Chapter 10
The sun doesn't shine today. It is darkness that creeps through the slats of the blinds. The symphony of chirping birds and garbage trucks are drowned out by the pouring rain and distant thunder rolling closer and closer, until it's ready to devour anything in its path. A January thunderstorm in the nation's capital is a rare occurrence, but nothing in the city these days seems remotely close to normal.
She hears the rustling next to her, and feels the shift in weight as he leaves what is becoming their bed. She feels his lips as they pepper her face with kisses, lingering on her temple, and his arms as they pull her closer. She pretends to sleep, dreading what lies ahead. This is a departure from their morning routine. No playful lovemaking or long uxurious showers; there is too much at stake to lose focus.
She doesn't watch him leave this time and when she is certain he has left, her eyes pop wide open. Two words have been on her mind all night: what's next? She is terrified of what lies ahead for him, of public opinion, legacy, legislative power, most of all, she is terrified of what will happen to his relationship with his children. All because of her. Certainly, there is her own guilt that goes along with the terror, but she's been asking herself lately, "Why can't I get a shot at happiness?"
By the time her gladiators arrive, she has already checked many items off her to-do list, including writing part of the State of the Union address, clearing her schedule for the first fireside chat and contacted Justice Jeffries' office to schedule a meeting with him, which she knows he will politely decline. When she has a moment to breathe, she turns her attention to Fitz and their future.
She would be lying if she said she wasn't afraid of what's to come, beyond his career. It's not something she's spent much time thinking about, but here in her office as she works to close yet another case that mirrors her personal journey, she can't help thinking about them as a couple. Stolen moments and distant, unrealistic dreams are one thing; reality is quite another. She's seen so many couples seemingly made for each other fall apart with time and togetherness, failing to love actively. She saw it with her parents and she still bears the scars of the irrational arguments and escalating violence.
She shakes off the thought. She and Fitz are different, and while Cyrus joked about being "made for each other," they truly are. She believes it, but every now and then, probably too often, doubt creeps in and in the past, she's let those doubts lead her astray.
He may never ask for her help with this, fixing the divorce, but he will need her. She's jotted down a few thoughts based on her brainstorming session with Melissa the night before, but she knows they haven't really scratched the surface of Mellie's capabilities. Mellie is, at this point, a wounded and desperate animal and no matter how much game planning she does, they do, they will not be ready for what will come down on them.
Fitz's first call is to his attorney and she answers so quickly, he knows she was expecting him. "This is Melissa."
"It's Fitz."
"POTUS, how are you?"
"I couldn't be better. Thanks for last night, by the way."
"It was my pleasure. The paperwork is ready to be filed. I just need you to review them and give me the okay."
"Okay."
"What?"
"I trust you. I'm giving you the okay. I want out of this marriage."
Fitz is an idealistic man, though some mistake his idealism for naiveté. He knows it's not going to be a simple signature and a happily ever after. Not with Mellie involved. It will be long and arduous, a series of moves and counter-moves until a winner can be declared.
"I will file today, but you have to be ready. Have you talked to Liv about helping?"
"I don't want this to touch her."
"Unfortunately, it's going to touch her every which way possible," she begins, hearing Fitz chuckle on the other end, "in a non-sexual way. Get your mind out of the gutter. Anyway, you will need her services, so I would advise you to put her on retainer."
"What are our other options?"
"There are no other options," she sighs loudly. "Why don't you want her involved?"
He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He could give her a million example of why he doesn't want her involved, but the simplest one is if he does, she will leave when things look their bleakest. She will say it's for the best and she doesn't want to cost him his presidency, refusing to acknowledge that her absence in his world will cost him his life.
It's so clear and simple to him, but it's something he can't explain to most people. They don't understand the love that he and Olivia share; they cannot comprehend its power. Hell, even he can't. This is a song and dance he knows the steps and notes to very well, a song and dance he is unwilling to repeat.
"Fitz?"
"I'm here."
"She is the best and you need her. What if I am the wall?"
"What?"
"What if I hire her and leave you out of it? We work well together and know each other."
"Fine."
"Fitz, you won't lose her. Trust me to make this work for you. It's the best of both worlds. I know Olivia and there is nothing worse than feeling helpless. She'll get to provide the help you need without having direct ties to the White House."
They exchange a few more strategic words about how the day will unfold once she files. Mostly, they discuss Mellie, whose attorney was on the phone making demands to Melissa bright and early that morning. She already has a sense of how it will play out with Fitz giving inch after inch, and Mellie moving the goalposts. She isn't going to play this game with Mellie or her attorney.
For Melissa, this is personal. She isn't simply helping out a friend who helped her during her darkest days; Fitz has become a part of her family in a way. Letting him down, failing, is not an option.
When Melissa graduated from law school near the top of her class, she had visions of being courted by a high powered law firm. After all, she checked two boxes off the diversity form, African-American and female, not to mention her grades, but her telephone was oddly silent. The visions of returning home to Chicago as a woman who could lift her family out of poverty, seemed like a distant dream that would never be realized.
When she was nearing bottom, it was Fitz who sat with her all night as she ran through her limited options. She had offers, but they weren't the kind of offers she expected, or even wanted to take. They were bridges to nowhere; in the meantime jobs that were destined to become her life.
So, when he suggested opening her own firm, she could only laugh. She was drunk and was at a point where she didn't believe in dreams much anymore. But, he was serious, offering seed money and a few clients in the form of friends who managed to get themselves into sticky situations.
When she accepted, he wrote her a very large check that was more than enough to cover her expenses for the first year of operation, and promised to provide more if that's what she needed. He believed in her in a way that no one else did.
She owes her life to Fitz, so this isn't just any case. It is her way of paying him back; her way of thanking him for giving her a hand up. This is personal.
"I'll call Olivia today. Is there anything she should know?"
"Everything, except the house in Vermont. Don't tell her about that."
"Have I told you you're a good man, Fitzgerald Grant?"
"If I was such a good man, I wouldn't have screwed it up this badly."
"If you weren't a good man, you would have kept having your cake and eating it too. For what it's worth, you're doing the right thing."
"Thank you, Melissa. It means a lot to have someone in my corner."
Still no call from Justice Jeffries, but plenty of calls from Cyrus, all with varying degrees of panic in his voice. She doesn't answer the telephone, knowing exactly what he'll say to chip away at her self-esteem. She keeps her head down and pretends to work, when all she can think of is him.
Just then, her phone rings, snapping her from her thoughts. "What?"
A long silence followed by a quiet "Miss Pope?"
"Justin?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm just...I don't know if it's appropriate...but...um...he called my mother."
She sits up straighter. "Did she take the call?"
"No, ma'am."
"Good. Where are you now?"
"I'm at home."
"Can you meet me at your father's office?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She's been to the Supreme Court building several times during the course of her career, as a law clerk and as a professional fixer, but never has she visited a Justice in his territory. It's not her preferred method of operation. She likes to catch her enemy off guard and out of their space, grabbing the upper hand early.
When she arrives, she finds Justin pacing outside of the courthouse, nibbling on his fingernails. He looks so young to her, so vulnerable, so lost. When she walks up to him, she touches his shoulder, instantly startling, then calming him, and she smiles as she watches one cross his face.
"You okay?" she asks, in the most soothing tone possible.
"I'm okay."
She runs down her plan to him. He is not to say a word. He is to sit and watch every expression his father makes, never taking his eyes off him. Her experience, she tells him, is that people wither under the watchful gaze of someone they've wronged. And he has been wronged time and time again, something she promises will stop soon.
When they enter the reception area of Justice Jeffries' office, there's an instant chill in the air as his receptionist, Molly, looks up and appraises them from head to toe. She very politely asks, "How may I help you today?"
Olivia motions for Justin to sit in a nearby chair as she walks closer to Molly. "I'm Olivia Pope and I'm here to see the Chief Justice."
Molly pretends to look at his calendar, already knowing there is no appointment scheduled with Olivia Pope. It's for show, as she's learned through years of working there, most things inside the hallowed institution are for show. "I'm sorry, I don't see you on his calendar."
"That would be because I don't have an appointment, but I'm sure he'll want to see me."
"I'm more than happy to take down you information and ask him to call you at his convenience."
"I've left a message, two, in fact, and he has not returned my calls."
"Court is in session-"
"Not today."
"But he has a lot of preparation to do for the next case. I'm sure-"
"What's your name?"
"Molly."
"Molly, I know you're just doing your job and please understand me when I say I am doing mine. This is not personal, but it is urgent. You see that gentleman over there?" Olivia asks, pointing to Justin.
"Yes."
"His name is Justin. He's a nice looking guy, isn't he? Sweet, intelligent, credible."
"I guess."
"I'm sure the Chief Justice wouldn't want that nice looking guy, who is sweet, intelligent and credible to hold a press conference announcing his relationship to him, along with the evidence to support his claim."
The room is uncomfortably silent for everyone except Olivia, who is used to this. She watches Molly, whose eyes dart back and forth from Justin to Olivia and back, as she tries to figure out what to do next. Olivia taps her fingernails on the desk in a rhythmic pattern she can see is annoying to Molly because it sounds too much like a countdown.
Molly clears her throat and mumbles, "He's in the dining room."
"Thank you so much. Don't worry," Olivia says over her shoulder, "this stays between us."
His fork is almost to his mouth when he hears the unmistakeable and annoying clicking of a pair of quickly approaching heels. His back is to the door and he doesn't want to turn around. Not that he knows it is the Olivia Pope, but he knows his lunch is about to be interrupted. He sticks his knife in his steak, medium rare, and sets down his fork as he turns and meets her penetrating stare. He shivers.
She doesn't ask to sit down as she takes the seat nearest to him. Neither does Justin, who sits on the other side of him, sandwiching him between them. He can feel the color draining from his face and his poker face falter, as she stares at him; they both stare at him.
"You're not returning my phone calls."
"And you are?"
"We're not going to do this. You know exactly who I am. You know exactly who he is. Let's skip the games. You're going to tell the world you are his father, or we will. Your choice."
"Ms. Pope," he begins, his voice as sweet as can be, "with all do respect, I am a Supreme Court Justice."
"I don't care who you are. This man grew up without a father because you thought you career was more important. This man grew up not knowing half of his heritage, because your career and appearances were more important. You rose through the ranks on a lie. What would the conservative movement say about that?" She is met with silence. "This is your opportunity to do right by him."
"Is this conversation being recorded?"
"No."
He turns his attention to Justin, who has been silent throughout the exchange. "It was a different time, Justin. We couldn't...it wasn't acceptable. You can't think I wanted to let you go. I loved your mother. I loved you. Ask her. She'll tell you how I tried."
Olivia can see the moment of doubt cross Justin's face as he blinks a couple of times, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "You loved her? But you didn't love her enough to take care of the child you had together?"
"I took care of him. Who do you think cleaned up the messes he made? I made sure he could go to the finest schools. I made sure he was taken care of financially."
"Should we applaud you for that?"
"Ms. Pope, you have no idea-"
"We make choices. You made yours. Here's your chance to do the right thing. It's not about money; Justin has never wanted your money. All he wants is his father to acknowledge him and maybe then you can work on your relationship."
"You make it sound so easy. I've worked damn hard and I've made sacrifices, and you're going to take that away from me?"
"You have 24 hours."
Once Olivia drops Justin off at a safe house with armed guards and strict instructions to update Huck every hour, she returns to her office. It's quiet there. She's not sure what everyone is doing, nor does she care. She just wants time to catch her breath.
Harrison comes in just as she's kicking off her shoes. "Liv, you okay?"
"I'm fine. What's up?"
"I heard back from the agency. Everyone is set for tomorrow."
"Great, thank you."
She checks her e-mail and responds to a couple of messages before Abby enters. "Hey, is it okay if I leave? David wants to check out this new restaurant-" Olivia doesn't hear the rest as she nods and watches Abby practically float away.
She checks her phones for any messages, when Quinn enters. "Hey."
"Hi Quinn."
"Um, you look kind of sad. I know I talk fast, and a lot, but I'm a pretty good listener."
"I know you are, but I'm fine."
"Pretty big news about the President, huh?"
"Yes, it is."
Quinn sits across from Olivia for a few moments, as though she expects her to say more, but when she is met with more silence, she gets up. "I guess I'll get going then."
"Goodnight, Quinn."
Olivia doesn't know how much time has passed, but the next time she looks up, it's dark outside. Everyone has left except for Huck, who never leaves before her. "Incoming," she hears him shout as she quickly puts on her shoes and prepares to greet her guest.
The heavy footsteps are the dead give away, followed by the clunky heels. Mellie.