Author´s note: My muse is in full swing these days, let´s enjoy this while it lasts…and before my vacation ends, plunging me back into work. So far I have a lose outline for chapters up to 37 so I should be able to update fairly frequently. Your recent faves, follows and reviews have been great, thank you again so much to everyone reading this story.

Noro: Thank you, dear :)

Trininads: Aw, that´s so nice of you to say, thank you. :)

Clio1792: My idea for this fanfic was always to make it feel realistic and in this fandom I think that means that there cannot be only a focus on the relationship these two have. Since one of them is the president of the United States, his world would never stop turning and I think that´s part of the big appeal of writing Scandal fanfic: it allows you to merge so many things and I really enjoy adding a little bit of a political thriller into it. it also all has its purpose as you will see, so I am glad you appreciate it. Also, I was aiming at the reader rooting for Kimi, so thank you for that. :)

Promise101: Wow, that´s awesome to hear, actually one of the biggest compliments to me is to hear that while already 30+ chapters in, this fic can be captivating enough to be unputdownable for some of its readers so this review really put a smile on my face, thank you :) there are a few chapters yet to go, but things are now slowly going to fall into place one by one for the climax. Hope you´ll keep enjoying.

IAMASCANDALLOVER: Oh my, so much capslock, I´ll take that as a compliment. ;) Good thing to know I´m keeping you on the edge of your seat. Thanks for your review. :)

RachelBarbraBerry: Thanks :)

Chapter 33

Evening talks

It was a perfect evening for a nice little stroll in Atlanta´s Centennial Olympic Park. The sun already nearing the horizon but still illuminating the spectacle of fountains centered around the Olympic rings, the square itself ringed by low rows of concrete stairs to one side, occupied by scattered groups of tourists, teens and businesspeople with loosened ties against the background of a portion of the Atlanta skyline. The right weather to escape the air conditioned confines of the TV studio he had been trapped in all day.

These little strolls were his ritual after hours whenever the weather would allow it. Now and then someone would recognize his face, sometimes in a way that told him they knew him from somewhere, but not sure where, causing him to smile the way he rarely did when these people watched them in their daily dose of news. His mind already focused on a couple of friends he would meet later he nearly didn´t notice the vibrating hum of his smart phone. Don´t call me back he thought to himself almost like a mantra when fishing the device from his pocket. No terror attack or mass shooting, please don´t call me back to work. But the screen did not show any name he knew. The number was unknown.

"Jason Harrod."

There was a short pause on the other end. Then: "Hello." He scowled and involuntarily slowed down. Something about the voice seemed off. Only when the person on the other end spoke again he could tell what it was. The voice was female but whoever it was that was speaking was using some kind of device to distort her voice beyond recognition. Whoever this was wanted to stay incognito.

"You´re working for CNN." It was a statement, not much of a question even though it might have been intended to sound like one.

"Yes. Who am I speaking to?"

"My name is not important right now, Mr Harrod." Did he detect some nervousness in the other voice? A little…strain and hurry as if to keep him from hanging up? He used that to his advantage.

"This is my private phone and what you´re doing could be considered a threat, altering your voice like that. Tell me who you are." His voice was firm but his heartbeat had sped up nervously. This hadn´t happened to him before but every news anchor knew stories of harassment, of threat, in online comments, in yelled insults, in phone calls like that, just because at some point someone somewhere didn´t like the way one reported things on the news. He was far from some of his colleagues believing that this was a dangerous job, but now and then things could get a little scary.

"I don´t want to harm you, Mr Harrod." The woman spoke on. He tried to guess her age and found it impossible. She had an American accent, clearly. Midwest maybe. "I am calling because I have highly classified information and I want to offer you the exclusives."

He stopped in his tracks. Looked around. Let a mother with two giggling girls and ice creams pass before he continued. "What kind of information?"

"Step by step." she replied. "we need to talk business first."

He couldn´t help but laugh. "You don´t strike me as someone with experience in this, Missy. Are you going to ask of a few million dollars now and offer me some weird conspiracy shit? How do I even know you´re not fucking with me?" Ridiculous, he thought to himself, probably also a little mad at himself for briefly believing in a story that he, Jason Harrod , had the exclusives to. Nobody else. Getting some proper media attention that he thought had been denied to him a little too often.

There was a pause and with some satisfaction he briefly thought he had shut up a hoax. But what she said then made him go pale.

"I know what I am doing." she said and he started to guess her age at below thirty. She sounded stubborn. "I am good at it. I obtained information that will make wikileaks look boring. I know you´re in Centennial Park heading towards you car that you parked at the north side. Today, while at work you bought a novel at amazon and booked a weekend trip in New York, probably for you wife because it´s her birthday in two days. You also spent 17 minutes on youporn before deleting the browser history."

He cursed under his breath. "Fuck..who the hell are you?"

"If you´re interested I will call you again in 30 minutes. Leave the phone on and make sure you´re alone. I don´t want to harm you Mr Harrod and I won´t. But believe me, you want that story and if you´re not taking it, others will."

And with that the line went dead.

ooooooooooooo

Out here it sometimes seemed almost easy to forget the extraordinary circumstances that made up the up- and downsides of this office. With the peaceful white-bluish glow of the fountain down on the South Lawn, the peaceful faint sound of the water drifting up and the familiar shape of the Washington Monument in some distance, the craziness of the "bubble" surrounding every president seemed almost transparent. Leaning back in the armchair, Fitz allowed himself a few more moments of this simple, yet treacherous quiet, trying to drown out the thoughts that had assaulted him all day. When she stepped into the doorframe, not yet walking out on the balcony, he could almost more sense than hear her, her presence familiar to him and waking a feeling of warmth as well as a pang of pain in his chest.

"Fitz. It´s getting cold."

He turned his head, allowing himself to smile and noticing in that smile that it was a warm one. It sobered again, a little, but remained benevolent. "I´m a grown man, Liv. I´ll be okay."

"The next couple of days are going to be very busy."

"Liv, my life is busy. Your life is busy." He motioned with his hand, indicating the chair next to him, not close to the one he was sitting on, he noticed, offering her personal space alongside the company. Oh, the details his mind was capable of trying to assess all possible angles of being around her, he thought to himself. "Why don´t you come out a bit? It´s nice."

He was aware that he was trying to make conversation in a normal way, relaxed, uninhibited by what had happened between them and she probably was, too. He could tell in the way she briefly smiled before tucking her cardigan a little closer, but she did step outside. Did sit down. He allowed himself to study her profile for a few seconds when she looked out across the Loop and towards the blinking lights of vehicles starting to set off more sharply against the fading daylight by the minute, averting his gaze when she had just caught him looking. There was a pause in which his thoughts revisited the same cornerstones of uncertainty they had been playing with all day.

"Liv…"

"Don´t say it." Her voice was gentle yet firm.

He straightened, interlacing his fingers as he raised his eyebrows at her. "Don´t say what?"

"That he´s my father." She had turned her gaze towards the lawn again. "That you don´t want me to be caught between a rock and a hard place. That … this is something you shouldn´t put me through." She turned to face him and he caught himself. "Well, that would be true now wouldn´t it?"

She held his gaze. "This is about more than you keeping me away from trouble, Fitz. I know trouble. I don´t mind the rock and the hard place because that's been my choice far too often and I always coped."

He suppressed a sigh, sensing her defiance. She was set on this and it made him proud but some part of him kept insisting that this was something that was twisted. Having a daughter go against a father after he had killed the son of… he failed to find a fitting label and broke off the thought, shying away from the hope or the hurt it might create.

"There might be other ways." he considered, finding that despite the hurt she had caused him there was a feeling, overwhelmingly strong: he wanted to protect her. He didn´t know yet whether things could ever become the way they had been between them, but protect her was the least he wanted to do if he could not guarantee the other. "We´ll put Rosen in charge and set the FBI on his trail as soon as Huck´s whistleblower delivers the feds with the documents they need to track him down. You don´t need to witness all this." God, when had he started to think like this? Talk like this? Like part of a conspiracy?

She smiled but it was the kind of defiant smile whenever she was about to call someone out on a ridiculous idea. The kind of smile, almost dangerous, she would give him, a lifetime ago on the campaign trail and he noticed why he hadn´t seen it in a while: because she had become more intimate around him since then, hiding that mocking smile… yet, it had reappeared, a token of their growing distance, now and again, during the years. And there it was again. But it looked more sad than its sarcastic counterpart.

"There are always other ways. But this way, with me handling this is the way that will get you what you want. It will get you the man who murdered your son." He caught himself noticing that she probably chose the distant description of her father for a reason.

"And once we got him..." he said, not wanting to continue this thought, this track of the conversation. It was…unpleasant, leading to nasty questions that no daughter should ever have to answer, no matter what had happened to put a gulf between her and her father. "What then?"

"Then the courts step in, Fitz. It´s called the rule of law."

He nearly rolled his eyes at her, catching himself in time, telling himself that her snappy sarcasm was exactly why he had to bring the matter up with her.

"You know what I mean." A second of silence. Two. Telling him that she did know. "I don´t want you to feel guilty or that you had to do this years from now. When this is handled." He made a deliberate effort not to pause before the last word, yet the implication of what he said hung heavy in the air. They both knew what he meant. What would happen once Eli was caught was beyond telling. Life long prison for sure. But that was not the elephant in the room… What was unspoken yet obvious to both of them was another decision the courts might make, another way a jury might sway and plead, when a good attorney reminded them of the brutal killing of a boy. A child. In public. And how would she handle that? Would she walk away from it and pretend to have hardened herself against it? Or were these considerations just his own selfish worries, that a possible death sentence she might help deliver against her own father was what would forever stand between them as … lovers?

The silence between them lasted for long enough to have become awkward, had this conversation happened a few days ago. Then she shook her head. Got to her feet. "This is about Jerry. It´s about you and it´s about justice." She faced him, her arms crossed over her chest, not just against the settling chill of the evening air he was sure. "But it´s more. He has manipulated you. Me. He has pulled the strings and left death and destruction in his way whenever he thought it could get him just an inch closer to his goals. He killed Jerry, Fitz. But he also killed Harrison and lied to me about it. He talked his poison to me over the years ever since I was a girl, telling me I was better than the world and I drank it up because it made me strong and I failed to see him as the monster that he is for far too long." She had started to raise her voice to a point where, while it didn´t look like she´d get hysteric, he could still see she was talking herself through things long stored up. He got up and she took a step away, not to shy away from him it seemed, but because she had not yet fully made her point and was determined to make it. "This man is evil, Fitz and I am done with him and his manipulations. And if you don´t let me help you take him down I´ll walk out of here, because I know you better than this. You never held me down. He did." She had walked to the threshold of the balcony door, almost trembling with anger, her voice firm, determined, her eyes fierce and he felt, despite all the mixed emotions her strong yet fragile state stirred in him, a swelling pride. And nodded. Stepped forward and reached out for her upper arms with his hands. She didn´t give in but neither did she hold back. Tension thick around them, but what kind was hard to tell. Anger. Fear. And the feeling that they were bound in a common purpose, making them strong. For a second, a precious second he was acutely aware of the silence around them, the kind of silence that would make a second last almost a lifetime without ever appearing to be lasting long at all. She was looking up at him, those same feelings mirrored in her eyes that he was feeling. He stepped closer.

"Liv…"

She opened her mouth, closed it and then he could feel her hand, slightly trembling on his right lower arm.

"Fitz…"

The fall of footsteps had hardly ever sounded so loud. Someone cleared his throat and he snapped his head up, meeting the eyes of Tom Larsson.

"Tom." His voice sounded dry. "back from the dead I see." He wasn´t even apologetic of his sarcasm.

"Just a cold, Sir." The agent shifted on his feet, not quite immune to the awkwardness of his interruption. Fitz merely raised his eyebrows.

"Sir, I think you should have a look at what´s going on on CNN."