must be desperate. It's a good thing, I specialize at swooping in to save the day when people are desperate. "
Olivia sat on her bed several hours later frozen in place as her timer chimed for the 8th time. She couldn't go back into the bathroom ever again. On her counter lay 2 pregnancy tests.
Olivia was beginning to regret declining Abby's offer to stay with her, because if Abby was here she could send her in to look at those vile sticks.
She slowly got up and walked in to the bathroom. Time slowed almost to a halt. She peeked at the counter.
Two little smiley faces greeted her gaze. They taunted her; their smiles growing wider every passing second.
She picked them up almost in disbelief. Pregnant. A little life was growing inside her.
Now what?
She hated to be cliché, but she slipped her shirt and bra over her head and looked at her naked body. She ran her hand gently across her abdomen. It didn't look like anything was there. No roundness, not even a slight pudge. No evidence at all.
Olivia slipped her hand on her breast and gave it a rough squeeze. No soreness either. She frowned.
The phone rang. Olivia slipped her shirt back on and walked in a trance to the ringing sound. She was already deep in thought. There was no way she could keep this baby. They'd be forever labeled President Grant's bastard. What an ugly word. A word that people rarely used anymore referring to children, a word kept hidden in the shadows. But a word she knew people would reserve especially for her child if she went through with the pregnancy.
The phone displayed a blocked number. It had to be Fitz or a desperate reporter still looking to exploit her. At the moment, both of those options seemed dreadful. A pit formed at the bottom of her stomach. She felt nauseous again.
She definitely would not be answering the phone.