Bang! Bang! {Part VI}
Fitz enters the examination room. Nurses rush around the cramped space positioning equipment, attaching monitors and hanging IV bags. Mellie's hair is wild, her face is flushed and sweaty; she screams in agony. She notices his arrival and desperately reaches out to him. He freezes. This is wrong…why is she not in the labor ward or in a birthing room?
"Fitz," she shrieks with her arms outstretched and her hands frantically opening and closing.
"Time to push Mrs. Grant," the doctor announces in a calm voice.
"Fitz," she shouts again.
Instinct kicks in and removes his jacket and unfastens his sleeves, "Okay…we know how to do this," he steps into his prescribed role. He takes her hand and fixes his eyes on the contraction monitor. "You scream as loud as you want because…" he waits for her to complete the familiar mantra.
"It is my right," she declares.
"It is your right-Go!" he shouts watching the spike on the CTG monitor.
Hours later
"Ma'am, the baby was delivered and there do not appear to be any complications…Gag order in effect," Tom discloses over the phone.
Back in the room Fitz stands with his arms folded grasping his elbows. "I would like to know what triggered early labor: maternal stress, fetal distress, undisclosed or undiscovered medical condition-do you know?" he turns to the doctor.
She stares wide-eyed with her mouth gaped open. Mellie watches silently praying her plan does not blow up in her face. The doctor composes herself, "Mr. President, the First Lady was here for her scheduled appointment and labor started. She was far enough along to safely deliver a healthy baby," she responds vaguely.
Fitz focuses on the linoleum under his feet connecting the dots of what was not said, "There was no natural reason for early labor?" he concludes. The doctor shakes her head quickly.
Looking at Mellie for the first time since his arrival, "If you were already here why did you request to transfer to another hospital?"
She stammers, "James Madison is the official White House hospital. The fine citizens of our country expect 'America's Baby' to be born there and receive the finest care."
"Doctor, will you excuse us please…we need the room," he request quietly. She nods and exits; relieved to escape the mounting, suffocating tension between the First Couple.
Once they are alone Mellie's heart races and her nerves begin to fray. I need to deflect…focus on my preferred outcome. "Isn't he beautiful…when should we release the official announcement and family photo…I think a family name would be nice," she prattles with faux sincerity.
"Enough…I am leaving with your medical records for independent review. Any discrepancy will result in you being stripped bare by the full force of the White House. This is your final chance to come clean and possible make a deal," he seethes.
Mellie is frozen; debating whether to call his bluff. Before she can consider her options or develop a counterattack; she recognizes his voice but he is not speaking to her.
"Abby, schedule a press conference…I am prepared to inform the American people that the former First Lady endangered the life of her child as a political stunt. Also, we will release my DNA request," his statements are cut off by her desperate interruption.
"Wait…stop! We can work this out," she pleads.
"Abby, brief Ms. Pope and wait for my next call," he disconnects abruptly.
"I don't know what you want me to say? I needed a way back in to set the stage for my political second act. Why can't we help each other? We can still be a team-right?" Mellie shrinks in fear at the level of hatred in his eyes.
"A political second act…" he goes silent trying to wrap his mind around her warped thinking.
"Yes…this child was conceived for political leverage…capital. You reaped the immediate benefits. Why shouldn't I?" she challenges.
He grimaces in pain. The guilt and remorse pumps thick through his veins. "You are right which is why that child deserves better. Here is the deal…my team will schedule an interview for you alone. You will share why after the assassination attempt you needed to re-evaluate the second half of your life. You will explain why you requested the amicable dissolution of our marriage to focus on being a mother and shielding the children from the current political bubble. You will return to your maiden name. In exchange I will not challenge paternity or expose your medical records that prove you induced labor," he dictates in an octave fueled by unbridled rage.
"Never…you and your whore do not deserve nor will I allow your happy ever after," Mellie rants.
"Fine…mutual destruction; I will start when I return," Fitz turns to exit.
Tears of frustration fall from her eyes, "Fine, she wipes her face, I will do the interview; but I want your endorsement and high profile campaign events when the time comes," she tries not to walk away empty handed.
"The most I am willing to do is release a written statement after the interview in support of your choice," he is resolved.
Six months later
With Mellie firmly in his rearview mirror Fitz bounds out of bed each day eager to serve the Republic with his Livvie by his side. Today was hectic but exhilarating. The White House team was leaving for the G20 Summit in France. His schedule was moving smoothly until he was called to the Situation Room. "What happened?" he address the room.
The military leaders stand at attention. "Skirmish along the border in West Angola," the General informs.
"How is that possible? The intelligence briefing have been quiet…this is coming out of nowhere," he searches their faces before taking a seat. Too many refuse eye contact as they return to their seats. The regular junior staffer in the corner sweats nervously.
Olivia enters the room and silently takes the available chair to his left. She reads the status report in front of her. Something is not right. She is drawn back to the discussion by Fitz's Commander-in-Chief tone filling the soundproof room.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, you have ninety minutes to prove that this intelligence of an escalation in activity is authentic and not the work of mercenaries or an outside government," he commands.
The sweating staffer's knee begins to bounce. Fitz and Liv glance at each other. He knows the truth.
Olivia decides to take the lead, "General, may I borrow Zyhir? I need some low level intelligence to follow up with a few members of the Senate," she charms.
"Can it wait? Given the President's order I need all available staff," he pushes back barely hiding his disdain.
"General, I have complete faith in your knowledge of the region. Surely you can manage for the next hour without a junior staffer," Fitz challenges.
The General's back stiff and his ego bristles, "Yes Sir…Zyhir, please assist the Chief of Staff," he directs before exiting the room.
The room clears quickly. "Young man…now is the time for patriots. Show me what you have and tell me what you know?" Fitz orders gently.
Zyhir fidgets but eventually stands and hands the President of the United States a confidential folder. "The pictures were not making any sense for the region. The precision of the attack reflected elite training and high-end military weapons. I sent my analysis up the chain of command, but somehow the determination was rebel forces," he explains as his entire body trembles.
"Liv, use your back-channel to help Zyhir verify and confirm his intelligence and keep him safe. We will develop a strategy on Air Force One tonight." He extends his hand to the young staffer, "Your country and your President owe you a debt of gratitude."
Zyhir returns the handshake standing taller, "Thank you for the opportunity to serve, Sir."
Days Later
After an exhausting flight and a grueling two days filled with meetings, events, translators and schedule hassles Olivia was prepared to crawl under the bed for some much needed, well deserved sleep. Tomorrow was a half day with light, bilateral meetings with natural allies. She sighed lying back against the bed only to be disturbed by a knock on her door. She groaned and trudged to the entry way. "This better be good," she announces with a huff swinging the door open. "Tom, how may I help you?"
He produces a garment bag, "Delivery from the President. Do not shoot the messenger but you have one hour to get ready," he states reluctantly.
"May I?" she asks. He nods and she unzips the bag and almost falls over. Her white, sleeveless sheath dress with the wide, black lace embellishment stares back at her. The memories of Inauguration Night flood her mind. Olivia's smile lights up her entire face and her cheeks blush a dusty rose. "Tell him make it 45 minutes." She gently takes the garment bag and retreats back into her hotel room.
Fitz waits impatiently in the lobby. He skips past his presidential blue suits he packed in favor of a Brooks Brother's single button, black suit; crisp white shirt and a lilac tie that make his blue eyes dazzle. This is how I dress for date night with my girlfriend. The bell rings from the bank of elevators as people spill out but the activity is all a blur until he sees her making her way to him like a dream come true.
Olivia gives him a slow, adoring appraisal from head to toe, "Am I on a date?"
"Very good Ms. Pope…you have amazing deductive skills," he flirts. "I decided to start with a group date…we are joining the First Couples of Australia and Canada for dinner…then we can see where the night takes us," he explains with a wide smile.
"We need to call Abby and give her a heads up…she needs time to develop a narrative," she carries on in 'fixer mode'.
"Livvie…stop. She is ready…how do you think I got the dress," he stares with loving eyes.
"I am not sure what to do?" she admits slightly embarrassed.
Fitz offers his arm, "Easy…be the girlfriend of the Leader of the Free World," he laughs.
Olivia joins in, "Oh, is that all…simple enough."
They exit the lobby to the waiting motorcade. The pool of reporters and photographers go wild once they notice Olivia's small hand tucked securely at his elbow and his hand that travels to the small of her back to help her into the Presidential limousine.
Several hours later
Fitz and Olivia casually stroll through the streets of Paris past the Eiffel Tower holding hands. "This has to be the most perfect, magical first dates. You are still more than I ever dreamed," she shares her heart without shame.
He stops and turns his gaze to hear beautiful face graced by the light of the Tower. For the first time in public she is available, vulnerable and without a shadow of a doubt in love with him. "Are you ready for the frenzy waiting on the other side of the ocean?" he asks as his heart races ever so slightly.
"Bring it," she responds defiantly.
He throws his head back laughing before leaning forward and placing a sensual kiss to her neck that leaves her breathless.
