Author´s note: This has been ages, I know. I always intended to bring this story to an end and today is the day. If you made it thus far, it´s just one more chapter for you, dear reader. Or rather, one and an epilogue. No worries. I posted them both in one go. :-)

My life is quite busy and the muse doesn´t always strike. All the more thankful am I for all the readers that keep reading. So here´s thanks to my reviewers:

Sister1256: Thank you. :-)

Clio1792: Hehe, I enjoyed writing this chapter, especially the parts that you mentioned. I just liked the idea of having Liv emerge from this life threatening moment not as the weak damsel in distress but as the badass fixer that she is.

Jennkyle: I´ve had lots of weekends since, but thanks for your feedback and for reading. :-)

Noro: I hope you are still around, because the rolling in of chapters has been very slow, I know. I hope you´ll read the last two as well. Thank you :-)

Olitzalltheway: Thank you so much, this means a lot. I hope you´ll enjoy the conclusion to all of this.

Kelleekellkell: Yep, that´s what I thought, she´s a fixer at heart and I wanted to once more have her return to that role. :-) Thanks for reading.

Chapter 44

It´s handled

The Hotel Amigo was located a mere 10 miles from the airport, a distance swiftly crossed with a presidential motorcade on high security alert, but he had still counted the seconds, and every single one of those had stretched into an eternity. The Beast, the presidential limousine sported many nice features, ranging from a communication system that allowed both contacting every atomic bunker under American operation to satellite connections that would have connected him to the Americans currently in the Earth´s orbit, but all of that technological extravagance faded into nothingness when there was nothing he could do to assure her safety.

He had followed the news closely, simultaneously on three news channels displayed on almost mute on the small flatscreens within the cabin and had constantly been on the phone, half begging half threatening his staff, but all the way to the hotel, the area around which had become even more of a high security zone, Fitzgerald Grant had felt cut off from the world and just as powerless as an ordinary citizen.

He strode into the lobby, against his typical demeanor, completely ignoring any pleasantries towards the hotel staff, barking at the aide walking alongside him, a skittish thirty-something trying to keep up with his pace and trying even more desperately to not anger the his Commander in Chief any further. "It must be possible to get me updates on the situation, god dammit." Fitz snapped. "Get into contact with Interpol, with the Belgian government, give me anything here." He was really wondering in this moment what it was even worth being the president of the United States if it kept him in the dark like that. He had never been in a situation where news was under lockdown like this and not much time had even passed since the shots, yet it felt like an eternity.

And then, when he stepped into the elevator, forcing his steps to pause for long enough to allow the ride up into the suite that had been prepared for him, his phone rang. It nearly slipped through his panicky fingers as he fumbled it out of his pockets. The door to the elevator closed as he pressed the screen to receive the call he had been so desperately waiting for.

"Hi."

The voice on the other side of the line sounded on the verge of tears and he leant against the back on the elevator, pressing his eyes shut as he felt tears start to sting, for once not giving a damn that he was not alone but in the company of two aides and four agents all of which politely tried to ignore his reaction, looking the other way with a sense of focus that in any other situation would have bordered on comical.

"Hi." He could hear his voice crack even then, not a word into the conversation. And when he spoke on, he felt his throat constricted, hardly any air in his lungs to get out what he wanted to say, torn by the fear of what might have happened to her and the intense, insane relief that she was still around to speak to him. "Are…you all right?"

"Yes." Her voice now sounded no more firm than his. And then, with much more resolve she added: "It´s handled."

"What?"

In the first moment that remark took the remainder of his breath away, his mind failing to piece together what she was even talking about.

"It´s handled." she repeated, simple as that. "The president is dead, but the news outlets will not spin it against us."

"You…seriously think this is the first thing on my mind right now, Liv?" Deep down, he understood that this was her being herself. That he should be relieved that she felt well enough to even think about such things, that this was probably her way of regaining control over the situation, quite literally. But…

"Well, it should be on yours, Mister President." Could he hear the trace of a smile in her voice? He believed that if she had been there in the elevator with him that it would have come with the pinch of a glare. He couldn´t help but chuckle, ignoring that the sound was that of a sob. Swallowing his pride in front of all those witnesses was easy, so easy just hearing her alive and well. "Are you…?"

"I´m on my way."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Later, the half hour it had taken her to catch up with him at the hotel seemed like an eternity and even though he knew she was alive it gave him the terrible sense of a what if, what life would be like if she hadn´t made it, if he had never had the chance to truly make up, to truly mend their differences, to rekindle what once had been there. He had been prancing around the suite like a beast in a cage, heart fluttering, his staffers and agents respectfully leaving him alone with the TVs turned on and yet he found he could not even focus on the news half as well as he should. She had been right. Things had been handled. There must have been reporters in the room. Whatever might have happened in there he could not tell, felt totally in the dark about, but she had turned the tide, like she always did.

And then she was there. Face pale and with the eyes of a deer in the headlights telling about the horror she had been through and she didn´t even let him question whether the blood he saw on her clothes was her own. There was a patched up something on her forehead. She just flung herself into his arms and he held her for a long, long time.

Later he couldn´t remember crying, whether the tears that wet his skin were hers or his. It didn´t matter. All that mattered was that she was here, with him.

"I was so scared for you." His voice sounded hoarse when he finally pulled back from her, cradling her face in his hands, his forehead against hers, their gazes meeting.

"And I for you."

There had been barriers between them that had seemed impossible to overcome, but right in that moment they were breaking down rapidly into smoldering ruins.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The news cycle was dominated by what had happened at the airport. That much was to be expected. And while Tom didn´t like being in the focus of it all, he knew the boss was pleased, very pleased, by how things had turned out. In the end, it seemed, things would always end up going just in Command´s way. All the better, he thought.

Truth be told however, he didn´t like being a pawn. It had been fun and, to be honest, quite lucrative, for a while to be the eyes and ears of the true leader of the United States, the person that truly kept the Republic safe without needing the glare of cameras and presidential pomp. That´s how things had been for a while. And serving such a man as Command came at a cost. His own safety, his own honour, the feeling of serving the greater good at the expense of his conscience. But what was a mind at peace against the scope of the nation? Back then he had administered the poison without a second thought. The kid had been just a boy, but if one measured things against the security of the country, one life was a little price to pay. He had come to the conclusion a long while ago, that Command knew what was best. He had not even questioned it. Nor did he doubt his own spot in the inner circles of power. Nobody had ever suspected anything. And it had taken one look from the Fixer´s eyes to know she would keep silent about him also. He was too important to be exposed. A puzzle piece in the hero story without whom the entire saga would collapse. He needn´t worry.

Still, why hadn´t Command contacted him again? The man had gone radio silent after one last instruction back in the room it had all taken place in. But what was he supposed to do now? As usual, he figured, he would hold his post as he always had ever since he had started his career as a double agent. And that meant his shift was about to end. Upon his return to the Secret Service headquarters in the hotel he had stayed with his colleagues, avoiding the press that, for better or worse, had already dug through official photos and old college archives to produce pictures of him, plastering them all over the news, fleshing out the story of the hero…

They entered the hotel through a side entrance, away from the throng of reporters. Made their way through the corridors and up the elevator to the rooms close to the presidential suite. He had struck up a conversation with one of the other colleagues. Another turn, another door and they were back at headquarters. There were a few agents there, half a dozen he immediately spotted with practiced eye. One of them was the head of security and before he knew what was happening, the two men flanking him had taken to action. One of them reached for his arm, twisting it onto his back, the other disarmed him faster than he could even react to and before he knew what was happening, he found himself on the floor. Later he would find that it was not some unexplainable slowness that had incapacitated him so, but a syringe jabbed into the neck with a strong narcotic, immediately numbing his nerves and senses.

The voice of the head of security was cold as ice as he faded into unconsciousness.

"Agent Larsson. You are under arrest for high treason against the president of the United States."