Author´s note: Thanks again for the likes and reviews old and new.
ShaunV76: Aw, I always like to hear that my writing evokes emotions. :) Hope you´ll keep enjoying it.
LoreneMichelle41: Love your analysis there and I absolutely agree. He´s acid for her right now, manipulative on a subtle yet very dangerous level.
Aunt Dee94: Thank you for your feedback:
The guest reviewers: I stated at the beginning of the last chapter already that this is going to be an Olitz centred story, but that since I started off right after the end of season two, Jake is necessarily in the picture right now. I appreciate feedback, I do not appreciate pressure. I´m an Olitz fan myself and this IS an Olitz story, but while I appreciate reviews very much, telling me your reading depends on me getting rid of Jake I can just say: read it or don´t, it´s up to you. However, I hope you´ll stay put, but please leave such decisions to me. Thanks.
Chapter 5 - Confrontations
Shortly before:
„The intelligence reports we receive from the Bagdhad area are disquieting to say the least. According to what the Iraquis tell us, the situation may be more urgent in the city´s vicinity. There have been reports of ISIS activity in the north east along the Diyala river, there are some that report camps and we should not take these reports lightly, Mr President."
"What about our own sources? I sure hope Iraqi intelligence isn´t the only factor I´m supposed to base my judgement on."
If the slightly biting tone of his Commander in Chief annoyed or irritated him, the man across him on the other side of the table didn´t move a muscle. "Our own channels are even more clear on this, Sir." He responded in the same calm yet authoritarian tone. "Clear activities in the north, but if we paint a worst case scenario, there is the obvious threat of the city being closed in all too soon, because there is movement in other directions as well. They´re not exactly hiding what they´re doing right now."
Fitz leant back, briefly casting his eyes across the roundabout a dozen pair of eyes that were focused on him across the situation room. He felt exhausted. With everything. Having to attend to an issue as vital to national security as this did not help elevate that state.
"What is your suggested plan of action at this point Mr Chairman?"
"We have detailed plans of their activities, Sir." The man with the salt and pepper hair and a chest full of badges leant forward and gave a motion with his head which made an aide change the projection on the wall to a shot taken by an unmanned drone – the area around Baghdad, then a zoom in. "Our intelligence did an excellent job. We know where their heads are or at least we have very good guesses on the top two. One clean, swift air strike and we can make them stumble in their momentum in a way that might very well help us get control of the situation and support the Iraqui government in their attempts to push back against ISIS, as we already agreed." The last few words sounded slightly annoyed or was he just imagining it?
Fitz raised his eyebrows. "I believe that I am not the only one in this room not instantly comfortable with this idea." he said. "How can we make sure the information we have is evidence enough? Can we be certain the locations we believe to be crucial are no ruse or false track?"
A small pause while the other man almost pursed his lips in irritation. "We are as safe as we can be, Mr President. This plan of action was developed based on the meeting in this very room at 1700 yesterday."
It was a rebuke, as obvious as it could get, as much as this high ranking military dared and he could tell there was a feelable tension in the air. All of a sudden it annoyed him in a way that didn´t seem rational.
"Tell me again why getting involved in this mess is a good idea." he said after a moment´s consideration. Again, he could tell from his own tone that he was not as level headed as he should be when in this room and caught a few glances being exchanged. Probably that sort of resistance had not been expected by his Joint Chiefs of Staff.
"With all due respect Mr President, I thought we had agreed on the necessity of our involvement. There are a range of limited military option that we can choose from right now, but it´s hard to tell how long these windows will still be open to us. We should not wait too long."
"What about our connections to the Iraquis? How quickly can we make the call?"
"The question is, Mr President, to what extent we involve the local authorities in the final steps of this. We do now know their channels well enough, communicating our strategies at length might limit our chances for success."
"You are saying I should order an air strike without informing them?"
"I am saying there have been communications, there has been a call, Mr President in which you personally informed the Iraqi president of the possibility of our stepping in. To which the Iraquis agreed, which they even welcomed." Sometimes Fitz wondered to what extent his mere title protected him from this man´s anger. "And that phone call was hard to get. I am not willing to jeopardize the ground we made in this fragile alliance."
"With all due respect, Sir, they are the receiving end of this alliance, they need us, not we them." Fitz did notice the very subtle change from his title to "Sir" that the other man no doubt used as a slight, childish form of expressing his annoyance. He ignored it and straightened up. "I want a phone call set up with the Iraqui president," he said. "and until then the options of an airstrike will be put on hold."
The chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff relaxed visibly in his seat at first but his eyes remained alert, before he tensed up again. "We could strike tonight." he said urgently. "The U.S.S. George H. Bush is still on its location. We could strike on their camp north of Baghdad and another south of it a little further off. No risk of American casualty, no boots on the ground necessary. With all due respect, it´s usually the democrats´ job to be timid and indecisive on such urgent matters."
Everyone in the room knew that just then, exactly these words meant the general had overstepped a line and it became more obvious when Fitz rose to his feet, propping his palms on the smooth surface of the conference table, leaning forward ever so slightly. He was mad at himself for it, knowing that what he was doing right now was very close to a primitive gesture of intimidation. "There is a difference between consideration and overly quick calls, general." he said, likewise downgrading the other man to his more inofficial title. "There is a difference between military effectiveness and lightly risking lives."
Suddenly the room had fallen silent, silent enough for people to hear a pin drop and for a moment, the other man just stared back, then he rose himself. "There is also a difference between matters personal and professional." he said, his voice a menacing tone that Fitz knew had his secret service agents on alert and several of his advisorss in the room hold their breath. He could feel a sudden rush of adrenaline. "A sudden deviation from an already settled plan is exactly what would make us look weak, Sir." The last word almost sounded insulting.
"This is professional." Fitz replied, his tone flat, almost acid. "if you´re suggesting it is not I would urge you to stop this discussion right now."
"I am merely suggesting, Mr President, that your judgment might be clouded. And we know the reason why."
He slammed his hand flat on the table, feeling in a right mind to punch the other man right in the face. How dare he? How dare he bring up personal matter like that? It was obvious what the general was implying. That he was not fit to decide on matters like this while he was still grieving over his son. That he was supposed to just work in line of what his Joint Chiefs deemed best because he himself was handicapped that way right now. "Cyrus." he bellowed, shooting the general a last look that would make most people shrink into intimidation. "Set up that goddamn call."
He could hear murmurs erupt from the table as they rose as one, irritated, bewildered as their Commander in Chief left the room, his advisors and agents in tow. Cyrus followed him, obviously distressed.
"Mr President…"
"Not now, Cyrus. Get me the Iraqui president on line."
"Sir… I do not think that right now."
He stopped and turned. "Cyrus…"
Cyrus glanced around, gave the advisors a nod and his people hurried along, obviously relieved to be allowed to escape the situation while Cyrus walked on for a few paces and then turned right, opening a door. There was no office behind it, just an administrational room, storage. Pipes for the AC and security systems. How fitting that his Chief of Staff found it so necessary to isolate him from other people that he´d just take the next room possible.
He closed the door with a bang.
"That was unnecessary."
Fitz whirled around. "He was attacking me personally, Cyrus and this was completely out of line."
"That´s not what I mean." the other man gave back. "You know what I mean."
Fitz felt like pacing, adrenaline and pulse still high. When Cyrus spoke again, his voice had softened.
"When you are in this room, Mr President, and I am talking as your advisor and your friend, you need to leave tempers behind. You need to leave behind what wears you down. Everyone can understand what you must be going through but when it comes to this room, the decisions that need to be made there, you need your head. You need to be rational."
He felt angry, maybe because of Cyrus´ calm. "Don´t give me that bull, Cyrus. I´m fed up with the belittling. With the looks I get from the press when I look too tired and all the fake pity and the veiled questions."
"We both know it´s not just Jerry who upsets you this."
"Not JUST Jerry, Cy? For God´s sake, Cy, not JUST? I buried my child and that´s not enough reason to upset me?" He wanted to scream, partly because he knew that Cyrus was right. And that made him hate himself even more.
There was a pause, an awkward pause. Those didn´t happen often between the two of them and this silence right now was loaded with tension.
"She never answered the phone." he bit back after a moment. "Not once. So yes, Cy, it is JUST my son that makes me rethink whether or not I should issue an airstrike that might or might not take the lives of people, children included. Other mothers´ and fathers´ children who have no part in the policics of their parents."
Half truths and he knew it, but there was no way past them. The full truth hurt just too much. The full truth meant to stop functioning, to just crumble back on the carpet in the Oval, wishing to get drunk and forget. The full truth meant understanding, realizing and accepting that it was not just Jerry, his own son who was gone. But so was she. She had disappeared, just like that. Gone from his life, just like his child.
Cy didn´t reply to that and that felt like bitter victory. "Set up the call," Fitz said once more. "As soon as possible, Cy." Then he stepped past his old friend and left the room.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Back in the Oval Office he was told a few minutes later than the call might be scheduled for later this afternoon and he was willing to allow the necessary protocol. His more conscious, more rational self understood that there were things like that in place, that a faint, careful alliance needed time to grow, needed precautions, but on days like these he just wished to abandon this rational side of him all together, while at the same time like he welcomed the fact that it protected him from himself and his own dark thoughts. The pain. Because sitting behind the large desk, feeling another headache come on, he noticed that this rationality had served him well all morning until that outburst where the protective cocoon of a lack of emotions had crumbled to pieces. Now that it had, he felt emotionally drenched and he also noticed that he felt weak, dizzy, because he had not eaten all day and it was already past noon, around 2 pm as a glance at the large wooden clock to his right told him. Fitz sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. It seemed awfully early for Scotch…
When his cell phone rang, the possibility that it could be her on the other end didn´t even cross his mind. He had effectively pushed her back behind the wall fencing his feelings again, at the cost of losing his nerve in front of his most high ranking military advisors but she was neatly tucked back behind that wall. So neatly he expected the caller to be Cyrus. Maybe Mellie. He wasn´t sure he could deal with her right now, but the desperate sudden urge to hear a voice, any voice, made him reach for his phone. An unknown number. He scowled, considered for a moment, not to answer it, full aware that the number was known to a few only and that there was a reason for that. Security reasons. But then he did answer it.
"Hello." Not a question, more like a statement. His voice was sounding flat, he could tell.
He was met with silence. Some background noise he could not identify at first, but nobody replying to him directly. Just silence. He scowled. "Hello?" Again, nothing. Just silence and then piece by piece his mind set together, tried to puzzle together the background noise. Cars? Possibly rain? He could feel his body start to tingle with realization; he felt his mouth go dry, all of a sudden. She never answered the phone he recalled himself yelling earlier. Not once. Yet, he suddenly, violently felt his soul yearn, reach out for the possibility, the slim chance… He knew he was taking risks. This could be anybody. But that was not what his overtaxed soul told him. He paused. Knew he should hang up. This could be anyone. But he couldn´t. He couldn´t hang up, his hands, his fingers would not obey, his very being instead clutching desperately at the possibility.
He opened his mouth, closed it. Then:
"Liv?"
The pause following that was excruciatingly long. Just the faint sound of a car honking somewhere, the drizzling sound of something he guessed was rain. But just background noise. He tried again.
"Livvie? Is that you?"
She would hang up, he just knew it. He was convinced of it with a fatalist certainty that was clouding his mind and suffocating him. But she didn´t. After those many attempts to call her, after the desperation, the anger, the longing, she didn´t.
"Hey."
It was enough to nearly choke him up. He closed his eyes, feeling his breath threatening to hitch in his throat. "Where are you, Livvie?" His words were hurried as if he was scared she´d hang up after all, even after she had allowed him to know it was indeed and truly her on the other end. "Where are you now?"
Another pause. Then:
"I needed to hear your voice."
She sounded sad. She sounded so sad and pained that he felt a sudden, fierce hatred towards himself at knowing the cause for this pain was likely him.
"It´s so good to hear yours."
There were long pauses between their sentences, no imminent threat of either ending the call any more, he somehow felt that, but both of them savoring the mere presence of the other, however far away. "Where are you, Livvie?"
There were so many things to ask but he found himself incapable of asking them, fearing that any accusation, any bad word would chase her away. She barely seemed real to him now, yet nothing had felt as real to him all day.
"I…" she was clearly hesitant to tell him and he guessed there were a million reasons for this. "I…left the States."
"I know." he gave back, his voice almost a whisper. He felt so alone all of a sudden, the emptiness of his office screaming at him almost physically. "Come back to me, Livvie." He was clutching the phone, leaning forward, resisting the overwhelming urge to just lean his head flat on the desk, imagining her caressing hand soothingly go through his hair. "I need you."
Another pause before she spoke, her voice shaken. "I needed … to get away Fitz."
"Why?" He knew it was a stupid question, probably with an answer far too complex to even consider a halfway logical answer right now.
"For your own sake…" There was quite some background noise but he could clearly make out her voice as if he was subconsciously filtering the sounds. He sighed.
"Listen to me…" he then said. "Just listen. Where ever you are, Livvie." He could feel tears start stinging in his eyes. "I need you. Needed you. Still do. I am hanging by the edges of my sanity that you want to protect. I…I am not complete without you, Livvie. I am not sane without you."
He believed to hear a sound not unlike a sniffle on the other end and it nearly brought him to tears himself. He had always hated to see her cry, even though sometimes, oh, often, her anger had fuelled his own. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to tell her how betrayed he had felt, how alone when she had stopped answering calls, when she had just disappeared from his life, from everything. That he had felt she had abandoned him on some own selfish mission after they had had a sad but good phone call hours earlier. But he couldn´t. Because in the end that didn´t matter. In the end what mattered was what he had just told her. What she already knew. That he was not sane without her. Not complete without her.
"I am in Vienna."
He suddenly felt himself smile. A small smile, but it made him realize that he hadn´t smiled for a long time. Not since that night… "A beautiful city." he said.
"it´s raining." she gave back and his smile broadened because of the randomness of their conversation.
"And you´re standing in the rain."
"I wanted to stand in the sun."
That sentence didn´t make much sense to him but he let it slide, whatever it may mean. "Livvie? I love you."
The break that ensued was the most tormenting of all. "I love you, too." She gave back. "I love you too" And by then he could tell she was crying.
"Come back, Livvie. Please. Whatever made you leave, we will work it out. I need you here. I´m falling apart."
There was some murmuring in the background, another person speaking. "Who was that?" A sad chuckle. "Just an old lady." She said. "Giving me advice…" He had to smile once more. "Please tell me you´re coming back. That this is why you´re calling."
Another sniffle. "I need to think, Fitz." she.
"Okay." Of course it wasn´t.
"I still have your phone."
"Good."
"Can you call me tonight?" She sounded forlorn. As lost as he felt himself.
He closed his eyes. "Yes." he said. "I will."
And with that, the connection was broken.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Note: I am basing the first part of this chapter on some actual events, the current crisis in Iraq to flesh out the story because I like a realistic feel to the political backgrounds and because I believe it makes Fitz´ emotional state more obvious. I have no fixed "history" here, but assume that in Scandal reality 9/11 and the Iraq War happened in some way as well, leaving Iraq in a similar state to the one it is in now, but since Fitz is a Republican I was trying to give him a slightly different and more clear statement on how he might respond to ISIS (if he wasn´t shaken by doubts because of his obvious emotional state that is). If there are inaccuracies in the logic of this, I apologize but believe some of that has to be up to the imagination. :)