There was a storm brewing over Washington. For once, it wasn't a metaphor. Dark clouds were rolling across the sky and the uptake in the wind had long ago rendered Fitz's hard won seat atop the metal roof unsafe. Still, he refused any attempt by the surrounding military personnel to convince him to retreat to the safety of the indoors.

He hadn't been much use to anyone in the last three days. Hell, he couldn't even be entirely sure that the government was still running. No doubt Cyrus was having a field day at the reigns, no oversight from Fitz. Who knew what he had probably signed in the blurry haze of the past three days.

A lightning strike filled the sky, illuminating the obscene, tall structure of the Washington Monument a couple blocks over. An obelisk in the middle of Washington. He'd always thought it was ridiculous. Part of him liked to think Washington would have found it ridiculous, too. Another strike of lightning, this time illuminating the close-cropped head of one of the Marines - a boy who didn't look a day over 18, making Fitz wonder just how the hell he had gotten this position.

"Mr. President." He spoke with brazen confidence, Fitz would give him that. "The storm is starting to roll in, sir."

Fitz fought the urge to roll his eyes. The storm wasn't starting to roll in - it was already here. The first time in nearly a decade that DC would be feeling the effects of a major hurricane. Maybe not quite as strongly as the coast of Virginia, where Hurricane Olivia (there was absolutely nothing ironic about that) was currently making landfall.

"What did they threaten you with if you don't get me back inside, kid?" Fitz demanded, turning back toward the unnaturally dark sky. In between streaks of lightning, it was impossible to see anything in the usually bright city.

"N—nothing, sir."

"You don't sound sure about that." Fitz frowned as the first fat drop of cold rain hit his forehead, sliding down into his eye. The wind continued to pick up, whipping the thin rain coat around his frame.

"They didn't threaten me with anything, sir." The tremor in the kid's voice was gone, a bit of strength fortifying his words. "But we both know it won't look good on anyone stationed here tonight if the president is injured or worse in such a preventable manner."

Fitz snorted and, taking pity on the kid, pushed into an awkward, half-crouched stance on the now slippery rooftop. That pity was short-lived, earning a glare from Fitz, when the kid attempted to scamper forward and offer a hand. He had gotten himself onto the roof and he damn sure was capable of getting back off.

Inside, he leaned against the window and watched as the rain began falling in heavy sheets. The young Marine, apparently unwilling to trust that Fitz wouldn't make another break for the roof, stood nearby, forcing a heavy sigh from Fitz. No one wanted to wallow with an audience nearby.

"Have you seen my Chief of Staff recently?" Fitz decided the best way to go was to make small talk - he didn't have any intentions of returning to the Residence.

"Not since…" The kid paused, eyeing the other end of the hall as he appeared to mull over his words.

"He asked you to make sure I don't off myself?" Fitz gave a loud guffaw, shaking his head and sliding down the wall, sitting heavily on the carpeted floor.

"More or less," the kid admitted, settling into position across from Fitz as if he were preparing to keep guard.

"It's just the two of us right now, kid." Fitz reminded him, appraising the kid across from him. He was about average height, a little shorter than Fitz, and had a slim, runner's build. Despite that, he still had the rounded face of a child and, though Fitz knew it wasn't fair to him, he couldn't stop thinking of the kid as such. "What's your name? Your first name."

"Ethan, sir."

"Still just the two of us, Ethan. Call me Fitz." It broke nearly all protocol rules, but he was past the point of caring. And, as he'd just pointed out, it was just the two of them.

They were silent for several minutes as the rain began pounding against the windows and the wind howled. Fitz welcomed the silence. It didn't matter that he had spent the past three days in silence. He would never sort out his thoughts if he wasn't.

He hadn't seen Olivia or Kennedy in that time having chosen to seclude himself in seldom travelled areas of the White House. At first, there was too much anger - too much raw rage. Eventually, that anger dulled to a murmur and he was left with a healthy dose of confusion and hurt.

"I don't think the storm's ending any time soon." Ethan's voice cut through the silence, bringing Fitz back from the cloud of thoughts he was lost in more than not these days. Tilting his head, glancing out the window at the storm, he responded:

"No. No I don't think it is."

Several hours had passed, and the storm still raged outside - making the sky an even darker shade than was to be expected at midnight, by the time Fitz had mustered the courage to leave Ethan behind and enter the Residence. He and the kid hadn't spoken much. Fitz had coaxed a bit of the kid's background from him, but that was about it. He was a welcomed change from Cyrus's repeated and insistent urges to return to work.

He hadn't paid much attention when he first entered the Residence, stumbling through the darkened rooms to the kitchen on pure memory. In a matter of minutes, he had a double Scotch in his hand and was blindly making his way toward the family room, pulling up short at the soft glow from within said room, chasing away the darkness in the hallway. Hoping that Olivia had forgotten to turn the television or a light off, he entered the room.

Luck had never been on his side.

Olivia sat in his usual chair, holding a red-faced Kennedy. Tears streaked down the girl's face and her whole body shook with her sobs. One look at Kennedy, at his daughter, and he was quick to lock away the anger he still felt toward Olivia. In that instance, nothing mattered but Kennedy. Especially once she lifted her head and looked in his direction, her voice small as she said:

"Fitz."

Setting his untouched drink on the nearest available surface, he moved quickly toward the pair sitting in his chair. Olivia didn't protest when he lifted Kennedy into his arms, hugging her tightly to his chest as she wound her arms around his neck. Slowly, her sobs quieted and she managed to choke out one word: "Scary."

"The storm is frightening her," Olivia translated, drawing Fitz's attention. She looked…awful. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot and the dark skin beneath them almost made it look like she had gotten into one hell of a fight. It was the first time in 3 days that he was faced with the reality that this situation didn't just affect him.

He gave a curt nod, rubbing Kennedy's back in what he hoped were soothing circles. Eventually, Kennedy's breathing evened out and her grip loosened around his neck as her soft snores reached his ears. Once he was satisfied that she was well and truly asleep, he turned to leave the room only to be stopped by Olivia.

"She's woken up every time I've tried to put her to bed. The only place she's willing to sleep is your chair."

"My chair?" He frowned. He wasn't going to put her in that chair to sleep. He'd fallen asleep there plenty of times and woken up with a stiff neck to prove it. He stood, helpless, with her in his arms as the wheel turned in his head. She was terrified and refused to sleep in her bed, but she would sleep in his chair. She had been near hysterical when he had first entered the room, calling for him and quickly quieting once he held her. The realization made his heart swell.

Kennedy felt safe with him.

"She's not sleeping in a chair," Fitz stated, turning back toward the hallway. He was aware of Olivia following him the short distance to his room. She stood in the doorway and he was aware of her eyes on him as he laid Kennedy on the white bedspread, taking extra precautions to make sure she was tucked into the middle of the bed.

"Will you get her Sully?" He asked as he grabbed the blue throw at the foot of the bed. He didn't bother to check if Olivia had heard him as he arranged the throw, the presidential seal on one side, over Kennedy. When Olivia returned, stuffed animal in hand, he moved to the side to allow her to tuck the blue and purple toy in beside Kennedy. On the way out of the room, Fitz made sure the door was cracked. If Kennedy woke, he would hear her and she wouldn't be in complete darkness.

Olivia and Fitz sat in silence once they returned to the family room - she with an ear turned toward the door and he, having reclaimed his chair, taking small sips of his Scotch. The storm continued to rage outside, but they hadn't heard a peep from Kennedy for the last half hour. The longer they sat, without an interruption from Kennedy, Fitz knew they were going to have to talk. Despite his inclination to continue ruminating in his thoughts, alone, he started the conversation:

"You were the mole." His tone was even, no note of accusation present.

"I thought I could get ahead of it this time. I knew my dad would repeat whatever I told him to the press. He'd hope that all the rumors would be enough. And why wouldn't they? They were last time. But…this time I was ready."

Fitz frowned. Her words didn't make sense and he had the feeling that she was leaving out a good portion of her explanation.

"Maybe a little less riddles," he suggested, holding his nearly empty glass aloft and giving it a small shake.

"By the time I found out I was pregnant, you were halfway through your first term and talking about a second. I was happy working at OPA and I was…terrified. I had planned to tell you. I didn't know what your reaction was going to be, but I knew that I wanted her. When I came to see you, Cyrus was there. And my father. They were…adamant that I would be ruining your chances of reelection, destroying your hopes and dreams, if I told you that I was pregnant. I was a mess by the time they were done."

"And Jake? How does he fit into this?" Fitz demanded, polishing off his glass, and sitting it a little too hard on the end table by his chair.

"It was my dad's solution. There were already rumors swirling about me and you. My dad thought that if I married Jake, it would be enough to dispel those rumors. Kennedy could pass as his daughter and you wouldn't be too tarnished to win reelection. And my dad liked Jake."

"This whole…" Fitz shook his head, sighing. "Was it worth it? I lost time with my daughter and Kennedy…is that even real, Liv?"

"Of course it fucking is!" Olivia's eyes flashed, hands balling into fists. "If I had known he was going to do that, he was capable of that, then I wouldn't have cared if you lost reelection. I wouldn't have cared if they found some bogus reason to impeach you - I. Would. Have. Told. You."

Fitz opened his mouth, prepared to launch into his own brewing tirade, when the red phone in the corner of the room began ringing. Brows furrowing, Fitz pushed from his chair and made his way to the phone. Picking the phone up, he held it to his ear and offered a greeting, the color draining from his face as Cyrus's voice came across the line:

"They caught him, Fitz. Kennedy's going to have to give a statement."

A/N: November updates will be sporadic, if any at all. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo and, fingers-crossed, will have a completed Christmas Story for you in December. If I don't update next month, Happy Thanksgiving! - Gabi xxx