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Chapter 5

Stillness. The calmness in the air before a storm. The gathering clouds. The motionless trees. The darkness that swallows the light. Stillness. It's a word rarely associated with Olivia Pope, usually a swirling wind of thoughts and a bundle of energetic plans and actions, but, as she sits in her office, lost in her head, she is still.

As a fixer, her professional world is all about rapid change, response, redirection, misdirection. Her private world is supposed to be different. An orderly, sensible, boring, normal existence. So when the two collide, it's a shock to her system. It's paralyzing. It's terrifying. She wills herself to be anywhere but in her office, on this day, dealing with this issue. As she gradually comes out of a state that is hard to define, she blinks rapidly. Trying to snap out of it. Trying to re-join the land of the living. As she does, as her figurative armor surrounds her, she sits a little straighter and projects nothing but confidence, safe from the pending storm.

She turns to Huck, who has witnessed her transformation, and asks, "Is it handled?" Her voice gives no hint of what she's feeling because, frankly, she doesn't know what she's feeling.

"It's handled."

"Good." She stands up, smoothing imaginary wrinkles on her clothing, as though nothing has happened. And he watches. Worries and watches. She grabs the remote control and her index finger hovers over the "Power" button. Huck makes a move to stop her, but the glare he receives makes him think better of it. She takes a deep breath as she turns on the televisions. Each screen, tuned to a different news station, has a picture of him, of her, of them. Innocent pictures that are now being used as evidence against them.

As she listens, she reaches into her armoire and flips mindlessly through through the collection of clothing she keeps for emergency purposes, ignoring the sound of hangers scraping against the metal rod. She grabs a dark colored ensemble and selects a pair of shoes to wear with it. Before she can close its doors, her eyes catch a bottle of wine. Without hesitation, she grabs that too.

And she listens as the layers of her private life are poked, prodded, peeled, left exposed to the elements, being destroyed by strangers.

Olivia possesses a unique kind of filter, the kind that can sift through the white noise and capture what's relevant. Her mind pieces the bits together, retains what's important, discards what isn't, and they form the story the media is telling. As she listens, she starts building a competing narrative that she will sell to change the direction of the national conversation.

"The alleged Presidential mistress."

"The President has yet to make a statement."

"Anonymous sources who were with them on the campaign trail said they saw nothing to indicate anything romantic between the two."

"Anonymous White House sources say Pope had unfettered access to the President and, in fact, they were heard more than once having bitter shouting matches."

"Sources say the President met Pope at a local restaurant and when he left, she was in tears."

"We have still not been able to find out the President's whereabouts the night of the First Lady's revelation that the President had indeed been unfaithful, but sources say he was not at the White House. There is some speculation that he spent the night with Pope."

One of the perks of being a Gladiator is the lack of emotion, lack of feelings. As others try to define who she is and scar her with a brightly colored, neon-blinking label, she is working. As others try to distill their relationship to the most basic thing, a fling, comparing it to Lewinski and Monroe, she shakes her head and keeps working. As they focus on the simple, the easy, she begins weaving a tale which includes fact and fiction, designed to confuse and distract.

The way she sees it, the media can be controlled. They can be spoon fed a pack of lies because few have the time, people power or inclination to research and verify anymore. What she cannot control is the variable known as the American public. How they will take the news. The American public seems to have a strange puritanical streak and sometimes you just can't predict their reaction. While she's confident in her Plan A, she has to think of a Plan B just in case.

She pulls herself from her thoughts and looks up, slightly startled to see Huck still standing off to himself. "Huck, I need to speak to him. "

"I need to set some things up on my computer, but I can make that happen for you."

"How much time do you need?"

"Ten minutes to be safe."

Huck breezes past the conference room, past Abby and Quinn, and Harrison. When he goes into his office and closes the door, Abby and Quinn glance at each other. Words between them are unspoken; they both enter Olivia's office and close the door behind them.

"What?"

"We think Quinn may have found the source of the leak."

"Who?"

"Harrison."

"You must be wrong, Quinn. Harrison and I go way back. He would never do anything to hurt me. Double-check your work."

"I triple checked it and it all goes back to him."

Olivia spies Harrison watching them from his office. When he looks down to avoid her gaze, she knows he is indeed the source of the leak. Olivia storms out of her office and heads straight toward Harrison, who turns his back as he braces for what comes next.

As she enters his office, she slams the door so hard, even the glass trembles. Rage radiates from her body, warming the room at least ten degrees. Perspiration forms on his brow, dripping from his forehead, pooling at his feet. But, not her. She manages to stay cool, yet forcing him to feel the heat coming from her soul.

"How could you do this to us?"

"We both know once the press got wind the President was unfaithful they wouldn't have stopped digging until they found out it was you. I thought that by giving them something, we could push the story we want to tell."

"That wasn't your call to make, Harrison. You have no idea what you've unleashed. And I fail to see how you were planning to control the situation seeing as how-"

"I called you. I kept calling you, but you wouldn't answer."

"Because I was busy. Because I didn't think my oldest friend would throw me under the bus like that without a plan. And if you had a plan, it failed. I don't understand what you thought you were doing. I don't understand how you could do this without running it by me first."

Harrison looks at the ceiling, the walls, his feet; he looks anywhere but Olivia's eyes. Because he failed her. She came back for him, eventually, saved him, and this is how he repays her? All he can do is try to make her understand. "It was going to be ripping the band aid off at once, like we did with the Rochester case, and then I'd written a statement from you-"

"Harrison, that doesn't even make sense. Any admission should've come from the White House, not this office. You know that."

"Liv, I'm sorry-"

And he is. And she knows it. But she turns her back and walks away, leaving what's left of his sentence dangling in the air.

Fitz is sitting in his private office, head in hands, when his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he smiles, knowing immediately who's on the other end. "Hi."

"Hi."

Both breathe a little easier. Both are a little calmer. Suddenly, everything is going to be okay. They believe that and it will because with the simple word, Hi, they tell each other all they need to know. That they love each other. That they, as a couple, are okay.

"How are you?" they ask at the same time. Then, they laugh. They laugh together at a joke only they would get, something speaking to how "in sync" they are.

"I'm fine," once again they answer. They lie.

"I have a plan, I just-"

"Livvy, I told you, I don't want you fixing me. I have a plan, but you have to be okay with it."

She smiles to herself, secretly loving when he takes control like this. It makes all the difference in the world to have someone else finally taking care of her. It makes her feel loved. "What's the White House response going to be?"

"I'm not going to deny it, Liv. I'm not going to deny you." There's a finality in his tone. He's been trying, for years, to admit the truth. They used to joke that he would shout it from the rooftops that the incredible woman he's in love with is Olivia Pope, but she always stopped him. This time, there's no denial, there's no stopping him.

"Okay. We'll confirm but do nothing else. Does that work for you?"

"Yes."

They sit cradling their phones in a comfortable silence. It's soothing. Comforting. They could stay this way for hours, but that's not something most people can understand. How just being in the presence of someone else, even if it's just by phone, can be...everything.

"Liv?"

"Yes?"

"What happened this morning?"

In the past, she would've avoided answering. Changed the conversation and he would've let her for fear of upsetting the always delicate dance between being together and not. There was a lack of trust that what they had was true and real, and she always kept a barrier between them. He'd broken it down, so when he asks, she gives him an honest answer. "I can't give you specifics over the phone, but my father is the one who took me this morning. When we're able to see each other, I'll tell you everything. I promise."

There's so much unsaid. So many I love yous unuttered. They want nothing more than to be in each other's arms and just be. Just feel. Just revel in their love, leaving the rest of the world behind to fend for itself.

Olivia has come to terms with this chapter of her life closing. Once the rumor is confirmed, she can no longer maintain her status as "fixer". Everyone will question whether her success was really earned, or if it was the result of her relationship with the President. The fact that one of her own turned against her, no matter his reason, stung. Stings.

"Olivia?"

"What?"

"Who's the leaker?"

Silence. He wasn't supposed to betray her. But isn't that exactly what she'd done to him? First, by leaving and not reaching back for him until it was too late. Yet, she thought she'd atoned for that by taking his case pro-bono and using every tool in her toolbox to get him off lightly while his colleagues spend the rest of their lives behind bars. She was there for him when he got out, with a job, an apartment, a new life for him waiting.

Then again, there was the destruction of his friendship, his trust, with Abby. Using him to break up her relationship with David. That was something else. Above and beyond, they were no longer even at that point. She owes him.

"Don't worry about it. I'm handling it." Olivia Pope speak for leave it alone.

She sighs, knowing what he's thinking and he's right. They are a team and he deserves to know what's going on. "It was someone in my inner circle." She takes a deep breath before revealing the rest. "It was Harrison."

He nods to himself. Not whom he expected. Her voice tells the story of her pain, so he presses no further.

"When's your press conference?"

"Nine."

"I guess you should get going."

"I should."

They hold the phone, listening to the silence. This is them, the quiet in the storm. And they're fine with that. They're perfect. "Bye."

"Bye." She hangs up first, and just stares into space.

There's a storm raging outside of her office building with hundreds of reporters hoping to get a glimpse. Every television station flashes her picture, as though she can be defined by an image in time. She is the butt of radio jokes. Yet, none of it matters.

There is the matter of her father. Of what had to be done today, yet she still does not cry. Even in the silence without prying eyes peaking at her does not shed a tear. The world is better off without him; she is better off without him.

There is the matter of B613, and what to do. It isn't something that dies just because the leader is gone. Someone will wake up tomorrow and try to reach him. They will not be successful. Someone tomorrow will go to The Compound to search for something, anything pointing to his whereabouts. When they don't find him, they will destroy his file and all evidence of his existence. By tomorrow night, there will be someone else in charge and B613 will live on. It's the way things work in Washington; get rid of one evil today and another one will grow in its place tomorrow.

Mellie isn't used to be ignored. Not like this. Sure, Fitz acts as though she doesn't exist, but that's just as well. She probably hates him as much as he hates her, but lately, his disrespect has reached another level.

He drove her to reveal his affair. Forced her hand. She gave him an opportunity to stop her, but he was too in love, too into whatever it is she put on him to make him completely lose his mind. She doesn't know what makes him think she'll go quietly.

When the news broke in the morning, she was upset. It was her card to play and someone beat her to the punch. For a moment, she thought it may've been him, or her, because she's really the brains behind the operation.

She knew something was up the night before when he lay his head in her lap. He has a tell. A slight smirk that no one else would notice. But she saw it the minute he walked in the room. She let him go ahead and think he was fooling someone, but really, her wheels were turning, already working on ways to make him pay while maintaining her position in the administration.

All day the White House halls were eerily quiet. She'd expected a flurry of activity. What it meant, she didn't know. Perhaps an air of defeat was seeping through the walls. An air of resignation.

She stopped by Cy's office. Looked inside. He had his head in his hands, which was the most devastating vision of all. Tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned, hair standing in all different directions; he was broken. Alone and broken.

She knocked on the door. Once. Twice. By the third knock he simply motioned for whomever it was to come in without even looking. She looked in his eyes and without words he knew she was asking if it was over and he nodded in ascent.

She left. Went back to the bedroom and sat. To think. Which is where she finds herself now, wondering how in the hell she let it get to this point.

She can blame a number of people for their current predicament. There are the obvious, Fitz and Olivia. There's Cyrus for not putting a stop to it. White House gossip machine for letting the secret get beyond the sacred walls. Most of all, she blames herself.

People say things about her, hurtful things, but she's strong. She hears the harsh words, hears their laughter. The comparison to Jackie Kennedy as a joke, because of the way she dresses. It's what some like to call "old fashioned."

They say she's frigid and they can understand why Fitz would turn to someone as beautiful and sexy and smart as Olivia Pope. Somehow they think she's on his level and maybe she is, but it's Mellie who had to fight and claw to get them there. It's Mellie who had the drive and pushed him and pushed him until he believed he could be somebody.

But, the wife never gets credit, only the scorn. This isn't the life she wanted, or the life she wants. Her dream has always been to be President. That's not in the cards for a woman, not yet, so she accepted, accepts the role of First Lady, the consolation prize.

Soon, she won't have that. There will be calls for his impeachment. She will hang her head in shame and walk away in disgrace. This will be her legacy. This will be the end of her political career, before it even gets started.

So lost is she in her thoughts, she doesn't hear him enter the room. His presence only becomes apparent when the weight of the sofa shifts when he sits down.

"I'm going on television to confirm the report."

"And then what?"

"And then, I'm going to fight."

"What does that mean for me?" She meant to say us, but didn't bother to censor herself.

"Divorce."

I feel the need to explain my Harrison decision. I love the character, but there was a moment in episode 221 (think), when I got the feeling something was off with him. I don't know if "jealous" is the right word, but he and Olivia were in her office and he talked about how she was tethered to nothing. Olivia got in his face and told him to "get on it," referring to investigating the V.P. Then, an episode later she's outed? I thought it would be an interesting direction to go with this story.