Futile Devices – Prologue

"What the hell is this?"

"It's called breakfast, sir, you eat it."

Cyrus scowled at the slab of grapefruit that lay on in front of him on his desk, then looked up at his secretary. "Until this thing is covered in at least one layer of bacon, I'm not calling it breakfast."

"Until you're not one Senate dispute away from another heart attack, I'm not letting you anywhere near bacon." Mary countered, unamused.

He glared at her for a moment then sat up in his chair. "Do you like this job? Do you like working in the White House? Do you like the fact that you're not currently standing in the decimated ruins of the American Republic?" He questioned dramatically. "Yesterday, just one day ago, I single-handedly disarmed a doomsday device, stopped a runaway train and put freaking Humpty Dumpty back together again! And I did all of this while l still had little plastic tubes sticking out of my heart. I fixed the universe from a hospital bed yesterday and you think I only deserve a one flavor fruit salad?"

"Thank you for saving the universe, sir." His secretary huffed, unmoved by his tirade. "I like my job. I like being alive. But I like you being alive too. So eat your grapefruit." Mary ordered gruffly, then promptly stepped out of his office and shut the door.

"Plastic tubes!" Cyrus shouted after her in emphasis, but then as silence fell over his office, reluctantly looked back down to his unappealing meal.

It was a good day. Everything was back to the way it should be. He wasn't about to let some poor impersonation of an orange ruin it. Picking up the small silver spoon, he clutched it tight in his fist then stabbed it down into the pink flesh.

Droplets of juice spluttered out from fruit as Cyrus dug in harder with his spoon when suddenly the room filled with the shrill ring of his cell phone. Looking over he saw the small screen light up with the name 'James Novak'.

One more thing he wouldn't let ruin his day.

Turning away from his cell, Cyrus continued with the breakfast, ignoring the long ringing as he took a bite from the fruit. The room finally fell back to silence and Cyrus grimaced at the bitter taste. Dropping his spoon, he picked up the grapefruit and unceremoniously threw it into the bin, when all of a sudden his office door opened once more, revealing the crimson coutured figure of Mellie Grant.

Cyrus's grimace instantly changed into a self-satisfied grin.

"Welcome back to the White House, Madame First Lady!" He leaned back in his chair smugly.

Mellie's cold eyes pierced him then she took in a frustrated breath and closed the door behind her. "Ok Cyrus, just get it out now and we can get over it."

"Get what out?" He teased as she reluctantly stepped up to his desk and sat down opposite him.

"You know." She glared.

"I'm afraid I don't." He smiled.

"You do."

"I don't."

"That you were right!" Mellie finally forced out. "That you were right and I was wrong." She continued, through gritted teeth. "That Fitz is a child and would eventually understand what he needs to do to win."

"Apology accepted." Cyrus feigned thoughtfulness.

"I wasn't apologising." Mellie hit back quickly.

"You weren't?" He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "My bad."

Cyrus's cell phone suddenly began to ring again, causing Mellie's gaze to shift to James' blinking name. He let out an annoyed sigh and pressed 'end' then looked back to Mellie's watchful eyes.

"I only have time for one husband today." He made a quick excuse then indicated to his now silent phone. "And that one wasn't planning throw his entire life away just 24 hours ago."

Mellie straightened herself in the chair and smoothed down a crease in her perfectly tailored skirt. "I may not forgive Fitz's baffling pigheadedness when it comes to Ms Pope, but at least he has admitted his mistake, and now he knows where he stands. He knows he owes me. So I'm here to plan the next step. I'm here to plan our re-election: because unlike Fitz's inability to keep his pants on, I am prepared to do whatever it takes to keep this White House." Her eyes steeled with determination.

Cyrus studied her for a moment then nodded thoughtfully to himself. "First off you need to fix what you broke." He began unsubtly. "Stop being the jilted wife throwing mud at her husband in the town square. You decided to air your dirty laundry in public, you're going to need to reconcile in public too. We'll start off with couples counselling with your pastor then bring the kids in from school for some family bonding time with you and twenty of your closest press photographers. You need to appear loving, stable, harmonious, but most importantly, you need to appear like you're not some power hungry egomaniac who would stop at nothing to retain their hold on authority." He let his words hang in the air for a moment, then let the corner of his mouth curl into a small smile. "Do you think you can do that?"

Mellie gave him an icy glare. "I think I'm much better hiding it than you."

Cyrus smiled in wry conciliation and was about to open his mouth when loud ring of his cell phone interrupted him again.

"Your husband is certainly persistent." Mellie remarked coolly as she watched Cyrus pick up his phone and punch the 'end' button once more. "Would he be interested in hosting a joint interview?"

His eyes flicked back to Mellie's at her words, the memory of her backroom dealings with James still fresh in his mind, yet she continued unabated. "It could be quite a nice way to round out the whole story, if you know what I mean. The public love that sort of neat ending."

Cyrus could feel his insides stewing, yet he held it all down with a composed face. "I supposed they do." He remarked shortly, when suddenly his door opened and Mary hurried in, face flustered and eyes wide open.

"Mr Beene," His secretary rushed breathlessly. "You're going to want to see – " Her eyes passed over Mellie and instantly she cut herself short, the blood running out of her face. "Mrs Grant." She croaked out in surprise.

"Good morning Mary!" Mellie tried to put on her warmest smile as Mary stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Cyrus watched his dumb secretary with quizzical impatience. "Want to see what?"

Mary flicked her eyes back from Mellie to him and shifted uncomfortably in her stance, slowly beginning to back away out of the office. "Oh… it should wait till later."

"Not when you've come in all this way to interrupt my meeting!" Cyrus waved his hand dramatically. "What is it?"

"I can tell you after." She forced a polite smile.

"Don't mind me." Mellie interjected sweetly. "I'm happy to wait!"

"Is this about breakfast?" Cyrus barked.

"No sir." Mary answered quickly, still watching the First Lady.

"Good because I'm just about this close to running off to Gettysburger just to spite you!"

His secretary's eyes shot back at him with a sudden determination. "You're not going anywhere, sir."

"And why is that?"

Mary quickly moved to his desk and picked up his TV remote and held it up to his wide screen, then pressed down.

The screen flickered to life.

Flashing lights, cameras shaking, reporters shouting.

Then he saw her.

He saw her in the middle of the swarm, face shocked as she was pulled away by figures in suits.

His heartbeat began to rise, the uneven tempo throbbing though his ears as a heat rushed up through his tightening chest and the bitter taste returned to his mouth.

His day was definitely ruined now.

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NB:

Why hello there! Yes, it is I, Kronos, King of the Monkey People – and for some reason I'm adding this to the pile of far better season 3 fics. Something needs to get me through this four month wait, so here's me throwing my day dreams at you, if you want them. If not, my apologies.

Anywho, next chapter, should you choose to want it, we'll see what Fitz and Liv are up to in this sudden shit storm! So please review, even if it's to shout in defence of grapefruit, because reviews are the coffee to the caffeine addict of a monkey brain. Thanks so much for reading!