The Price of a Promise
AN: A moment in between episodes 3x14 and 3x15, after James' death but before we meet Karen and Jerry for the first time. This story is centered around Fitz's reflections on himself, his family, and Olivia. like to think that while some stuff definitely flew over this man's head, he wasn't so selfish and unaware of Olivia's struggles as some fans think. The show just didn't present that side of him that much.
As Fitz gazed down at her, he was fairly certain Olivia was sleeping. Her breathing was slow and deep, yet her face, flat against his chest, was etched with a persistent frown. He sighed softly and tightened his embrace just slightly, careful not to disturb her slumber.
His thoughts drifted to her solitary nights. How often did she sleep like this when she was alone? He guessed she was alone most of the time.
Fitz couldn't bring himself to think about Jake and whether he was occasionally keeping her company. The thought of Jake and Olivia twisted in his gut, the hypocrisy of his own actions not lost on him. He had placed Jake as the head of B613 not just to protect the nation and keep Rowan away from power, but selfishly, to keep Jake away from Olivia too.
With another heavy sigh, Fitz squeezed his eyes. Was it justifiable, attempting to keep Jake from Olivia? He clung to the hope that she still harboured love for only him rather than developing feeling for his once-buddy, but what did that change?
He was still the President, gearing up for a second term and leading a blissful marital life in the public eye, while she was relegated to lonely, frown-filled nights. His sweet Livvie …
The consummate fixer who eased everyone's burdens—often his—yet carried her own silently. The unfairness of it all weighed heavily on Fitz; the injustice of having her entwined in his campaign, asking her to once again delay their future together for the sake of his political ambitions.
Often, he pondered the life she led beyond their stolen moments. What did her nights usually look like? He claimed he loved her more than anything in his life, yet he couldn't exactly describe how her usual free time unfolded, since he was rarely a part of it.
Olivia shifted slightly beside him, prompting Fitz to start tracing his finger gently along her hand that lay atop his chest. She rested to his right, her back to the wardrobe which was probably filled with designer suits and an array of Prada bags.
He lay on his back, closer to the window, where the blinds were nearly shut. A sliver of moonlight broke through, highlighting the stubborn frown that still shadowed her features.
The murder of James had shaken Fitz to his core, a stark reminder of life's fragility. As a former marine and now a leader of the world's foremost nation, he was no stranger to the atrocities of life, yet personal loss always struck a different chord. He hadn't known James intimately, but Cyrus's grief was palpable and deeply affecting. Fitz's heart especially went out to little Ella, now left with just one parent.
Knowing Cyrus well, Fitz was certain that James had been the more nurturing figure in their daughter's life, and he doubted Cyrus could ever fill the gaping void that would form in James' absence.
He came to see James as a loving parent, akin to the mother Fitz had cherished and missed all these years later … A type of parent he and Mellie had never quite been for their own children, but one he aspired to one day become alongside Olivia.
"There is no Vermont," she told him just days ago in the Oval Office. She would stay on the campaign, would bring her A-game, but there would be no talk of the future, no talk of Vermont. She might even allow him a kiss, but any promises of a future together would be extinguished instantly.
He could live with that; it wasn't ideal, but it was something.
Third deep sigh escaped him. What a pathetic man he was, Fitz thought to himself. Only in these quiet moments of the night, and only on the rare occasions he lay beside Livvie, did he admit to himself that many of Rowan's insults were true.
He knew he wasn't enough for Olivia; she deserved much more. In the quiet darkness, Fitz pondered the irony. As President, he could influence nations, yet he felt utterly powerless to give Olivia the one thing she truly wanted—a real, openly acknowledged life together.
Could they survive four more years apart? Four more years of stolen nights once in a rare while; four more years of occasional phone calls that left them happy in the moment but so lonely the second they hung up.
Wondering about her day as she went to bed alone—had she eaten a proper dinner, or was it just popcorn and wine again? Wondering if she made it home or was pulling an all-nighter on a particularly hard case.
And the worry that one day, one of those cases dealing with secrets, scandals, and affairs might leave her lying in a street somewhere, not unlike like James who was left by a random attacker in a carjacking gone wrong.
In a puddle of her own blood, with the tragic difference that no one would notice her absence. Because being involved with him made sure no one was there to greet her as she came home.
He had spoken to Cyrus about James's death only once, briefly. Cyrus hadn't wanted to dwell on it for longer than it took for Lauren to print out some files and bring into the Oval. In that short exchange, Cyrus explained his gut feeling of something being off when James hadn't come home that night.
Sure, they had fought and Cyrus figured out his husband was Pegasus, but James would never fail to come home without at least notifying Ella's nanny that he'd be late. He would have come home, if nothing else, to collect Ella and take her with him.
And who would notice if Livvie disappeared, Fitz thought to himself. No one—he had ensured that. By convincing her to wait for him, by pulling her back into his orbit each time she tried to pull away, he had solidified her isolation from the rest of the world.
He knew rationally that Olivia was her own person, perfectly capable of making her own decisions. They often involved spending what little free time she had more introspectively anyway. Once, it must have been in the early days of them reconnecting after the Amanda Tanner situation, she told him that cases at the OPA drained her social battery, so she preferred her evenings alone.
Nevertheless, he couldn't shake the guilt for the kind of life she was leading. Would their love be enough to last four more years? And what would happen at the end—would she finally accept his offer to divorce Mellie once he was no longer president?
During the day, he would confidently share his plans for the first few months out of office, which he had already begun to fantasize about. It involved serving Mellie with divorce papers, standing firm in every negotiation, giving her almost everything she demanded from their estates and other assets, just so he could be truly free. Then, he would dedicate some much-needed time to Karen and Jerry. Just the three of them, alone, learning how to be a family again.
He realized now that they had lost their connection long ago, and he was ashamed of it. He could barely name their friends or list their interests. Sure, he kept up with their education and achievements, but he didn't need his wife to tell him that his children were drifting away from him and frankly, had little desire anymore to interact with their father. He knew that sad fact by himself.
But during the night, his thoughts plagued him. What if Livvie decided it was all too much? Waiting and all that stuff, or what if they even came to the point of him divorcing Mellie, but then she decided she still didn't want him? He decided a while ago, no matter what happened with Olivia, his divorce would proceed. For his sake, for his kids' sake and even for Mellie's.
Tomorrow—or rather, later this afternoon—the kids would be arriving at the White House for the highly anticipated Noah Baker interview, scheduled three days from now. It had been Olivia's idea to feature the whole family again.
Nowadays they rarely appeared publicly with the children, yet their presence had been a cornerstone of his first campaign. They were so young back then, all bubbly and perfectly happy to be travelling the country with his dad on several occasions.
Olivia argued that a new interview would serve as a warm check-in with the First Family, potentially reigniting the support of family-oriented voters and the women who adored seeing Fitz as a devoted father.
Both he and Mellie were sceptical at first, for once agreeing over something. They weren't sure if they wanted to use their children in the campaign again, but when Cyrus sided with Olivia and showed them the polls, they had to agree too. It would benefit the campaign and it was with an interviewer that the White House trusted.
As he continued to lay there in darkness of her bedroom, Fitz's thoughts drifted back to how he ended up in Olivia's apartment this particular night.
He had been working late at the office, the halls of the West Wing quiet except for the occasional echo of a lone staffer heading out. They were all dismissed long ago, and only Tom along with another secret service agent remained in his working quarters while he finished up for the day.
He had gradually bent the protocol over time, initially reducing the number of staffers on-site who would usually be present when the President decided to work late. Then, he negotiated to dismiss them completely after 10.30pm.
Most of them had personal lives they were eager to return to outside the White House. Families, dates, books they enjoyed, TV shows they wanted to catch up on or simply falling into bed and getting some sleep.
Mellie had popped into his office earlier, with a determined walk and a sharp reminder that he better be present when she picked up the kids tomorrow. There was a "spontaneous" photo-op planned for the First kids' arrival in DC, and she dryly commented that if she had to endure it, he should too. Before leaving, she'd suggested he should use the Lincoln Bedroom to avoid disturbing her, if he decided to work late again.
Cyrus had left earlier too, his mind preoccupied with Ella, who was increasingly confused about why Daddy James wasn't around anymore. Alone in the Oval, Fitz tried to focus on the briefs stacked before him. His thoughts however were unyielding, continuously circling back to the notion of family.
What constituted family to Olivia?
Certainly not her estranged and manipulative parents. Perhaps her team at Pope and Associates? He got the sense that they shared a bond that went beyond mere colleagues—there was a palpable loyalty there, maybe akin to familial ties.
And did he fit into her concept of family?
In some twisted way, he hoped he did, but he knew that might be asking too much. While he cherished the thought of being considered family by Olivia, he was also acutely aware that she might compartmentalize him differently, and he had no right to expect otherwise, let alone feel slighted. He had nothing to offer her anyway, a voice eerily similar to Rowan's rang in his head. Nothing real. Just promises, daydreams and "somedays". Hope upon hope of, Vermont, babies, jam – someday. And as she told him, she didn't wish to hear that anymore.
Yeahh, he really loved how after realizing he was Olivia's father a few months ago, it seemed like Rowan occupied a part of his mind next to Big Jerry, and how either, sometimes both, seemed to pop up to haunt him on the evenings he felt particularly tired.
And who would notice if Livvie wouldn't return home?
James had family. Cyrus was maybe not the perfect husband, but he was more or less there. He was family. He and James had a bed they shared, a house both returned to at the end of the workday. And Livvie's house was empty. He guessed it would probably be the rough guy, who would first notice her gone. If Fitz remembered correctly, he was ex-CIA and very protective of his boss. Maybe even had some kind of trackers on her. Which was good. It was good that someone could look out for her, ideally someone she trusted. Not like Jake, who Fitz pushed into her life and paid the price of his own orders once she found out about it.
With these thoughts weighing heavily on him, Fitz made a quick decision. He needed to see her, to be with her, at least for their one minute. His day was done, White House relatively quiet. Leaving his briefs scattered on the desk, he headed out, pressing the speed dial on his phone and motioning for Tom to follow him down the hall to the garages.
Olivia answered on the third ring. "What," was all she let out, and he was equally brief: "I'm coming to see you." He hung up immediately after that. Fitz was afraid that by letting her reply, she would begin convincing him how that was an awful idea and that he should really stop dropping by like that.
His heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and trepidation as the elevator made his way up to Olivia's apartment. Tom and the other agent stood beside him, as discreetly as they could in the cramped space. When he reached her door, it swung open before he could knock. Olivia appeared; a look of mild surprise mixed with an undeniable understanding in her eyes.
"Come in," she said simply, stepping aside to let him pass.
The familiarity of her space enveloped him as he entered her home—the soft lighting, and the faint scent of her perfume mixed with wine lingering in the air. He had the luxury of being at her place only a handful of times and it already felt like a sanctuary away from the chaos of his own life.
Olivia closed the door and turned to face him with her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. She was dressed in her loungewear which was made up of a soft ivory camisole and matcing long wide pants. Traces of subtle makeup she usually wore were already washed away, leaving her face bare. "What brings you here, Fitz?" she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.
It wasn't lost on her that he would need to spend the following days with Mellie and kids as they tried to present a united front of a loving First family to the American public. When strategizing the next campaign moves earlier, he also made sure to tell her privately how he wasn't impressed by her idea of making his estranged family play house. Especially when they both knew that his of heart wanted to commit to different kind of domesticity, with her.
"I … I guess I just needed to see you. I know that everything is already tightening up around the campaign and we're barely even started the home stretch … so I'm guessing it's gonna get even worse, and … I just wanted the chance to see you. To just be." he replied looking her in the eyes, his voice low.
The honesty of his words hung between them, a raw confession of his dependency on her presence to anchor him.
For a moment, they simply stood there behind her front door, absorbing the weight of his admission. Then, impulsively, Fitz slowly stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands. Their eyes locked and he brushed the curvature of Olivia's lips with his thumb.
Olivia leaned into his touch, closing her eyes to savour the moment. Then, as if surrendering into the re-direction of her evening, she offered him a genuine smile and pulled him closer. Her arms clasped aroud his neck. Standing one against the other, their lips met in a kiss. It was gentle at first, then qucikly deepened with a familiar passion.
Olivia parted her lips and sought his tongue with her own, inviting him into his mouth and hiking up a leg toward his thigh. Catching her cue, Fitz bent slightly to support her as she wrapped one leg around his waist. In one smooth motion, he lifted her completely, allowing her to straddle him effortlessly. He supported her by placing his left hand firmly on her hip, while his other hand palmed the curvature of her petite ass through her thin linen pants. He could never get enough of her and any chance he got to explore her body and claim it with his hands, he gladly took.
Olivia locked her legs on his back, never breaking their kiss. Her fingers grazed his freshly cut hair, easing the tension of his lingering worries with her gentle touch.
Those movements stoked his arousal. Fitz's hands roamed with increasing urgency, his right one moving from her backside and disappearing under the waistband of her loungewear. Then, it dipped under her panties too, searching for skin-to-skin contact, and kneading her flesh. Olivia's breaths became shallow and quick, moaning into his mouth. It also made her gyrate her hips against the layers of their clothing, rocking in tune with the movement of their tongues.
Each rhythmical contact sent a jolt of fresh desire through Fitz. She responded with louder moans that filled the quiet space, her hands pulling him closer, using her nails to scrape his scalp in a way that shot sparks of pleasure down his spine.
It was a dance they both perfected by now. Once they were alone, once it was just them, all worries and doubts seemed to diminish. Becoming professionals in these kinds of meetings, they both also knew it would last only in minutes to hours.
When they would end, spent and having poured to each other all that they could, the world would come knocking back at her front door, lulling him away and leaving her alone. But for those brief hours he would try his best to quiet down the overbearing sense of quilt and show her his love in the best way he knew how.
When the need for air finally outweighed their need to kiss, Olivia broke away, her breathing shallow. She peppered his lips, the corners of his mouth, and the corners of his eyes with quick, tender kisses. At times, he felt she was reassuring herself of his physical presence, affirming he wasn't merely a figment of her longing. Then, with a breathy voice filled with need, she whispered into the dim light of her living room, "Let's go to bed."
No further words were needed. He turned to the left and carried her toward her bedroom, her body's warmth against his growing arousal intensifying with each step he took down the short hallway.
Afterwards, Olivia had fallen asleep quickly, exhaustion claiming her as soon as her head hit the pillow. It was so good, always was. But he hated how those stolen moments came at such high price. As he watched her sleep, his mind continued to race—with promising herself to him, was he keeping her from having a more normal life?
From having someone she could truly call family without any secrecy or dobut? It pained him to see that even in sleep, she couldn't seem to escape the burdens she carried.
Peeling his eyes away from her sleeping face, he surveyed her bedroom. Besides her breathing, the only sound was made by the faint traces of traffic somewhere in the distance. It was rare he got to spend a whole night here, but as per his calculations, he should be in the clear if he got up around 6am and returned to the White House by 6.30, just a few minutes before all the press corps and staffers would begin to gather for the day.
In Olivia's sanctuary, he felt a stark contrast to the life he led outside these walls. His heart ached as he contemplated the upcoming days. The Noah Baker interview loomed in his mind; a reminder of the public lies he had to maintain.
Fitz's thoughts wandered back to the idea of family—what it meant for him and what it could mean for them. Here was Olivia, the woman he loved, yet she lacked a traditional family of her own because of the path they had chosen together. His role in her solitude was undeniable. By keeping their relationship hidden, he had denied her the chance of a normal life, of a family that didn't need to hide in the shadows.
The notion of their future together hovered in his mind. Could there ever be a time when they didn't have to conceal their love? A question he asked himself a thousand times, and each time came to a different conclusion. He knew he had often promised her more than he had delivered, always pushing their happiness into a future that seemed increasingly tenuous. Whatever tomorrow brought, he needed to make changes. For her, for them, for the family he hoped they could one day openly be.
He was shot not so long ago. Almost killed. James was shot. Kllied. Even Verna ("And a darn good riddance, boy!" now Doyle's voice shot out from the depths of his mind) was dead a little sooner than she could be–both because of what he did to her, but also due to her aggressive cancer, which surely shaved off some years she would otherwise have left. All in a span of a little more than a year.
A sense of resolve settled over him as he watched over Olivia and stroked her arm. No matter the challenges, he still wanted to fight for that future, to make it a reality. Maybe it wasn't too late for them to have a different kind of life—one where Olivia didn't have to frown in her sleep, burdened by her sacrifices.
"Will we make it Livvie?" he whispered into the darkness, as if expecting the shadows to answer. As the night deepened, Fitz's weariness finally caught up with him.
Sleep claimed him, and the last thing he remembered was hoping that their love would someday be worth the price they were paying.
AN: If you read through the whole thing, thank you so much. This is my first ever fanfic, and as you might notice, English is not my first language—it's actually my third, and quite different grammatically from my mother tongues. I have been learning it since the first grade, but still, writing fiction in a foreign language is a whole another cookie. I've written scientific entries in English before and felt much more confident lol. Please, comment/shoot me a message if you have any constructive criticism:)