Fitz had not felt this frustrated in years. He felt as though he was drowning. The sheer force of the media was too much for them to carry on the meeting with Olivia. Merely an hour after Congressmen Thump's speech, in the dead of the night, Olivia got dressed quickly, and was secretly escorted out the White House and to her out as soon as possible. But it did not work. They were waiting for her when she got home.

Baby, I'm home. Don't worry. He remembered her whispering over the phone wearily last night. He had officially assigned two Secret Service agents to her for her protection. After seeing the barrage of press outside of elegant townhouse that held her apartment, he worried, his heart thumping out of his chest with anger. When she had arrived, the press had been in her face, yelling crude questions. Watching the footage on television was a wrench in the beautiful night he had with her. All because of Thump….

He had no gotten any sleep. He had not felt this lost, despaired and sapped of hope since….

That dark night, that glorious night of years past was that was also supposed to end on a high note, with a celebration of his masterful RNC convention speech. Then being rushed to the hospital and seeing Mellie's mangled form had sapped happiness away from him. That was the last time he felt this hopeless. It was as if his mind had shut off, barring that normal political instinct to waddle out of chaos to go moot. He was shackled to his fear, nervousness and most importantly, his frustration.

Joyce had practically drowned today in the daily press briefing with questions ranging from whether he, Fitz would be seeking re-election still to if there was any chance of Olivia and him getting married.

And now, he was standing in the Oval Office, facing the windows discussing the findings of his pollsters, and coming to terms with the fact that his job approval rating was down to 50%. And apparently, according to Cyrus, the EEI overnight had gone from being two votes down to 25 votes down and the Dream Act may be shelved. This would have felt better if his pollsters had made the actual trek to the White House instead of faxing the information to Cyrus's office. But whatever.

"…and I'm hearing from the Hill that it could be worse by tomorrow." Cyrus finished quietly. Quiet did not even describe the feeling inside the room. More like the feeling of morose discomfort one felt when attending the funeral of stranger who had died tragically. Fitz turned around from the view of the snowy White House grounds to his greyed and exhausted staff. Even Joyce, normally vibrant and energetic with the kind of energy reserved for sugar addicted five year olds looked weary. Cyrus had never looked so grey, but Billy, Billy looked blank…

Fitz sighed and shrugged. "Well, we can maneuver this, all we need to do is call Rosen from Illinois, then we call Burke to get them in line-"

But Cyrus shook his head. "They said no Mr. President."

Fitz could not believe this. Since when did the caucus do this? He needed them!

"Well, how about we just gut the investments, hike up the amount of tax cuts-"

But this time, Joyce cut in. "Mr. President, AP is reporting that Burke is not willing to negotiate anymore."

"How about Stewart? He's popular with nut job wing."

"No-"

"Not that Stewart, the one from California!" Fitz said his voice hoarse with exhaustion but from the sympathetic looks on Cyrus and Joyce's faces he knew he was out of options. He had hardly run the map, but the damn lock on his brain, the one worried about Olivia, and whether she could even continue working in this town after the accusations would not let him. He knew the accusations were false. Did not believe them for a second. He believed her last night when she tearfully pleaded with him to believe she would never betray him.

Honey, I believe you-

I can't believe this! I cannot believe that they are doing this to us! How, who even.

This is a part of this world babe; this is what comes with this…

The look of hurt, humiliation in her eyes was unmistakable. He knew…deep in his soul, she was telling the truth.

"Sir, with all due respect we've done everything we can, but you have to consider-"Fitz was expecting the words to come brisk, forced and huskily, from Cyrus. The "I told you so" almost father like scolding he knew so well. But when it came from Joyce's feminine trill, he could not be more surprised. But her words had shocked him to the core, sweet, hardworking Joyce, who never questioned anything.

"Excuse me?" Fitz asked confused. Billy and Cyrus suddenly seemed to be shrinking into the background. Joyce's gangly frame, which was slowly building up confidence.

"Sir, with all due respect, we…" she coughed trying to get the girlish fear out of confronting Fitz.

"We need you to consider a few options, like for one, polling on your personal job approval and…Olivia Pope."

"Really?" Fitz asked, feeling a strange need to strangle something.

"Yes. We…we also need you to give a speech on this, confront it head on. I mean, yes you are going to run for re-election, but Thump is not joking. There could legitimately be a conservative revolt and we need to-"

"We don't need to do anything. What I need to do is focus on the needs of-"

"You are wrong Mr. President, and you know it!" She screamed. The air left Fitz's chest. What the hell?

"Joyce! You watch who you are talking to, this is the President!" Cyrus said angrily, his face turning beet red.

But she held her own, her face going from mere irritation to full on anger. "Yes! He's my President, not a king, not a lord and most certainly not my God. So I have a duty, a civic duty as an American, who works in these hallowed halls to question the very leaders I vote for and work for."

Her disposition was stunning to witness. All Fitz could do was stare at the young woman, so full of passion and conviction. How long had she been harboring all of this?

"Look." Billy started nervously. "300 million-"

"Fuck off, Billy!"

"Hey!"

"No! 300 million people rely on us every day! And what are we doing? Spinning bullshit! Nonsense! Talking about when the President has sex, if his girlfriend is using birth control! I took this job because I believed in you, Mr. President and you have a love, a deep love for this country deeper than any man that I know or have ever known. You were strong, heroic even when Mrs. Grant died. You've been a wonderful father and a wonderful man. I've watched you with Ms. Pope and you have behaved chivalrously, putting her needs in the forefront, being a better boyfriend to her than I've had in my whole entire life. So what does it say about you and this administration that 56% in a recent Gallup poll released before I stepped into this office are questioning your family values!"

The silence that overcame the Oval Office could not be overstated. It was gripping. Fitz felt his heart breaking as he watched Joyce spill out what had to be weeks of frustration. Weeks of worrying. How many of his employees, of the American people felt the way she did? How much of his role as leader of the free world had he abandoned for his own happiness?

"Joyce, you need to calm down-"Cyrus said trying to calm Joyce down. Fitz felt himself settling into the large leather chair breathing heavily.

"No!"

"Joyce." Fitz started quietly. "These polls are not about my presidency, they are about my life, speculation, made up nonsense. When you have guys like Thump-"

"Thump is the only one who has the gull to say what he feels. He may have spoken once, but he's waving the banner, and you better believe people in our party are going to be willing to-"

Fitz stood up. The blocker on his mind had suddenly come loose. Joyce's conviction had stirred something in him. He loved Olivia, yes. But he could not be paralyzed by it.

"Joyce, men have waved banners. Spoken with conviction, and lead armies. But those armies were lead to the gates of hell. I'm a man of my word. And I will not give into the lowest common denominator of our politics. I would give anything for my country. But what I will not give up are my values. So if you want to fight this battle, you are welcomed to follow. But I won't scorch the earth. Now are you in, or are you out?" He asked with a quiet intensity.

Joyce's red face, screwed up with rage, was unfolding slowly as she shook her head.

"Yes, Mr. President. I'm in."

Fitz smiled softly. He looked at Cyrus, who looked at back at him with a mix of surprise and pride. But when he looked at Billy, the same blank expression was still there. But when Fitz squared his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye, he saw something that he had not seen in years. Loathing….absolute loathing that over the years had melted into indifference. But now, the burning bright behind his eyes was unmistakable.

I guess I know who won't be on my side. Fitz thought as he tried come to terms with the seed that had been planted into his head. One that was slowly growing into branches of distrust.