Chapter 9
He hears the questions shouted at him as he leaves the podium feeling more in command than ever. He ignores them all. He's not certain, but he could sworn he heard reporters give a collective sigh of relief when he said the word "divorce". As he exits the room, he sees Cyrus with beads of perspiration dripping from his face, red with rage, veins bulging. For a moment, Fitz fears the older man may have a stroke. "Are you okay?" he asks cautiously.
"Am I okay? Mr. President, you just did the unthinkable. Plenty of presidents live unhappily ever after, that's what they do. Some may get a little piece on the side, it's not ideal, but we can deal with it. That's not good enough for you. You just threw it all away. Years of hard work, years of our lives down the tubes, right with your legacy. So no, I am not okay."
"Follow me."
Fitz and Cyrus make their way down several hallways as everyone around them is running to and fro, starting damage control. The President and his right hand walk right past them, ignoring the chaos; Fitz looking as though he doesn't have a care in the world and Cyrus looking as though he may vomit. Somehow, Fitz's calm demeanor settles all of them and their pace slows, the pressure is lifted because they take their cue from him.
Approaching the Oval Office, they hear the telephone ringing off the hook and see a harried Lauren as she tries to field all the calls. Fitz gives her a nod, a smile and mouths "I'm sorry," before he and Cyrus enter the Oval, closing the door behind them.
"With all due respect, sir, what the hell was that?!"
"It was just what it looked like. I'm getting divorced Cy." Fitz plops down on the sofa as relaxed as can be, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
"A little warning would have been nice. It would have given us time to poll it and plan and be proactive rather than re-active. Sir, you get to sit in this nice, comfortable office while the rest of us have to clean up the messes."
"And give you time to figure out how to sabotage it again? I've learned my lesson, Cyrus. So this is what I need you to do. I need you to inform the press office that they are to answer every question about my marriage and pending divorce with a 'No comment'. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Yes, sir."
"And then I need you to call Olivia, tomorrow, and coordinate the first fireside chat with her schedule. I want her here for that."
"Yes, sir."
"I want you to work with Mellie's office to ensure a smooth transition into Blair House and leak that to the press. If she wants to redecorate, take it from my personal funds, but make sure she can live there while it's under construction. I want her out of the White House, and that includes her staff."
Then, it happens. It could accurately be called the "Scream heard 'round the world". The sound of Mellie seeing defeat for the first time.
A commotion outside of the Oval Office, followed by raised voices and when the door flies open, all of the oxygen is sucked out of the room. Lauren looks at Fitz, practically in tears as she stands next to Mellie, who towers over her. Lauren's legs threaten to give out, so she reaches for the doorknob, using it to help her stand. She waits, hopes and waits for someone to speak.
"It's okay, Lauren. Cyrus, you stay."
"Sir," Lauren says as she closes the door breathing a sigh of relief.
Mellie and Fitz stare at each other, neither making a move. Even from a distance, Fitz can tell some sort of liquid has rolled down her cheeks. He rolls his eyes. This is Mellie in full manipulator mode, her voice, he is certain, will crack when she finally opens her mouth to speak.
Mellie never thought he would do this to her. Fitz is a talker. Has always been a talker and in some ways, that's what makes him a great politician. It's the people around him who act, and she's always had a "source" within his inner circle to keep her posted. This is something he did on his own. She was blindsided. There's no use in arguing with him, or trying to get him to change his mind. She has to outmaneuver him.
"Twenty plus years and three children and this is what it's come to? This is how I learn my husband is divorcing me?"
"I told you before that I wanted a divorce, but you refused to let it happen. Somebody had to do something, so I did. I'll be fair in the settlement."
"That's not the point, Fitz. I have been your friend-"
"You were never my friend. You were part of a business deal with my father."
"Your partner-"
"Mellie, I needed to appear a certain way for my political career. You helped me with my image. That was the extent of our partnership. Let's not humiliate each other any further. You want a political career? I'll support you in that. You want to go back and practice law? I'll help you. I just won't be your husband. You should be happy about that."
Mellie never wanted a career in politics or one in law. What she has always craved is power and Fitz is taking it away from her, like he has the right. She too has suffered by living in a loveless marriage. She too has made sacrifices, so what is she supposed to do without the title? Without the appearance of perfection?
"Mellie, make no mistake, you have no choice in the matter. I will have my attorney contact your attorney and we can do this quietly and fairly."
"What about the children?"
"They stay with me. From here on out, do not contact me directly. Our representatives will speak. I'm not going to go through this play-by-play with you. We're getting divorced, end of story."
"I'm sure Olivia is happy about it."
"Cyrus will be in touch with your office about Blair House."
"I'm not finished."
"I am. Close the door behind you."
Cyrus, who has been silently watching the former first couple, realizes, finally, he has lost his hold over the president. All these years he has underestimated Fitz, thinking he could treat him like a puppet and control his every move. The man behind the president. Mellie thought the same and look where she is now. If he is not careful, he will suffer the same fate.
"Mr. President, I will contact Mellie's staff and I will call Olivia. Anything else?"
"Yes, Cyrus. Stop trying to sabotage my life. I'm aware of what you've been doing and that stops. Now. My personal life is my personal life. Do not cross that line ever again or I will throw your ass out of here."
Cyrus freezes. He won't dare speak; the wrong words will land him on the streets. He thinks of how close they were to achieving the goals he set. Of how his dreams nearly came true, but this President had to fall in love with the wrong woman. It will destroy him, both of them, and he doesn't seem to care.
He looks around the Oval Office. It was his hard work that got them there. His sleepless nights and unseen tears that gave them an edge on the competition. His eyes settle on the man sitting across from him, the picture of calm. The man they knew could be king. He had the looks and integrity to take them all straight to the White House and he did it. They did it. Just as quickly, he's willing to throw it away for something as fleeting as love.
The younger man's eyes never waver from his. There's a part of Cyrus that envies him. Cyrus has never been relaxed or at peace; he's always searching for the fire to put out before it can even get started. He doesn't get to take deep breaths or time to appreciate the victories, no matter how big or how small. Fitz, after a lifetime of what could be considered abuse at the hands of his father, and pursuing dreams that others had for him, is doing things his way.
"Cyrus, is there something you want to say?"
"Sir?"
"You're looking at me like I've grown a third eye. Is there something you'd like to say?"
"No."
"Good, then get home. We have a busy day ahead tomorrow," Fitz says as he stands and prepares to leave his office.
Cyrus will not sleep easily tonight, as his mind will race through the disaster that he sees as his future. He will go home to a husband with a million questions or more, and a daughter who is growing up too fast and without his presence. He will go home to what passes as his life, only to think of his real life, this White House and politics, and how it will all end.
Fitz, on the other hand, will rest peacefully, every wrinkle on his face smoothed by determining the direction of his life and not letting others do it for him. He will likely sneak out of the White House to spend time with the woman he loves. She will ask questions, a million or more and she will be his partner, not his adversary, not a source for a career move.
He does the only thing he can think of doing at this moment; he extends a hand to his boss, his President, his friend. Though he doesn't believe in the President's decision, he has no choice but to outwardly support it and when the load becomes too much to bear and the ship too heavy to avoid sinking; when every other option has been exhausted and there is no way to save everyone onboard, he will grab a life preserver and save himself.
The two men shake hands, each wary of the other. They look into each other's eyes and Fitz, to his dismay, sees the wheels turning in Cy's head. He is no friend. He drops his hand and hits him on the back, just hard enough to send a message. "Goodnight, Cy."
"Goodnight, Mr. President."
When he gets off the elevator in Olivia's building, dressed in a pair of jeans and casual sweater, wearing a light overcoat, he no longer feels like the President of the United States. He's just a man visiting the woman he loves. He has a key to her apartment, but he's never used it; never feeling worthy enough to use it. He contemplates using it tonight, but decides against it since they're still "technically" in the courting stage.
He's nervous, fiddling with the hem of his sweater, smoothing wrinkles that don't exist, picking at invisible lint. At one point, he even moves to twist his wedding band and smiles when his fingers only make contact with more skin, no metal. He knocks softly, stands straight, then leans against the door jam, thinking it a relaxed look, only to return to his full height.
He hears her bare feet pad across the living room floor. If a face could break from just a smile, his would do just that. When she opens the door, his breath catches; it's like he's seeing her for the first time and from her expression, it's clear she feels the same.
He only tears his eyes away from her when he hears Melissa's heels approaching the door. A polite nod. She squeezes past with a playful, "Mr. President."
"Melissa."
As soon as the door closes behind them, he picks Olivia up and spins her around. It is their first taste of freedom, a carefree minute to "be" without stress or worry. To be two people in love and happy before the maelstrom of tomorrow rears its head.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," she says.
Tears of joy threaten to fall from the corners of her eyes, but being who she is and a few deep breaths later, the tears have dissipated. He takes off his coat, tossing it in a nearby chair, as he's done each time he's visited. They stand in her living room, he, in his casual attire and she, in silk pajama bottoms and a cashmere sweater; a regular couple, under a spell in a world of their own.
She extends her hand to him, and leads him to her sofa, where neither leaves space between them. "So, you're keeping secrets from me now?"
"Didn't you once tell me there needed to be a Chinese wall between us?"
"But this affects me too."
"Yes, but it's about me. If I had told you, we both know you would've tried to stop me 'for my own good'. Now I'm taking care of what's good for me and divorcing Mellie is the first step."
She knows when to push and when to leave it alone. So, she leaves it alone. "How'd Cy take it?"
"I still don't trust him."
"Do you want me to have my people keep an eye on him?"
"I've already got someone on it, but thank you."
"Do you need-"
"You know what I need, Liv?"
"What?"
"I need this night to be just you and me. No divorce talk. No planning. You can start that tomorrow. I want it to be us tonight."
"Okay." They sit in silence as the minutes pass and the tension to do something builds. She leans over and kisses him passionately. Her kiss tastes like wine and popcorn to him, combined with the unique sweetness that is only Olivia Pope. He cannot get enough as he hears the words spoken through her tongue, the slight pressure from her lips to his, her breath tickling him. It says, I love you and I'm here for you and we are one. His hands find their way to her hip and move up and down in such a soothing manner.
He pulls away before they can get carried away, much to her surprise. "You don't want me to think you're easy, do you? I mean, is this even our second date?"
"You were serious about this whole dating thing, weren't you?"
"Absolutely. I want to do right by you, Livvie. Finally." He gives her a peck on the lips, punctuating the last word.
The rest of their night is spent in relative silence. The comfortable kind because they are enough for each other. There is no burden of work or life; it's just them. She's wrapped in his arms and he's holding her tight enough to make her feel safe and warm.
There are things they both know need to be said, discussions to be had. Secrets to be told. Questions to be asked and answered. In all the time they've known each other, and been together, which, when strung together, doesn't amount to much time at all, their pasts are very much a mystery.
It's nearing three in the morning when Olivia looks up at Fitz and he smiles down at her. He kisses the tip of her nose, and loosens his grip on her. She stands and extends her hand to him, leading him to her bedroom.
She gives him a few minutes to himself while she does her nightly routine, knowing he'll just stand in the doorway and watch her. He's seen it countless times, the way she is so specific about how she treats her skin and hair before she goes to bed, but he'll never tired of watching her.
She washes her face with cold water and black soap she buys from the streets of New York, not the expensive stuff they sell in the stores where she buys her clothes. She blots her skin dry with a fresh, clean towel. Next, she adds a thin layer of shea butter.
She starts to brush her hair, but he takes the brush from her and does it himself. He runs his fingers through the shiny silkiness, inhaling the mango and strawberry scent of her stylist's shampoo, the brand she keeps only for Olivia. He reaches over her, grabbing her satin cap from the counter, and fitting it on her head, kissing her neck when he's finished.
They go into the bedroom, where he removes his shoes and sweater, leaving his jeans and t-shirt on. She watches as he lays on top of the comforter, and follows his lead, snuggling close to him, draping her leg around his.
There are nights when they need to physically be as close as two people can be to soothe and settle each other. There are nights when they need to bounce ideas back and forth, to solve problems or plan their next steps. Then, there are nights like this when they just need the quiet calm that they give each other. When the sun begins to make its presence known in a few hours, the real world will creep back in and they will have to deal with the repercussions of his decision. For now, there is just this moment. Just them. Just their love.