He got me good, she thought, I'm such a fool.

Mellie's mind was racing, a flood of emotions filling her body – anger, resentment, confusion, but mostly embarrassment. She was embarrassed that she had let herself believe that her husband would ever choose her over Olivia Pope. Mellie was a complicated, broken, manipulative, controlling, damaged woman and Olivia, she imagined, was completely the opposite. In what world would a man with the choice of any woman he wanted, choose her? Yes, she was angry that Fitz had directed the paparazzi to follow them on their walk in the woods, but she was angrier with herself for believing any of it had been real. She had known all along that Fitz had meant for this trip to be all about publicity, but after yesterday she thought that he might have changed his mind, called the press, canceled the photo ops. She hadn't been thinking about her and Fitz' image when she had kissed him, and she had thought that Fitz wasn't thinking about any of that either…she had been wrong.

Taking Fitz' phone with her, she returned back to the porch. Fitz was still fast asleep on the swing, his knees curled up and his hands under his cheek like they always were when he slept. This time, it didn't seem so endearing. She fought the urge to chuck the phone at his perfect face. She fought the urge to yank him up by his beautiful head of curls and force him to read the texts from Olivia and demand a response. She fought the urge to scream his name at the top of her lungs and startle him out of his adorable little slumber. She hated that she loved him so much. She wanted him to hurt like she was hurting now.

Instead, Mellie returned to the house, grabbed a piece of notebook paper from Fitz' briefcase and wrote Fitz a note. It crossed her mind briefly as she grabbed a pen that she might be overreacting, but at this point she was too worked up to think rationally. With her hand shaking, she put the pen to the paper.

Fitzgerald,

Bravo! I did not know you were such a talented actor, honey.

When you wake up…call Olivia. Explain the situation to her. She saw the tabloids and rightly so, she is furious. After you tell her it was just a hoax for the press, you can head back to the city. I'm going to take a walk around the property and when I get back later this morning, I don't want to see any trace of you. Don't worry about what I told you yesterday. I lied. I made it all up. You have no ties to me. No obligations.

Mellie's whole body was shaking now as she wrote the letter and tears were falling onto the paper without her noticing or caring. After she signed her name, she placed Fitz' phone beside the paper and slipped out into the dark morning still wearing her white, silk robe.

XXX

For the second time, Fitz woke to emptiness beside him. This time he didn't worry. He pictured his wife in the kitchen making some burnt breakfast for the two of them and grinned. The sun was beginning to rise over the tops of the trees and Fitz took a moment to soak in the beauty of it. He was so surprisingly at peace. He smiled to himself at the realization that despite everything that had happened yesterday, he was more content than he remembered being in a while.

Fitz continued to savor the moment until out of the corner of his eye he saw two of his secret service men coming up the trail to the lodge.

"Mr. President," one said calmly as they approached the steps.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Fitz greeted, getting to his feet.

The two men exchanged uncomfortable glances, then the other one spoke, clearly far more on-edge than the first. "Sir, we've been following Mrs. Grant since she left the lodge this morning, she's been walking for hours. We've tried to approach her but she insists on being left alone. She has the right to waive our protection…so we had to leave, Mr. President…"

Fitz furrowed his brow in confusion, not quite grasping what this man was saying, "What do you mean, since she left this morning?"

The men exchanged a glance again and the calm one took this one. "She left the lodge at 0400, sir."
Fitz was still confused, "Well, did you ask her why? What did she look like? Is she okay?" The men hesitated and Fitz blood started to boil, "For Christ's sake, I shouldn't have to be asking these questions, you should already be telling me!"

"She left at 0400, sir, she was still wearing her nightgown and she looked distraught, sir, that's why we followed," the nervous one answered.

"Distraught?" Fitz was already moving into the lodge to grab his coat and shoes before they even replied.

"She'd been crying, sir," the calm one replied as they both rushed to follow him.

Fitz swore under his breath, "Where's my phone?"

"In the kitchen, Mr. President."

Fitz rushed into the kitchen, somehow managing to put his shoes and coat on in the process. He noticed the note immediately and quickly recognized his wife's handwriting. He read it hastily and swore again. He wasn't sure exactly what the note meant, but he didn't have time to check Olivia's supposed text messages and it didn't really matter anyway. What mattered was that his wife was out roaming around in the woods alone. He knew she was a grown woman and could handle herself, but the fact that she hadn't taken the time to get dressed and that she had been crying worried him. When Mellie was in that state of mind, she didn't always make the best decisions.

Fitz grabbed one of her jackets and started dialing her phone number.

"Maybe she'll answer for me," he told no one in particular. Mellie's phone rang from their bedroom and Fitz swore again, "God dammit, Mel," he said loudly as he jogged down the front steps and onto the trail. The retreat was 120 acres and Mellie could have been anywhere. The note had said "a walk around the property." Thank you honey for being so clear, he thought.

Fitz' two security details followed him into the woods and listened as he barked directions, "Call a couple more men down here, I want a few more bodies looking for her. Where's the last place you left her?"

"We left her near Laurel Lodge, sir, she was heading West, simply following the trail, sir," the calm one said.

"Mellie doesn't do anything simply," he said, "but let's head that direction…and have the other men cover ground on quads. It'll be more efficient."

Fitz started jogging as his men dictated his directions into their radios.

"Mellie!" He started calling. He felt very silly suddenly, as if he might be overreacting. But his wife was upset and all he wanted to do was find her. If someone had asked him he wouldn't have been able to explain it…but he knew something was wrong.

Twenty minutes into his search, Fitz reached the 2-mile mark on the trail where it split into a fork. To the right was Laurel Lodge, where his men had supposedly left Mellie. He took that path and continued to call his wife's name.

"Mel!"

"Fitz?"

He stopped in his tracks. He had heard Mellie's voice up ahead. He picked up the pace and trekked forward, "Where are you, Mel?"

"I fell!" he heard her cry, "Down here!"

To be continued…