Chapter 8

On the Trail

"What is your endgame in all this? When you find out who Fitz is seeing…if he is seeing anyone…what are you going to do? He's cancelled the engagement. Do you think there is a chance he will change his mind? Are you out for revenge or do you want him back?" Joline questioned before popping a red grape in her mouth. She was never without a snack.

"What do you mean if he is seeing someone? We have already established that he is sleeping—" Mellie started, looking up from her laptop.

"We have not established anything. He has not admitted to it," Joline said, "and there is no hard evidence. But what are you going to do when you find out?"

"What exactly do you do at the public library?" Mellie said, closing her laptop. She walked around her desk and perched on the edge of it between her nameplate that read, Millicent F. Vanderbilt, District Attorney and a portrait of her with Fitz taken three years ago.

"I design and manage the educational programs, why?" Joline said.

"Would you be interested in supplementing what I imagine is a very meager salary by helping me?" She crossed her arms and waited confidently.

"What are you proposing? I barely make forty-five thousand dollars a year…a pauper by New York City standards. That is why I bartend on the side. Let me guess. You want me to find out who your ex is sleeping with, right? How am I supposed to do that? I am a lowly librarian whose closest stint at spying was sniffing out the kid who was lifting our mechanical pencils. Fitz knows I have been watching him and unless he is having an affair with the black guy in the wheelchair, this will be a waste of time. Not that I have a social life since I broke up with Rick. I could not get with the motorcycles—"

"Joline! Shut up and listen, okay?" She leaned back on the desk, picked up a white envelope, and extended it to Joline.

Joline took the envelope cautiously. "Go ahead, Joli, open it."

Joline shifted an eye to Mellie and then to the envelope. She opened it slowly and then removed each of the three items, and lining them up on her lap.

"Two receipts and an address scribbled on a scratch piece of paper?"

"Yes. I found these in Fitz's jeans pocket before he moved out. The receipts are dated for two of the days he was away. Look at the locations on the receipts and the address," Mellie said as she walked back to her desk and reopened her laptop.

"A receipt for Franklin's Ice Cream and Malt Shop in Princeton, NJ, and a receipt for a Chevron station in New Brunswick, NJ and the address, 2316 Albion Lane Princeton, NJ 08540…so…Fitz was in Princeton on assignment. He got a hankering for something sweet so he bought a small pistachio milkshake. He needed gas. This address could be for—"

"Stop trying to explain it all away. When he is on jobs for the Bureau, he never uses his personal credit card," Mellie said impatiently. "I know Fitz. He would not order a pistachio milkshake. He always gets a large vanilla and chocolate shake. I need you to connect the dots, Joline. I would do it myself, but I am working on this elder abuse case that is taking up all my time. Take two weeks off work and I'll pay you for your time and expenses. You'll have access to my skiptracers."

"You are really serious about this, aren't you? I would not want to be in Fitz's shoes right now. You say you know him like a book, but he definitely does not know you," Joline said.

"Stop sounding sorry for him. He is the one who betrayed me, but you are right, Joli, he obliviously does not know who he is fucking with," Mellie said before looking back at her laptop screen. Joline wished she knew what Mellie was planning, but she knew she would find out in due time.

"Liv, please do not plan one of your extreme parties for me this year. If you do, I will disown you," Timothy said, not looking up from his phone. He texted frantically, his thumbs rising and falling.

After another miraculous visitation of movement in his lower body, he began to accept the fact that parts of his body were waking up. One day, he was in the break room warming his lunch. Helen's boyfriend whom Timothy loathed was with him popping off at the mouth. He had a penchant for making disparaging comments about, well everyone. On this particular day, Tim had endured enough.

"So Tim, is everything down there paralyzed, I mean, can you get it up, if you know what I mean? Man, if I my junk wasn't operational, there would be no reason for living, especially when there are women out there like Helen who need to be handled, whew!" Ron said.

"Ron, man," Tim said whispering and looking around conspiratorially. "You have not heard of the paralysis bump?"

"No, what is that?" Ron asked totally focused on Tim now.

"Well you know when people lose one sense, their others are heightened…for instance if you lose your ability to see, your hearing gets better?" Tim explained. "Ron, I cannot move my legs, but dude, I may as well have a third damn leg because when it rises…it rises…it not only gets hard but it grows almost as big as…let us just say I could use three legged pants."

"Tim, You Are Lying! Oh, Damn! I did not know being handicapped had its privileges. There goes my phone. I have to get back for a meeting. I will catch you later," Ron said chuckling and slapping Tim on the shoulder.

Tim didn't like Ron, less because of his comments, but more because Helen was dating him. Without thinking, Tim lifted his leg, which made contact with Ron's leg, causing him to trip and take a dive. Ron tried to catch himself before he fell. His arm reached out to grab the table in the middle of the room. All that could be heard was a grunt, a crack, and a curse as Ron fell like a tree on the break room floor. Tim was shocked as he looked from Ron's writhing body on the floor and his right leg. It was bent at his ankle and frozen in space. He flexed it again and felt a spasm slice up his leg.

After that experience last month, he had discussed both incidences with his physical therapist, but not his doctor. He still held resentment and animosity at the medical profession in general for his misdiagnosis years ago. Since he was intent on not talking to his doctor, his therapist suggested that he spend time out of the chair to strengthen his muscles, especially those needed to hold him up in a non-wheel-chair.

Olivia walked up behind Tim where he sat at the head of the dinner table in a regular chair. "Who are you texting?" she said. She snatched phone from his hands and read aloud, 'Sitting here at a boring dinner thinking about you…' Tim! Who. Is. This? Do you have a girlfriend? Who is she?" Olivia beamed and her excitement was catching on. Quinn and Huck smiled. Fitz, who stood at the counter tossing a garden salad, chuckled at Olivia's excitement. It was reminiscent of the time she was carried away at Tim's use of his arms. Carefree times like this were rare with Olivia so he was captivated.

"Liv, give me the damn phone…Fitz would you get her?" Tim said.

"It is Helen Tate! I knew it," Olivia said. She placed Tim's phone down on the table and walked over to Fitz. "Fitz, did you know about this? Don't even answer that. I know you knew about it and did not breathe a word to me!"

"I plead the fifth on this one babe," Fitz said carrying the lasagna to the table. Olivia carried the salad and bread.

"Why am I becoming the last one to know everything? First Huck and Quinn keep their relationship a secret from me and now this?" Olivia frowned.

"Probably because you make such a big deal about everyone else's love life. Yes, Liv, Helen and I are hanging out...nothing more…nothing less. It is not serious. It turns out that we have a some things in common," Tim said.

"So she is as much of a geek as you are? It is a match made in heaven," said Olivia.

"What were you talking about earlier, Tim? You said you did not want Olivia to plan a party for you. What is the occasion?" Quinn said.

"Before you answer, let us pray. There are so many things to be thankful for today, my Romeo of a brother will do the honors," Olivia requested sweetly.

"We are praying now? Mom and dad will be happy to hear this. Okay. Bow your heads. God is great. God is good. We thank you for the food we are about to receive in Jesus' name. Amen," Tim said.

"Next Thursday is Timmy's birthday. I host a party for him every year. Since the accident and my…umm…occupation, the guests are mostly a handful, for obvious reasons, of friends of mom's and dads' but we always have a great time. Right Timmy?"

"Imagine how a dog feels when his owner dresses it up for Halloween? That about sums up how I feel at one of these parties. Olivia comes up with a corny theme and decorates the house. It always looks like the party store has thrown up all over the house. This year I request a small dinner with only the people gathered here and mom and dad of course," said Tim.

"That's right. Her parties are high definition," said Huck.

"Circumstances prevent us from having anything large scale, Livy," Fitz said passing the bread to Huck.

"No, babe. I have the perfect cover. I have had nothing but time to think about this. We will have a masquerade party this year. I have wanted to meet Helen for the longest time even before this great news today. Now I can meet her and some of your other friends at the Bureau," Olivia said.

Fitz reached for Olivia's hand and squeezed. "Livy, I am saying, no. Inviting federal agents around you and Huck would be just asking for trouble."

"No? You have not heard my idea in full. This will be a masquerade party with a strict mask only policy. We will have it in that large room upstairs so no one will be able to come into our individual apartments," Olivia said.

"So how are you going to be presented in relation to Tim and me?" Fitz said. He was humoring her because he was not convinced.

"I can be introduced as a friend of Tim's. You should be a guest just like everyone else. We can pretend like we are just meeting each other for the first time. Fitz? Timmy? You owe me this party. Aside from following Mellie, I have been good and stayed out of trouble, that won't last for long. We can talk about that later," Olivia said.

"What do you all think about this?" Fitz asked, looking around the table.

Olivia forked a serving of salad into her mouth and waited.

"Seems doable to me. If everyone will be masked, I do not see the harm in it," said Quinn. She took a sip of wine and winked at Olivia.

"We should control the guest list. I could watch the door and make sure no one enters that was not invited," said Huck.

"Tim, what do you think?" Fitz asked.

"I think my sister gets her way entirely too much," he Tim. His head was bowed over his phone, and he resumed texting.

After dinner was done, Huck found Olivia outside on the fire escape. She was looking out over the city. Her face held a wistful expression.

"I know that look Liv. What is wrong?" Huck asked.

Olivia turned to face him. "I had the same feeling, Huck?"

Huck did not say a word, but Olivia answered. She was experienced in reading his expressions.

"Tonight, when I found out about Tim and Helen, I felt pure joy and contentment. It was the same feeling I had that night at the bar when we were in college. That night, Timmy was entertaining everyone as usual. We were laughing and being complete idiots. In that moment I was complete…everything was perfect. Within an hour it was all taken away with the accident. I am scared because I felt like that tonight, Huck. Everything seems so perfect. I know it is not totally perfect. We are practically in hiding, but seeing all the progress Tim has made…having Fitz…which was a complete surprise. I am afraid of losing it all again, Huck," Olivia explained.

"Enjoy it Olivia. You deserve it," Huck said pulling her into a hug. He had sought Olivia out to discuss Abby's phone call, but he knew that now was not the time.

Later that night sitting at the kitchen table in front of his laptop, Fitz was very conflicted about the masquerade party. It seemed innocent enough and even doable like Quinn said, but he knew it was not a good idea.

"Fitz, baby, why are you in here siting in the dark? Put that laptop away and come to bed," Olivia said before a yawn.

"I'll be there soon," he said

Fitz began replying to a new e-mail from Cyrus. He saw a black painted fingernail appear on the top right hand corner of his keyboard, depress, and hold down the power button. He realized that Olivia was shutting down his computer.

"I guess this day was bound to come," Olivia said. She swung her leg over his lap, situating herself between him and the table. It was a tight fit.

"What day is that?" he asked, looking up at her while untying her robe.

"The day when my mere mention of bed did not give you an erection," she said. "I understand that this was bound to happen given your advanced age.

Fitz chuckled as he rubbed his hands over her body.

"Is something funny, Fitz?"

"Livy, Livy, Livy, you are so predictable. You are horny as hell tonight. You want it hard and fast. I know this because that little comment about my age is designed to whip me up into a frenzy to prove my virility to you. Baby, I have nothing to prove, but you are going to pay for that comment and for turning off my computer. It will be hard and achingly slow. I am going to make you beg," Fitz said. He rose from his chair and threw her over his shoulder. "I need some ice, the handcuffs, and a blindfold."

"Fitz, I was just joking…not the ice," Olivia said shivering as she remembered the last time he used ice.

"Did you talk with Olivia about Abby?" Quinn said. She and Huck were at her apartment in bed.

"No. It was not a good idea tonight. I will see her about it tomorrow," said Huck.

"Do you think Olivia will help Abby come back to the states? Should she after all that has happened? I guess Fitz would figure in the equation too. It is not just up to her," Quinn said, thoughtfully.

"I do not know. She sounded miserable over the phone," said Huck.

"She made her choice, Huck."

"I know you are right, but it is not as simple as that. She sounded sad and scared. I wonder what Harrison is up to?"

Quinn got on top of him. "I do not want to talk about Abby anymore tonight. Now kiss me."

Huck smiled and obeyed.

Today was a workday for Joline except that she was working for Mellie and not for the New York Public Library. She had researched the address Fitz had scribbled on the paper. The residence belonged to Lionel and Charlise Pope. Since that information meant nothing to Mellie, Joline decided to pay a visit to the house. She had to admit, she liked this type of work, the research, strategy, and planning. Unfortunately, she did not like spying on Fitz. He had been nice to her whenever a family gathering put them in the same vicinity. Mellie had been the indifferent, cold, and dismissive one. Joline had no doubt that she was getting close to connecting the dots to explain Fitz's sudden change of heart. But for Joline, the old adage held true, blood was thicker than water and Mellie's attitude towards her had improved dramatically.

Joline was drawn out of her thoughts by the white car that pulled out of the same driveway she was planning to turn into. Joline was unsure if the car held the Pope's, but she felt that she should keep following the car. She promised to come back to the house later.

The car did not go far. After about 5 minutes, it turned into the parking lot of Franklin's Ice Cream and Malt shop. Joline smiled because she was sure she had found her couple. She did not get too close to them. She looked at the receipt and confirmed that this was the address on one of Fitz's receipts. An African American man in his mid to late 60s exited the car first. He bounced around the car and opened the passenger car door. Out stepped a woman about the same age as the man. Joline was heartened as she saw them hold hands and walk into the shop. After an acceptable time, Joline entered the shop and sat in a booth behind them. She ordered a small pistachio milk shake just for the hell of it. She strained her ears hoping to hear their conversation.

They talked about current events, a movie they had seen, and plans to redo their kitchen. Joline was amazed at how much they had to talk about. She had yet to find a man who she could talk to like that. They must really be in love to have that much to talk about after what looked like a long time together, she thought.

Joline's ears perked up as the conversation became more interesting.

"She has outdone herself this time. A masquerade party? I cannot believe Tim agreed to this," said Lionel.

"Why not? They tease each other like kids, but you know Tim would do anything for his big sister. Olivia is no different. We need to find our costumes today. And come up with our code names. It is ridiculous that we cannot use our own names. Liv is taking this a little far, but that is our Liv," said Charlise.

"It will be fun. Do you think Harrison and Olivia will be tying the knot anytime soon?" Lionel said.

"You mean Fitz, honey. He prefers to be called Fitz," Charlise corrected. "They have been together three years already. It is only a matter of time. They obviously love each other," Charlise said. "It will happen soon.

By the time Joline left she had enough information to skip the return to the Pope estate. As she drove back to New York she began to construct a loose theory. Fitz was involved with someone named Olivia and had been for the last three years. These were her parents. Tim was her brother and possibly the guy in the wheelchair Joline had seen with Fitz. They were having a masquerade party for Tim for some reason. Fitz had not been on a job, but visiting his girlfriend. Wow! what an asshole! He has been cheating for three years or more. Joline knew that this information was going to hurt Mellie, but she felt that Fitz was the one who deserved her sorrow. Mellie was not going to be happy about this news and was going to want revenge.

"Thanks for your diligence in getting me the surveillance on Olivia Pope," the woman said to the man. "My client is very pleased."

"I am glad," he said.

"The client wants you to continue, but there is more the clients wants," the lady said.

"What is that?" he asked.

"It seems that Ms. Pope has amassed an extensive collection of art from her spoils over the years. It is stored in an underground warehouse. I will send you the address of the location as well as the code to access it. The client does not want the art touched. You only need to confirm that it is still there. Are their any questions?" she asked.

"No, I completely understand," he said.

"Great," she said. "My client will be very pleased."