Chapter Three – The Loneliest Moment
Somehow, Fitz managed to stride back to the Oval. As he walked past Mrs Hanley's desk he paused and said, "Clear my schedule for the next 30 minutes. I don't want to be disturbed."
"Of course, Sir. You remember you're seeing the Secretary of State at One today. It's been flagged. Then the Argentinian cultural attaché has ten minutes with you at three, before your meeting with the Senate committee." Mrs Hanley said.
"Right. Thank you." Fitz strode into the Oval and directly out the opposite door, heading for his private study. He shut the door behind him and sat in his chair, putting his head in his hands. Right now, he felt like the biggest piece of shit in America. She didn't deserve that. He'd only planned to keep his distance, but then Mellie had shown up and decided she was in the mood to play the doting wife. He hadn't wanted her to know that anything was up so he'd gone along with it. But he hadn't reckoned on how he'd feel under Olivia's eyes.
Well, he felt terrible.
He hated to think that somewhere in the white House, Olivia Pope was crying and hurt because of him.
This, this didn't feel right. He had to see her, had to explain. What he wanted to do was walk out of here, right now and find her and tell her that he loved her before taking her up to his bed to show her exactly how much he loved her. But he couldn't. He was the most powerful man in the world, but he couldn't even go to check if the girl he liked was alright.
There was a knock at his door.
"Yes!" A sustained bass note of irritation, he knew he'd be lucky to get a full half hour, but he'd hoped for more than 5 minutes.
The door opened.
"Sorry to interrupt you, Sir. But they need you in the Situation Room," Cyrus said.
"Let's go," Fitz said, striding out past Cyrus, he walked away without looking back.
xXx
"Great job, everyone," Lauren could afford to be generous with her praise now that the meeting was over. "You can spend the rest of today fact checking the Medicare numbers for the ways and means committee on Monday. If you get that done go see Tina, she's always got filing that needs to be done. Got it?" Lauren didn't even wait for a response before bustling off to her next meeting.
Without saying a word to draw attention to herself, Olivia slipped quietly out the door and went to the bathroom. She locked herself in the stall furthest from the door and closed the lid of the toilet before sitting down. She leaned her head on the wall and tried to calm her breathing, her eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop the tears from falling. Involuntary sobs wracking her small frame.
"Olivia?" Huck's voice sounded out from the bathroom doorway. "Olivia?" He called again.
Olivia pressed her hands to her cheeks to blot away her tears and tried to calm her breathing, but a sob broke free and Huck was knocking on the door.
"You can't cry here, Olivia. You can't let people see you crying here."
Another muffled sob broke free.
"You can do this. Just get through the day. You can do this." Huck always seemed to know what she needed to hear.
She unlocked the door and came out.
"I just need a minute," Olivia gestured to her reflection.
"I'll be in the mess, I'll get you a coffee." Huck walked out.
Olivia met her own gaze in the mirror. She splashed some cold water on her face and removed the smudges from beneath her eyes. How could she still look like that same girl who had arrived here two months ago? How could the changes wrought upon her soul not be written on her skin and in her eyes?
But there was nothing.
No trace of the love she felt.
Just smudged mascara.
xXx
Fitz sat in the Sit. Room, Cyrus on his right looking at satellite images of the South China Seas while General McAnderson briefed him and Cyrus on the escalating situation there. The Navy intel was that China was undertaking anti-air military exercises, the Chinese response was that these were standard military drills, but McAnderson was concerned it was a show of strength in response to the recent American deployment of three B-52s to challenge Chinese sovereignty of international air space over the South China Sea.
Fitz sat and let it wash over him, he knew Cyrus was lapping it up.
Cyrus lived for this stuff.
He couldn't go on like this. This decision he'd made, to stay away from Olivia. It wasn't working, for either of them.
It was time to accept the truth.
He couldn't stay away from her.
And he wasn't going to anymore. He'd been an idiot. He was an idiot. Here he was, the President of the United States of America, daydreaming about the girl he loved when he should be making informed decisions about US Naval movements.
What am I doing? Fitz asked himself. Olivia was in pieces, he was distracted and so, so tired of pretending that he didn't need her.
Fuck it.
Because, really, he just wanted to have Olivia. Just wanted her, on an elemental level and he didn't have the energy to fight the impulse again.
By the time the briefing was over, Fitz knew exactly two things: one, there was some sort of problem in the South China Sea and two, he desperately needed to see Olivia Pope.
xXx
"Mrs Hanley, could you send in Tom and Hal please?"
"Yes, Sir," immediately, even before Mrs Hanley could relay the message they went in. They'd heard the request themselves.
"Is everything alright, Sir?" Tom asked as they entered the Oval.
"Fine, Tom. I, well, the reason I wanted to speak to you is," Fitz paused. He suddenly felt awkward. He stood up and walked around his desk.
"Tom, Hal. You've been with me a long time. You know me pretty well, I think. What I am about to tell you doesn't leave this room." Fitz looked Tom in the eyes, then Hal.
"Yes?" he demanded.
"You can tell us anything, Sir. We make reports to our superiors, but we can use our discretion." Tom said, looking at Hal, who nodded his agreement.
"Ok." A pause.
"Ok." Another pause.
Why was this so hard?
"So." Fitz began again.
Hal shifted uncomfortably.
"Here it is."
Christ, Fitz. Get it together.
"There's this girl."
Tom schooled his features not to betray the shock he felt at hearing this. He never would have expected Fitz to need to have this conversation.
Hal's jaw hung open.
"There's this girl, and I – nothing's happened. Not really. Not yet. But I need to do this in a way that doesn't leave her vulnerable to any sort of character assassination. I don't want her ending up like that Monica girl just because of who I am." Fitz looked at them both. "I just…she's important to me, alright? She's going to be spending some time with me in the residence, when the First Lady's not here. Now, tell me, how is this going to go down?"
Tom looked over at Hal. "There are certain measures we could take, Sir. There are things we could do to ensure this girl can spend some time with you in the White House." He looked over at Hal, who nodded.
"The first step would be to get a couple of disposable cell phones so you don't need to use the official channels to contact her."
"OK, can you organise that for me?"
"Yessir, Mr President."
"One last thing. I need to see her, tonight. I need you to bring her here before she leaves for the day."
"Yessir, Mr President."
Fitz felt almost dizzy with the anticipation of seeing her.
xXx
The remainder of Olivia's day passed in a haze of loss. The initial burn of President Grant's indifference easing into an acute sense of melancholy. She smiled and nodded, worked on the statistics for Medicare while Huck's mantra played over and over in her head.
Just get through the day. Just get through the day. Just get through the day.
And now it was late. The uplighters on the wall cast a rich orange light that didn't quite chase the shadows from the corners of the room. Olivia was exhausted. This application didn't even have to be finished until next Friday, but she didn't want to go home yet and she needed to something to do. She was polishing up her personal essay assuming that her experience next week in Comms wouldn't change her mind.
She looked at her watch, 8.52pm. It was getting late. If she left now she could catch the 9.15 Metro and be asleep by 11pm. God, she was an idiot, why had she stayed so late? She was never going to see him again. He'd made that very clear to her this morning.
She gathered up her things and made her way out of the White House. She swiped her card. The guard on duty looked at his monitor.
"Can you wait here one moment, ma'am?" He picked up his phone. "Sir, I have a hold on Pass 619. Yes," He looked at Olivia and frowned slightly. "Understood, Sir." He hung up the phone. "Please move to the side, ma'am."
To Olivia this was simply the last straw.
"What! Why? I need to go, I'm going to miss my train!" Olivia could feel the tears building again behind her eyes. She'd had the most awful day and now this…It was just too much.
"I just want to go home, please," Olivia appealed to the guard.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. You need to just wait here for a moment. Someone's on their way down now to sort this out." The guard moved back to his desk.
Olivia stood to the side and looked down at the floor, trying to hide the falling tears. This was just unbearable.
A pair of polished black Oxfords appeared in her field of vision. She brushed the tears from her face and looked up to see a clean-cut man in his late 40's wearing a dark suit. There was a curly wire travelling from his ear to his collar.
Secret Service.
"Come this way please, ma'am," he motioned for Olivia to follow him.
"Where are we going?"
"I'm not at liberty to say."
"Is there a problem?" Olivia could hear the panic in her voice.
"I'm not at liberty to say."
I'm getting thrown off the programme.
They've revoked my pass.
He must have decided he doesn't want me in the building.
She didn't notice Jake Ballard's standing in the exit. She didn't see him watching as she was escorted back into the West Wing.
To him.
Mrs Hanley's desk was empty.
"He's expecting you, Miss Pope." The agent nodded at the door.
Olivia turned the handle and went inside.
xXx
Fitz was sitting behind his desk waiting for her, looking out of the window. He heard the swish of the door against the plush pile of the carpet and the latch clicking closed.
He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes.
She's here. He could feel her.
He swivelled his chair and saw Olivia stood by the door, looking down at the ground. He stood up.
"I'm so glad you're here," he took a few steps towards her but stopped when he saw her flinch back, her small hands clutching her bag in front of her.
"Olivia I," he paused, "will you look at me? Please."
Olivia's big brown eyes swept up to see him.
Fitz felt like he was drowning in a sea of Olivia. All he could see was her soulful eyes reflecting back the agonies he'd been suffering this week ten-fold.
Oh, sweetheart.
He walked to the drinks tray and fixed them both a Scotch. He walked over to her, "You look like you need a drink." He handed her the smaller of the two.
Olivia shook her head, her eyes looking at him with suspicion.
"No, thank you. I actually need to leave. I'm going to miss my train. In fact, thanks to your goons I probably already have." Olivia felt suddenly angry.
After everything he'd put her through this week, how dare he summon her!
"Please, Olivia. We need to talk." Fitz said, gently persuasive.
Olivia snorted and turned around as if to leave.
"Sit down, Olivia!" Fitz was panicking that she'd leave and he'd never have a chance to explain.
To Olivia it seemed as though, on top of everything else, he was shouting at her.
She kept her eyes on him as they began to well up. She took the proffered drink then walked to the couch to sit down. She sat, perched on the edge. Determined not to get comfortable, she took a sip. The alcohol burning its way down into her empty stomach making her feel warm and drowsy. When had she last eaten?
"Olivia, I owe you an explanation for my behaviour this week." Fitz began. "I've, well, I thought that I. What I mean to say is -" He paused, unable to continue in the face of her reproachful eyes. He shook his head and took a gulp of his Scotch.
"Goddammit," he murmured into his drink.
He just couldn't think straight around her. He could feel his already limited resolve evaporating. He'd only wanted to check she was alright after earlier on.
"The truth is Olivia, I realised how selfish I was being. You deserve so much more than this. I thought that I was doing the right thing for you, for both of us. But, if the past week has shown me anything it's that I wasn't lying when I said that I couldn't stop seeing you."
Olivia looked at him incredulously, "I don't understand. You've stayed away this week for my own good –" she began, indignant.
"You need to know the truth." Fitz interrupted. "Whatever this is," he said, gesturing to the space between them, "it's dangerous." He edged closer to her, "This is a very dangerous game to play." He leaned into her and whispered in her ear, "For both of us."
Olivia let out a shaky breath as a tingle of electricity rippled around her neck.
Fitz ghosted his lips over Olivia's cheek and mouth before adding, "I really should know better than to let you get involved with me." He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. "You deserve more than a life in the shadows." He put his drink down on the table before taking Olivia's and doing the same.
"Do I?" Olivia whispered, closing her eyes.
"Do you feel it too?"
"Yes," Olivia was breathing heavily, almost panting with anticipation.
"I can't stop thinking about you, about how I feel when I'm with you. I can't stop thinking about you," Fitz was beginning to lose it.
"I've missed you. You can't just leave me like that, you can't just disappear. I need you," the words tumbled from Olivia. The release she felt, finally telling him, was immeasurable.
"God, I need you too," Fitz's filter was just gone, torn to shreds in the heat of his lust. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth.
"I'm right here," Olivia groaned.
"Just tell me to stop. Tell me to stop and I won't bother you anymore. You can go on with your life, forget about me and us" Was he warning her or asking her? He didn't know.
Oliva exhaled a shaky breath.
"Tell me to stop," Fitz was so close to losing his mind, he wasn't thinking straight.
"Tell me to stop," Pleading now, he gazed at her with lust-filled eyes.
"We can't stop," Olivia whispered, brushing her lips over his.
We can't stop.
It was all he needed to hear.
He groaned, low and guttural.
He kissed her, harder than she had been expecting.
"Mmmm," Olivia moaned softly.
Fitz kissed her harder still, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Her tongue met his in a delicious tangle. Fitz couldn't help himself, he stroked up her thigh, over her hip and up her waist. He cupped her breast and grasped, reaching for the feel of her skin in his hand. Like a man possessed he pulled at the neckline of her dress, frustrated at his inability to touch her skin. He was leaning over her now, pressing her back on the couch. His hand moved down and began to run under her skirt, up her thigh.
Fitz pulled back, his eyes hooded and dark, panting.
"God, I want you," Fitz rubbed the top of her thigh and passed his thumb over her panties.
Olivia let out a low moan and closed her eyes. She'd never felt so aroused in her life. She couldn't think straight. She was just a bundle of sensations, his lips on hers, his hands, his scent. The feel of his body pressing into hers. She couldn't think straight. She didn't want him to ever stop.
There was a knock at the door.
Fitz's head swung round to look at the door.
Fuck!
He stood up, his erection straining the front of his pants and motioned to Olivia to do the same.
Another knock.
"Mr President, your guard dog won't let me in, Sir," Cyrus hissed through the door.
Tom! Thank God!
Silently, Fitz pulled Olivia up and pulled her across the Oval. He pointed to the door to his private study.
Olivia nodded and slipped through shutting the door as quietly as she could. The two Marines on duty on the other side didn't react as she went to sit on the couch in there.
"Mr President?" Cyrus was starting to get really pissed off now. He didn't appreciate being held at arms-length like this. He was the Chief of Staff. He wasn't someone who was made to wait outside! He was supposed to be inside the bubble.
Fitz grabbed the two glasses on the side table and walked over to his desk. He quietly slid open the bottom draw, put her glass inside and closed it again.
He sat in his chair and picked up a manila folder from his inbox and opened it up.
"Come in!" he shouted.
Cyrus entered the Oval to see Fitz reading at his desk, Scotch on the table. Fitz always had liked a drink.
"Sir, the situation in the South China Seas has escalated. You're needed in the Sit. Room." Cyrus always tried for nonchalant but now, as ever, just failed to mask his excitement. There was an urgent, needy quality to his tone. He turned and began to walk back to the door, assuming Fitz was following behind.
"Ok, you go ahead," Fitz turned the page he was reading, "I'll be there in a minute."
Cyrus did a slow double take, his mouth opening and closing silently, scratching his head.
Like a Goddamn halibut, Fitz thought to himself.
"I'm sorry, Mr President. You must have mis-heard me. You are needed, urgently, in the Situation Room to deal with an escalating international incident. There isn't anything else more important. Sir." Cyrus' voice shouting the Sir, his always fragile veneer of calm worn away by having to explain something so self-evident yet again.
Fitz was so sick of Cyrus behaving like he was an idiot. As if he was mentally superior because Fitz was good looking and tall and therefore stupid.
He was such an asshole.
Fitz put down the folder and looked at Cyrus. "I am the Commander in Chief and I will be there in a minute. Please, don't let me keep you." He said in an utterly neutral tone. He picked the dossier back up.
Cyrus huffed out of the room in a cloud of impotent rage.
Fitz waited until the door was completely shut before standing up and walking straight to his study.
Olivia sat on his chair with her hands holding the top of her bag on her lap, touching as little as possible. Fitz noticed that her feet didn't touch the floor. She jumped up when she saw him walk in.
"I'm so sorry, Olivia. There's something that I need to deal with. I'll have an agent take you home."
Olivia let out a small puff of air and gathered herself up to walk to the door, "I understand. Thank you, Sir."
He was brushing her off again.
He'd come back to his senses.
She'd blown it, he'd realised his mistake and he was sending her home.
Fitz watched her retreat into herself in front of his eyes. He had to make her understand that he'd stay with her if he could.
"Olivia, sweetheart." He took a step towards her. "If it were up to me I'd spend the night with you," Fitz began.
Olivia felt an unfamiliar heat pooling in her stomach, felt herself flush red.
He saw he'd embarrassed her. "I mean, not spend the night, just I'd rather stay with you but I can't. I can't tell you why. It's, uh, well it's a matter of National Security. Can I see you again? Tomorrow?" He asked, suddenly less sure of himself.
Olivia couldn't help herself, a huge smile broke out across her face. She nodded, not trusting herself enough to speak.
"Tom's going to organise for you to be taken home. Goodnight, Olivia." He pulled her into him and kissed her hair before walking away.
"Goodnight, Mr President."
She sat down and waited to find out how she was going to get home.
xXx
Later that night, Olivia lay in her bed and imagined Fitz's solid presence on her back. She imagined his breath on her neck, his arms wrapped around her and fell asleep with his voice in her ear.
xXx
Olivia was sat next to the window on a coach. Abbey was next to her, animatedly talking to Quinn who was opposite the aisle. She turned and watched her reflection in the glass as it rolled over the streets of DC. Her last day working in the Chief of Staff's office. She'd miss it, she thought to herself. She'd enjoyed the work. She'd enjoyed working on the Chinese personnel files. She'd enjoyed meeting the President. She'd enjoyed kissing him. She'd enjoyed feeling his hand running up her skirt. Olivia shook her head, shaking off the inappropriate thoughts that had been plaguing her every waking moment.
What was happening to her?
Was tonight the night?
Along with the other interns, Lauren and Mark and various other staffers she was going to hear President Grant give a speech to launch his new Education initiative. As a reward for their hard work, and as it was their last day before their Comms rotation, Lauren had arranged for them to attend tonight's reception. But first, they were headed to a high school to hear the President outline his vision to reform Higher Education funding. Lauren had briefed them before they left. They were planning to help students from low income families who wanted to go to college by providing a mean-tested grant to the poorest students. The money was going to come from a tax banding that added a 2% hike on to the richest 2% in the country. Olivia could see the irony of it, this initiative would have covered 50% of her fees. She was going to owe around $50,000 by the time she graduated. That wasn't even counting her credit card. The other interns all came from money, she could smell it on them.
Even if they thought they didn't, they did.
Olivia thought about her Mom, raising her in that tiny house in West Baltimore. How hard it had been, how she'd been cold and hungry more often than she could count. How tired her Mom was, all the time. This kind of opportunity would have been amazing. Olivia could have sent the extra money home to help out instead of having to pay it back off her debts. and the other interns were travelling in a mini bus with Lauren and Mark to the school where he was going to launch it.
"President Grant is such a rock star. I remember seeing him during the primary debates, when he was up against that idiot, what was his name?" Harrison asked the group.'
"Um, was it Bob Fletcher?" Quinn asked.
"Nah, it was after he'd dropped out, it was that other guy. The one with the hair," Huck chimed in.
"David Johnson," Jake supplied.
"Yes, David Johnson!" Harrison slapped his hands together. Grant completely eviscerated the guy. Made him look like a total moron. One of the best things I've ever seen on TV." Harrison laughed to himself.
Olivia sat, looking out the window at the rear of the Presidential motorcade. Behind a procession of armoured cars, agents and guns was the man she loved. What she wouldn't give to be sat beside him right now.
Tonight.
She tingled all over when she imagined seeing him later. Would he kiss her? Would he press his hard body into hers? Would he slip his hands up her dress again? She crossed her legs tightly, acutely aware of the heavy pulsing between her legs. Would he ask her to stay? Would she finally be his?
At the venue they slipped in the back and stood against the wall. Olivia found herself standing next the wall with Jake on her left.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!"
The audience stood up as the band started to play Hail to the Chief.
And there he was, walking onto stage. He waved to the audience, smiling, before taking his place at the podium.
He took a moment to look around the room and began. Fitzgerald Grant was no slouch but he wasn't a serious academic. When it came to oratory, however, he was world class. A smooth, liquid baritone of eloquent rhetoric poured out over the crowd, who lapped it up. Olivia watched, spellbound. It felt like he was speaking directly to her. Jake nudged her with his elbow. Olivia ignored him.
Jake turned slightly to whisper into her ear, "He's really something, isn't he?"
"Shhh," Olivia mouthed to him.
Fitz spotted her just as she did and watched as the man next to her leant towards her and whispered into her ear, his hand resting on her waist as he did. He felt a surge of pure white-hot loathing for the guy. He paused a beat, staring daggers at Jake Ballard, before continuing with his speech.
Cyrus, stood to the side, narrowed his eyes at Fitz and looked out at the crowd.
What the hell was that?
But all he could see was the crowd applauding while the president waved.
xXx
Cyrus Beene was no-one's fool.
He had known Fitz for years, since his first campaign for Governor, back in '95. He'd had a front row seat to the total collapse of his marriage. Seen Mellie's affairs first hand.
But this was something new.
Through all of that he'd always been on the inside.
But now, something was different.
Fitz was different somehow.
He'd been edgy all week, longer if Cyrus thought about it. He'd glitched on stage while he'd been giving his speech. And he'd been MIA in the Sit Room earlier on.
It wasn't like him.
Which meant that something was happening with him, but he wasn't talking to Cyrus about it.
And if Fitz wasn't talking to him, that meant something was happening that he didn't want Cyrus to know about. Which meant it was something Cyrus needed to know about. There was more at stake here than policy and governance. Fitz couldn't be allowed to adversely affect the legacy he had worked so hard to create.
While Cyrus ruminated on this he walked from his office to the Oval.
"Is he in?" he asked Mrs Hanley.
"Yes, Sir. I'll just see if he's available," Mrs Hanley picked up the phone. "Mr Beene, Sir." She put down the handset. "You can go in now, Sir," Mrs Hanley passed on.
Cyrus simply nodded, annoyed that she'd felt the need to check.
"What can I do for you, Cyrus?" boomed Fitz at once conveying his acknowledgement of their necessary professional relationship and his utter contempt for the man.
"Mr President," Cyrus replied. "How are you this evening, Sir?
Fitz didn't look up from the dossier he was reading.
Cyrus stood there in front of the Resolute Desk, waiting for the president to acknowledge what he had said. "You seem well," Cyrus went on beginning to look around the room, exasperated by the total lack of propriety and respect afforded to him by this young whelp. This nobody, that he had raised from nothing.
Fitz continued to read.
Cyrus wanted to scream.
The thing was, the thing was, he was a patriot.
He would lay down his life for Fitzgerald Grant, the President of the United States. But Fitz the man? Well, Cyrus wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire.
He'd had every opportunity in life handed to him. Looks, money, power. And he was just so Goddamned ungrateful for all of it.
He was just another pretty boy when Cyrus had taken that raw potential and moulded it into something he could sell to the American people. His life's work was sitting behind the Resolute desk in the Oval Office and he wouldn't even pay him the courtesy of looking at him!
Cyrus was so adept of masking his rage that while these thoughts were burning through his mind he only stood patiently waiting with a benign smile on his face while Fitz finished reading. The only clue to how he was feeling was the small veins jumping around his eyes.
"I'm great Cy. How about you?"
Fitz looked up from the document he was reading at last.
"You're looking at little tired," he added.
Fitz knew he was wrong to bait Cyrus but the man just took himself so seriously.
For a split-second Cyrus looked positively apoplectic but his features settled into a benign smile.
"Well, one of the perks of the job, Mr President," Cyrus quipped, looking around the room to avoid eye contact. "And the first lady? How did her fundraiser go?" Cyrus knew as well as Fitz what Mellie's fundraiser was a cover for. One of their unspoken agreements over the years was that they never, ever alluded to Mellie's extra-curricular activities.
"Well, Cy," Fitz knew that Cyrus hated to be called Cy, "I really wouldn't know. You'd be better off asking Andrew or William or whoever it is she's sleeping with these days. I'm sure they'd be able to fill you in on all the details of it much better than me."
"Sir?" Cyrus felt something leaden lodge in his stomach. Something had to be very, very wrong if Fitz was openly talking about Mellie's ongoing adultery.
"If you want to know how Mellie is," Fitz clarified, "you should ask her. I wouldn't know. I haven't spoken to her in weeks."
"Mr President?" Cyrus could feel the wheels falling off his well-oiled machine.
"We'll have to pick this little chat up another time, Cyrus," Fitz got up and walked Cyrus to the door.
Cyrus was outside the Oval before he knew what had happened to him.
"Mother of God," Cyrus said to himself quietly.
Something was rotten in the state of DC, and Cyrus was going to find out what it was.
xXx
A/N: So, a late post, sorry about that. Reviews are gratefully received. Next chapter will be sexy times, pinky promise.
dark, x.
