Author´s note:

A few quick notes on this chapter: Some research went into the first part. The Iraqi president´s name is fictional, it gives me greater liberties with how the story develops, but apart from this person I assume history having happened as we know it after the overthrowing of Sadam Hussein. As for the language, Wikipedia suggested that they speak Mesopotamian Arabic in Iraq, I apologize if this happens to be incorrect. Same for the proverb which is as well based on a research in Iraqi proverbs. That´s all. :)

On the reviews: Wow, I was really overwhelmed with all the support and the many many reviews I got since I posted the last chapter, I´ve never had so many and I am glad and happy for all of them and all those that wrote me personal messages and all the people that said they had started the fic and read it all the way through. Thank you so much, guys. :)

LoreneMichelle41: Hey there and thanks a lot. Good thing to see you sticked with me even though it took me so long to update. And yes, I thought it was necessary to have these two clash, glad you liked how this turned out.

Clio1792: I felt the need to expose just that kind of megalomania, yes. Despite there apparently being some "Eli fans" out there in the fandom from what I read at some discussion boards I think we need to remind ourselves that this guy is very very far from being an inspirational father figure. He needs to be exposed for what he has done.

Jennkyle: Sorry to hear about you being sick and all the more glad I could brighten up your day a little. Get well, dear.

Kimberly: Thank you so much, that´s a great compliment. Hope you´ll keep enjoying this. And yes, this is Olitz, because that´s what I decided right from the beginning but we´ll see where it leads yet. ;)

Earthmother29: Wow, thank you so much for all your reviews. It´s always wonderful to read along as a reader progresses through the story and shares his or her thoughts. Your comments are highly appreciated. :) Also really good to see my writing seems to be waking quite a few strong emotions.

Kbrow84: Well, can´t tell you about that yet. Stay tuned and you´ll see ;)

Ithappyat38: Thanks for reading. Hope you liked further chapters. Would love to know what you think of the story as you read through it. :)

Guests: I am not sure who was writing what here, but all of you be thanked for your reviews and the nice words. :) If you wish a personal reply, please add a name or nick name to your posts so I can refer to you personally.

ScotchSista: We talked already but once more thank you so very much for all your reviews and support. I hope I did a good job with this chapter. :) Enjoy.

Chapter 22 – Agreements

„I can see the urgency in this, Mr President, but currently, while we are considering airstrikes a possibility, at this point we are not looking at options that involve boots on the ground."

A few moments passed during which the translators corresponded, as she transferred what was said from English into the local Arabic variety, before the Iraqi president´s answered and his words were translated by his own interpreter back into English. Choice of words and tone conveyed how delicate the matter was as the man behind the desk of the Oval Office waited for the reply.

"I understand that after your more recent involvement, President Grant," came the reply. The interpreter shot him an almost apologetic glance. Fitz stifled back a similarly snarky response. This was not the moment for bickering.

"Be that as it may, President Masri, I believe we have common interests in the region. I Neither of us wants to see further destabilization. The United States are willing to provide support. Financially, as long as we can make sure where the money goes. Training as well. The USS Truman is in the Mediterranean at present which is no secret and there is the chance to employ more military sources into the area."

"Aircraft would be a help as would be airstrikes, President Grant" the reply came after another linguistic back and fro. "We believe your resources would help advance our efforts enormously and we would be very grateful to have the United States of America as a partner in this."

Fitz shook his head lightly. A little too eager, a little too smooth. Much of this had been set in the call about ten days ago already. "Mr President I believe in the large potential of this crisis, if there is any good that can come from this, to start overcoming old difficulties between our nations but there are conditions to this." he replied, glancing at the selected chiefs of the armed forces that were gathered in the Oval, standing like sentinels in front of the Resolute Desk. He leant back in his chair. The reply took a few seconds longer. Then Masri said: "Me and my Prime Minister are aware of the difficulties. But we have a proverb here. ´The provisions of tomorrow, belong to tomorrow´" the interpreter translated and even though Fitz wasn´t completely certain the idiom translated easily, the message was still clear. "however, there are possible steps that we can take now. Diplomatic channels that can be reactivated, but these are things that need more time to debate about. Not over the phone."

Fitz raised his eyebrows. "What are you suggesting, President Masri?" He could feel a certain tension in the room.

A pause. Then a few more sentences in Mesopotamian Arabic. The translation followed suit. "A delegation. Including a few of my ministers … and me." The translator´s eyes had widened before she translated that last part. This was big. It had been several decades since heads of state of their two nations had met face to face. Fitz paused for a moment, silent glances going around the room, each of them taking in the impact of the suggestion. A suggestion as such that had not been asked by them, but requested by the Iraqis. That made it even better. Finally, he responded. "I think we see eye to eye on that Mr President." Fitz said.

"Good. I believe we both agree that this should happen on neutral ground?"

"Of course. And soon."

"Absolutely." Another pause as Fitz could tell despite the fact he didn´t know a word of Arabic. Then: "It was a pleasure talking to you President Grant. My nation appreciates the help the American government offers."

A little bit of a stretch because so far nothing had been decided yet therefore Fitz replied with an honest, yet ever so slightly alert remark.

"And my administration is looking forward to bettering our diplomatic relationship, President Masri."

And with that, the phone call ended.

Harold Walters, his Secretary of State, was the first to move, and then speak. "This is big, Sir."

"I´d stay cautious." General Langdon, he leader of the Jount Chiefs of Staff, contradicted instantly. "They want us to take their bait. They´re signaling willingness to cooperation on a nuclear arms deal but they will not make it happen. They want our help but there is no way they will even touch on negotiating their uranium enrichment programme."

Fitz got to his feet, turning towards the window. "Well, gentlemen and I believe we should give them a chance to see what comes of it. No matter what, this does get us a step further and if it can combine our interests in the region with having the Iraqis finally and in earnest get into talks about dismantling their enrichment facilities...that´s a win-win situation for us."

"Certainly, Mr President I am just saying that we have been dealt a splendid deck of cards, but we better not waste it." He was used to Langdon being the more pessimistic kind. Sometimes it annoyed him, but after this phone call it only mildly amused him. "Of course." he said, raising his eyebrows slightly as if to challenge the other man to call him naïve. "Which is why I said we´ll be catious. Still, Harold," he motioned to his Secretary of State "I want you to assemble a small team so we can signal we are open to the bilateral negotiations President Masri offered. Let´s try and see how serious they are about it once we approach their embassador about it for real. Walters nodded. "I can put together a few options and get it on your desk before tonight, Sir."

"Good. Meanwhile I want updates every 12 hours on the movements of ISIS troops, General," This went to Langdon. "that and keep an eye on limited airstrike options that don´t include troops on the ground. He could tell the General did not completely agree with him there but the respect of the office forbid any backtalk. "Of course, Mr President."

"That´s all then," Fitz continued and damn in this moment he did feel energized. It had been a while since a meeting had gone so smoothly, since a meeting had felt so satisfying and actually like he was accomplishing something, setting the tracks instead of just following them and running in circles. He rolled his shoulders as he got up while his staffers prepared to leave, uttering the obligatory "Thank you, Mr President." Yes, that was how he felt. How he hadn´t felt in a while and it felt good.

Of course, he thought only a minute later, fate didn´t really mean well with him, or else how could he explain to himself that only seconds later that rush of good adrenaline turned into something awkward and insecure again? Cy, as he noticed to his gratification when the small assembly left the Oval had not stayed at the door with an ear pressed to it but was probably sulking somewhere in his office. But as soon as the small group had exited, his secretary squeezed past the last of them leaving, an apologetic and … quite distraught, stressed look on her face. He had been glancing at the notes that he had taken during the call and looked up when he caught her moving in from the corner of his eyes. "Lauren?"

She looked a little uneasy, opened her mouth, closed it again. "Mr President, Olivia Pope is here to see you."

He could feel the wonderful feeling of being in control, being powerful, evaporate, leaving something behind that was a discomfortingly hopeful, dependent little fluttering of his heart. He frowned. "What?"

Lauren stepped from one foot to the other. "Olivia Pope, Sir, she…requested a moment of your time."

There were two things unusual about this he noticed while he felt utterly helpless and a bit mad at himself because despite everything, despite his disappointment and anger and the feeling of betrayal that her leaving had created, he couldn´t help but cling to every moment that things at least seemed to look…better? How could he tell? He didn´t even know what she was here to see him for. Oh stupid heart. He sighed. But unusual about the situation was this: He could not explain why she was here. Well, she was the type that liked to disobey his wishes and that was partly why he loved her, but he had made clear he needed time and he knew she understood. She would not disrespect that. That was not her. She was impulsive, but not cruel like that. Second: usually if Liv decided there was something important to her that required her to see him at once , nobody could hold her back. Certainly not Lauren. Probably not even the Secret Service. Yet …

"Where is she, Lauren?" He had no idea what his secretary knew about the whole thing, but to anyone in the country the press had provided a clear picture of what might go on when he saw her. Plus, this was the White House, a place that Mellie regarded as her own hunting grounds. It wouldn´t surprise him to find out his spiteful wife was prancing around the West Wing sometimes dropping subtle or not so subtle juicy hints at his staffers.

"In the Outer Oval Office, Sir" Lauren replied, referring to the room next door where she also had her desk.

He meant to reply something but… didn´t. Instead he just placed his notes down, stepped around his desk and headed outside, maybe just to confirm with his own eyes that Livvie…Liv…Olivia Pope would actually wait patiently like everybody else.

She was. She turned her head when he exited the office, a look in her eyes that he could not place but that mirrored so many emotions that he could not even guess why she was here. It was not just about them, whatever status they had right now or whether there even still was a them… no. there was more, and he felt a sudden pain, almost physical at his inability to guess what it was.

"Liv."

She got to her feet. "Mr President…" Her eyes told a story different from the formal address, probably put on for show to not make Lauren even more uncomfortable. The woman had returned to her reception desk but probably was unable to overhear.

"What…Why…" Why was he stammering? It made him painfully aware of his own vulnerability which as he was very sure was probably all too visible on his face. "Why are you here, Liv?"

She didn´t reply to that directly. "Can we talk?"

He sighed. Refused the urge to rub the bridge of his nose to just fight away the tense feeling that was starting to build up between his eyes.

"Please?"

It was a bad idea. Really bad. He suddenly guessed she was here because of them. Why else? It would just lead to trouble, it would… why would she…after having deserted him and he had asked her to give him time? His voice, after thinking those things, sounded a little pressed. "Come in then." He turned, for the moment unable to live this out in public because this was public. For a moment he needed to keep his dignity because just seeing her again woke all those conflicting feelings. Everything he felt for her. Love. But also all the other things: all the things that had made him ask her to leave him alone for the time being, so he could remember the love. Focus on it. Cherish it like he once had. So he could come to terms with it. He turned, walked back into his office and could hear from the clatter of her heels that she was slowly following him. She sounded dispirited. Not the same Olivia he had so determinately believed to just abandon him when he had needed her most. He could hear her close the door and turned around.

"I asked you to give me time, Livvie." He could not hold back the reproach. A feeling of betrayal was not so easily erased and her overstepping that boundary…didn´t make it any better. It made it worse.

She gave him that look. An apology mixed with torment. "I need you to listen to me, Fitz," she said, her voice low but urgent as she walked into the room. He had retreated to his desk, was leaning against it. "I did." he said. "I told you I need time."

She shook her head, seemed to need a moment to compose herself and some part of him, held down by a feeling of pain and betrayal, struggled against his heart, demanding he embrace her to make her feel better. To make them feel better.

"This is not about us, Fitz. I need to talk to you about Jerry."

He paused, could feel his fingers tighten around the edges of the Resolute Desk. Exhaled. "I don´t think that…you have the right to this, Livvie." He said, unable to fight the tenseness in his voice, yet unable to keep his voice from softening ever so slightly when he uttered her name.

"Fitz, please…"

But there was that anger, that…grief… He had cried. He had broken down. But he had not cried against her shoulder. He had not broken down in front of her, the only person in the world he could bear seeing him that vulnerably. She had simply not been there.

"There was a time to talk about this." he said, his voice firm. "There was a time when I would have wanted you to, Liv. But you were gone. So…why would you bring him up now? After weeks of …" He wondered if it had been the pictures she had seen. The pictures Mellie had sent to her and that had sunken in full force by now.

"It´s not about that." Her voice was even lower now, for once she would not let his raised voice challenge her to a shouting match.

"What is it about then?" he asked, more firmly, keeping his voice in check. He didn´t want to yell, his mixed emotions overpowering, torn between yelling his anger at her and the wish to just hold her.

She paused. "I know what really happened."

He frowned. "We know what happened. I told you I´d not hold against you what your mother did. You´re not her. She paid for it."

She looked at him, looked right at him. "I think there is something you should listen to, Fitz." she said, then reached into her coat pocket, to take out her smart phone. She walked closer and for a moment he thought she´d touch him but she made a careful move not to. Instead, she placed the phone on his desk and as he glanced at it he could tell she had just started a voice recording app. She tapped the screen. "What is this?" he asked. She didn´t reply and what he heard next was a conversation that started as follows:

"I was wondering whether you had heard anything about Harrison yet." Olivia´s voice, unmistakably. She must have had the phone in her coat pocket because the sound was slightly muffled, yet her words were clear enough to make out with ease. Her voice without a doubt. And the voice answering was, without a doubt, that of her father.

"I told you I hadn´t. I would have called you if I had."

It made no sense to Fitz and he shot her a glance. Why was she playing this to him. He hadn´t even known she was looking for her friend, Harrison. But she didn´t comment. She just stared at the phone and he had the impression she was almost trembling. And with every word that was uttered, he could tell better what made her tremble. With every word, with every step the conversation unfolded, things fell into place, piece by piece. The entire horrible puzzle, exposing with brutal clarity how they had all been fooled by Eli Pope.