Olivia Pope was no fool. Had she done foolish things? That was a given. Everyone made mistakes from time to time. And her mistakes were, admittedly, bigger than most. But that did not make her a fool. She didn't become one of Washington's rising stars, at her age, by being a fool and she certainly hadn't become Press Secretary by being a fool.
She didn't make mistakes often.
Her shock when she walked past Kennedy's makeshift playroom to find a breaking news headline across the screen and a zoomed-in photograph of Kennedy and Fitz from their Maine getaway was genuine. The photograph from Camp David had been staged - Kennedy's features carefully hidden beneath the blanket Olivia had wrapped around her. This photo, one she had been unaware of until now, offered an unobstructed view of her daughter that the public had never received. A few stray curls were peaking out from beneath her navy wrap, probably knocked loose during one of her many deck runs.
It was a tiny miracle they hadn't gotten a clear shot of Kennedy's eyes.
Olivia sighed. This…this was not good. And it was entirely out of her control. It was not a feeling she was comfortable with. Locating Kennedy in the room, relieved that the little girl didn't seem to be paying the television anywhere near the same amount of attention she was giving her Barbies, Olivia searched for the remote and turned the television off.
Tiptoeing from the room, she quietly cracked the door behind her. Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she quickly found the contact she was searching for before holding the phone to her ear.
"Dad," Olivia breathed when her father answered.
"What happened to careful, Olivia?" Eli Pope chided over the line and Olivia huffed. No matter how she prepared herself for what was, inevitably, disappointment from her father, it would still leave a solid size chink in her armor. "Two photos in one weekend?"
"The first one was staged," she admitted.
"Trying to show the world a united family?"
"How…What…" Olivia stuttered, surprised for the second time that day. Her father didn't know. He couldn't know. If he knew, it would already have been all over the news.
"Don't act so surprised, Olivia." Eli's condescending tone was back. "When did Jake find out?"
"He doesn't know."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
Sometimes she hated how cryptic he could be.
"You have sold every piece of information since this happened, but you chose to keep, arguably, the most valuable to yourself? I don't buy that." She wasn't going to dwell on her father's words. She had promised herself long ago that she was done playing his games.
"Olivia," Eli tsked, "I'm not doing your dirty work for you. Yes, I've known from day one that you suddenly wanted to talk and tell me the sordid details that sent you running back to Fitz because you hoped I would keep the press informed. It was…amusing for a moment. I'm not amused anymore."
"Playing the saint? That's new."
"I don't have to play the saint to watch you ruin the man you believe you love. Goodbye, Olivia."
"Did you know?" Fitz demanded, spinning around and tossing the remote onto Cyrus's desk. The sound of the remote slamming into the wooden desk resounded loudly through the quiet room.
"TMZ posted it yesterday," Cyrus admitted, his gaze sliding to the magazines on his desk. "I saw it on twitter first. People published it today."
"And you didn't think to tell me? Kennedy could be…" He stopped himself, raising a fist to his mouth and beginning to pace the small room.
"Kennedy could be what, Mr. President?"
Fitz's pacing was short-lived as he stopped in the middle of the room to glare at his Chief of Staff. "You've had yourself buried in those fucking magazines for weeks now, Cy. I know you've heard what they're saying."
Fitz took one step after another forward until he was chest to chest with the shorter man. Looking down his nose at Cyrus, he asked:
"Is. She. My. Daughter."
"I believe, sir, her birth certificate lists Jake Ballard as her father."
Fitz frowned, exhaling sharply and spinning on his heel. Stomping back and forth in the small space before Cyrus's desk, he pulled at the knot of the red tie that hung around his neck.
"That doesn't answer my question." Pulling the offending material from his neck, he tossed it into the corner of the room - soon followed by the blue material of his suit jacket.
"That is the only answer that matters. Sir."
Fitz stopped in front of the wall, slamming his palm against the white wall, the stinging sound of his flesh connecting with the brick echoing.
"You fucking knew. This whole time, you knew and didn't tell me."
"Sir, it's for —-"
"Fuck you," Fitz cut him off, moving toward the door. "Fuck both of you."
Olivia ran down the hall. She had lost her heels somewhere, possibly a floor above, as they were doing nothing but hindering her. Between her phone call with her father and the time it had taken to find someone she trusted to watch over Kennedy while she stepped out, she had lost time. Precious time. Everything was moving fast. Faster than she had planned.
And she wasn't sure that her father hadn't been the one to notify the press this last time. He had been reliable since she had first taken Kennedy to the hospital. When her world had crashed down around her, she could rely on her father's need to one-up Fitz to drive him to release anything she told him to the press. It was the least he could do after what he and Cyrus had done to her. What they had done to Kennedy and Fitz.
At the same time, she hadn't told her dad about going to Maine until they were already back. It led her to believe that someone, somewhere had just gotten lucky. The only other person who knew was Cyrus and Cyrus had made it clear from day one that he did not want Fitz, let alone the American people, to know about Kennedy.
Whoever had gotten lucky, had done so at Olivia's expense.
She stopped by the Oval first. It was another blow in a long line of blows to discover that Fitz was not in his office. Instead, as his personal secretary so helpfully informed her, he had left for Cyrus's office earlier.
Outside of Cyrus's office, she met with her first resistance since unofficially moving into the White House. Cyrus's secretary initially denied Olivia access to the Chief of Staff, citing a meeting that Olivia hadn't recalled seeing on his schedule. Unfortunately for the man, Olivia was not above making a scene and, after a brief showdown, had been escorted into Cyrus's office by the man himself.
"What do you want, Olivia?" Cyrus's tone was anything but friendly as he flopped into his chair.
Olivia frowned. The whole office was a mess. Magazines and papers littered Cyrus's desk. A crumpled jacket lay tossed in the corner, although Olivia didn't want to know for how long since Cyrus appeared to still be wearing his. A glass of Scotch sat on the desk, causing her frown to deepen. It was a little early for day drinking.
"Fitz's secretary said he was here."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but he's not hiding under my desk." Cyrus gave a dismissive wave, indicating the only place in the office that could, conceivably, provide cover for a grown man.
"Have you seen him?" She tried again.
"He doesn't want to talk to us."
"When did he say that?"
"After finding out that I'm the bastard and you're the bitch who kept his daughter from him." Cyrus chuckled drily, reaching for his glass and gulping the golden liquor in a way that had Olivia flinching for him. "Turns out leaking your own stories backfired, didn't they?"
"You told him," Olivia accused.
"No. He didn't care to hear about that. I told you: if he ever knew about Kennedy, she would be the only thing that existed. So much to the presidency." Cyrus held his glass up in a mock toast before gulping the last bit.
"You can go now."
A/N - Out of curiosity, how many of you had picked Olivia as the mole? It was kind of fun hearing all of the guesses and I look forward to hearing everyone's guesses on how Cyrus and Papa Pope fit into Olivia's past and decision to raise Kennedy as Jake's daughter.
Until next time,
Gabi
