Chapter 25

The feel-good wave of accomplishment that came to Fitz during the end of his conversation with Colleen Cassidy turned out to be strong enough to carry him through the phone conference call with General Ramos.

For that call, he needed to be downstairs in the Situation Room complex. He was reaching for his jacket when Lauren knocked on the door, announcing Cyrus' presence.

"Is it safe to come in, Mr. President?" Cyrus said.

"It is." Fitz grinned at him. "I won the bet."

"The bet?" Cyrus lifted a questioning eyebrow.

"Olivia and I bet on who would be the first to come knocking at the Oval Office door tonight. She thought it would be Tillman's lackey - and for once, the great Olivia Pope was wrong."

"Garner didn't make a play?" Cyrus said. "I didn't give the man that much credit. He's a man used to getting his way."

Fitz didn't answer but felt the rush of anger blow through him at just the mention of the other man's name. He knew Cyrus didn't care for Garner any more than he did - but he hadn't seen the way he looked at Olivia either. That his dislike went a little bit more to the personal side than the political Fitz didn't give a damn. All he knew was that the man had better not give him the slightest reason to slap him down.

He didn't care if the reason why was personal or political either.

Cyrus mistook the reason for the sudden predatory gleam in Fitz's eyes.

"Garner didn't make a play." Fitz shrugged away his thoughts about Garner and let some his recent good humor rise again. "And I wagered on Sally."

"And just what did our claimant to the holier-than-thou throne of the republican party have to say when she appeared?" Cyrus could barely rein in his sarcasm.

One look at the other man told Fitz that Cyrus was both frustrated and amused - mirroring his own reaction.

Fitz had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Sally was his vice president, after all - he did owe her a certain amount of respect in at least listening to what she had to say. Even if her opinion was sometimes a little too holier-than-thou ridiculous.

He did try. He also made the mistake of meeting Cyrus' eyes. Cyrus began to chuckle and that was more than enough invitation for Fitz to join in and a moment later they were both laughing out loud.

"Just what you'd expect - and just what I'd expected - she believes she has the right to guide my life according to her moral standards."

"That was no great revelation." Cyrus nodded, agreeing with him. "The nerve of that hypocrite. "I suppose that you have no intentions of following any of it?"

"Which I have no intentions of following any of it - ever." Fitz said, the humor dropping from his voice.

"Of course, Mr. President. The only person to set policy in any way shape or form in this administration is you." Always sensing Fitz's mood, Cyrus wisely changed the subject to one that he hoped would be more pleasing to Fitz. "I assume that everything went well with Ms. Cassidy?"

"That conversation went very well, Cy." Fitz was just as happy to change the subject as Cyrus was and the memory of their conversation was much more pleasing to discuss. "I think that we can count on her full support both short and long term."

Fitz glanced at his watch; noting that it was almost time for his last duty of the night.

"That, Mr. President, is music to my ears." Cyrus said as Fitz straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket as they headed for the door. Together they headed down to one of the lesser rooms of the Situation complex where a private communications set-up was waiting for Fitz's use, continuing the details of his conversation with Colleen Cassidy as they went, Cyrus approving them as they went.

Once they were in the small, private office, they took seats across from one another at the small table awaiting them, falling into silence as Fitz waited for the techs to make the call.

Cyrus remained quiet as Fitz greeted the South American general; he didn't doubt that the man had is own trusted aides close at hand. Fitz hoped that he had such people at his side. Cyrus - despite his faults - was one of a few people that he could trust to align himself with his political viewpoint.

Their conversation opened as well as could be expected; of course there were issues of trust on both sides - but Fitz reminded himself that the general had reached out to him first and that in itself spoke well about the other man's sincerity.

Despite his own party's cries to wring every concession they could from Ramos, Fitz wasn't prepared to do it. He would not take advantage of the man's supposedly weaker position by threatening to undermine it further.

And why? Most of the opposition in the party had not yet allowed themselves to see Fitz as the man he was, and those who did were wary of what it could mean. Fitz's presidency had already proved itself to not be business as usual agenda of the republican party and it made some of them uneasy.

Good, Fitz had thought with satisfaction. Those who had expected a younger version of his father had to have been very much disappointed- and that was exactly what he'd wanted from the time he'd decided to run for office. It was one more nail in the coffin of his father's control and ambition and that pleased Fitz more than words could ever say.

It had never been a part of his nature to take advantage of someone weaker in him. That was part rebellion against his father and his values, but on a deeper level, it was something that had been ingrained in him first from his mother - and secondly from the ethics his military service had drilled in and that had only reinforced the foundation she had laid down for him. Secondly - and in some ways, it was probably more important to Fitz - the cry for an aid to a dawning of democracy where it had been denied before beat too loudly in his blood. How could Fitz not respond to such a call?

This was a nuance of leadership that those outside the unique circle of power surrounding the presidency probably would never be able to understand. With that thought, something that his friend Jocelyn - the NSA Special Envoy and Advisor to the White House - had told him once came back to mind.

It was after he'd begun to discover the many layers that made up the woman who had begun as one of his advisers and ended as his friend and had been a part of the many conversations the two of them had had once the full extent of her personal influence had been revealed during the last White House crisis involving the hostages of Irasn.

"The presidency doesn't make the man -" she'd told him. Having served in the previous administration, he'd known that she'd spoken from experience. "It defines who and what the man already was."

Those words from the past drew Fitz back into the reality of the situation facing him here and now. The many reports generated by his intelligence agencies had drawn a portrait of the general that made Fitz cautiously optimistic about the possibilities that could happen - provided they found a way to work together.

He took heart from the fact that Ramos had agreed to Fitz setting the time of their conversation. The hours just after midnight would be what many might expect- and in that case those same people who might be tempted to attempt to break encryption protocols would discount it for the very same reasons - it was too obvious - and that made it perfect.

Fitz started off with something very like an apology for the slowness in which they - meaning the American government - were reacting to Ramos' offer. It was one of the issues he'd faced earlier this evening and as the petty, selfish and barely veiled xenophobic arguments replayed themselves in his mind, Fitz felt his frustration over it rising up all over again.

The general heard him - and understood very clearly what it was that Fitz was not saying. "I understand perfectly, Mr. President." General Ramos told him. "These are some of the difficulties in a democracy - and I welcome all of them. What is one of the sayings of your country - E plurubus unum? Out of the many, one? It's my hope to establish a fertile soil from which that same sentiment can take root, and not simply grow but flourish."

Fitz looked across the table at Cyrus, who nodded in silent approval.

"You'll find it a welcome burden." Fitz said before going on to assure him that as president, he will do all he can to offer whatever aid he could. In the beginning, in Fitz's mind this had mainly been was a strategic choice, now it became something more. Now it was personal in a way it hadn't been before. "And if you ever have any questions and need a neutral ear - at least as neutral as I can be in my position -"

Fitz offered his respect with the fact that he would not lie to him. " - I offer my services."

"In spite of your - difficulties?" the general asked quietly. A current of mingled amusement and a wise understanding ran as a steady undercurrent beneath his words.

"Exactly." Fitz said; and even though the other man couldn't see him, he smiled. "In spite of my difficulties." And maybe even because of them, he thought to himself with a grim satisfaction.

Once their boundaries had been established, their conversation moved on. Several ideas were offered and rejected, some were left on the table, while others were hammered out to agreement or agreed on both sides to wait for further negotiating at another time. To help resolve that and other issues, they agree to explore the possibility of exchanging unofficial emissaries. Fitz was sure that it was certain to lead to a more intimate understanding of one another's goals before they had actually had a chance to meet and he was pleased when the general agreed.

When their call was done, Fitz was left with the belief that both men had come to a better understanding of one another than they had when they begun. And that - Fitz thought - was the most important thing.

"That was well done, Mr. President." Cyrus told him once the call was ended. "Very well done, indeed."

"Thank you, Cy, but this was only the beginning" Fitz said. Even so, the praise warmed Fitz and reassured him that he was doing the right thing.

"If the general is smart, he'll accept whatever you offer him. The alternatives aren't nearly as pleasant as they might be."

"That will be up to him to decide." Fitz said. "But I think the general understands the risks and the challenges ahead of him."

They left the Situation Complex discussing the pros and cons of the evening until they were back in the West Wing. Once there, they shared a drink, then Fitz insisted on Cyrus going home and getting some sleep. Cyrus agreed reluctantly, but promised to have a report on his thoughts as soon as he was able.

"Get some rest, Cy. You've earned it." Fitz told him. "I don't want James mad at me because you have some kind of collapse."

"I don't want him mad at me for collapsing either, sir." Cyrus allowed himself a tiny smile. "And I recommend the same to you. I wouldn't want Olivia coming after me for the same reason."

Now that he was alone, Fitz hadn't realized how tired it had left him but it was a good tiredness, one that came with the immense satisfaction and pleasure of a job well done.

As he reached the Residence, he tugged at his tie and unloosed the top button of his shirt as he walked to his bedroom. A nice hot shower, he thought - then a quick change into something comfortable and then he'd call Olivia - it would be a perfect end to a mostly satisfying day. Suddenly, Fitz couldn't wait to hear her voice, to review the events of their day and dream about their tomorrows.

He opened the door to see that someone had thoughtfully lit the fireplace. They'd also dimmed the overhead lights, creating a cozy haven from his day, but before he'd taken more than a few steps into the room, his senses tell him that he's not alone.

A moment later, Fitz made out Olivia's slim form standing at one of the windows on the other side of the room, her back to him as she looked out the window.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise." Fitz said, his smile growing wider as he moved towards her. "Why didn't you have someone let me know that you were here?"

When she turned around to face him, his smile faded as he took in her expression and saw that something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.