No Man Is An Island

(A/N: Trigger Warning - sensitive subject briefly discussed.)

"I need the room!" The command came unexpected; slicing through the genial atmosphere like the laceration from a knife – sharp and quick.

Celeste was cut off mid-sentence and her dainty features flushed at the harsh, abrupt tone; the smile on her face faded. She, alone, had greeted the couple with the enthusiasm of a proud parent who doted on her sons and was delighted with any news of their happiness – no matter how ridiculous.

With all eyes now focused on him, he continued in the same steely, resolute tone, "Olivia and Sydney stay." The raised eyebrows from his wife, who clearly did not appreciate the manner in which the order was given, made him add, "Please," for her benefit alone.

As expected, Caleb blustered at the order and stepped forward in defiance. He readily took advantage of any opportunity to challenge Fitz's authority. "What!...Why Sydney? You can't demand that Sydney stay! If she stays, I stay. What you say to her, you say to me! She's MY girlfriend! She came with me, she stays with me."

His outburst was greeted with cold, stark silence and an intensifying stare from his brother. Caleb's eyes darted across the room, looking for support from anyone but no one, not even his mother, came to his defense. And as Fitz matched his step with one of his own, all the courage Caleb thought he had seconds ago seeped away from his body. Beads of perspiration began to form and it took all of his power not to cower and step back in rising fear.

Through his peripheral vision, he detected the look of distress on Celeste's face and it almost moved him to explain his actions, ease her worry. But he didn't. They would all find out soon enough. Right now, he needed to shut down the game they were playing – Sydney was using him and Caleb was testing him.

His stare was long and steady and he could see Caleb's body become increasingly uneasy under the focused attention. It was a little strange watching someone with features so similar to his own looking back at him with bluish-grey eyes filling with dread. Their relationship was shaky, filled with mistrust and the tension of uncertainty. It was clear to Fitz that soon, very soon, they would come to blows. It would have to happen.

His eyes narrowed slightly in startling realization that Caleb's eyes also changed color depending on his mood. Their genetic similarities almost threw him off balance; he braced up to shake off the distracted thoughts.

"Sydney stays, you go," Fitz asserted; eyebrows raised to emphasize that this was all the explanation he would give.

"Come on kid," Cyrus intervened, taking Caleb by the arm and escorted him from the room.

In privacy, behind closed doors, Fitz leaned against his desk and glared at Sydney. "Explain."

Blinking rapidly, Sydney lost all the prideful glee of what she perceived as a warm welcome into the protection of the Grant family. She thought Fitz might be concerned, but she hadn't expected quiet ferocity of his rising temper. And she did not want it aimed at her.

Slowly making her way to a seat on the couch, she stalled; searching for the best way to explain her odd match with Caleb and the reason why she was desperate to attach herself to this family. She wasn't prepared; she thought Fitz would look to Caleb for an explanation. He caught her off guard by demanding to speak to her instead.

Olivia remained perched on the arm of the couch. Purely out of spite, she was tempted to defy Fitz's order herself but her curiosity would not allow her to leave without being privy to this conversation. Outwardly, she feigned disinterest. She was still highly irritated with her husband and refused to give any hint of support of whatever he was about to say or do.

Hands gripped in her lap, Sydney finally met his iced grey eyes. Her smiled wavered as she responded, "Wh…what would you like to know?"

He growled in irritation. "He's a kid Sydney."

"He's almost 21," she countered, weakly.

When she said nothing further, Fitz became even more impatient, "You've come here looking for my help, deceptively working your way into my family and taking advantage of my brother's ignorance of who you really are and why you're really here."

Olivia sat up straighter, regarding her husband more intently. Fitz was a lot more enlightened than she gave him credit for.

Sydney's mouth dropped and she immediately sought the defense of lying by omission. "Deception?...I never…"

Fitz put his hand up to stop her from insulting him with an empty excuse. "You're running from serious trouble and had you come to me directly and told me what was going on," he shrugged, "maybe we would be having a different conversation but you taking advantage of me and my family was wrong. You had no problem putting us right in the middle of your shit and putting our lives in danger."

Sydney opened her mouth to explain but he was no longer interested in her justifications. He kept talking over her and eventually she got the message. Her mouth closed in a pout. "You have two options…I can have your father here tomorrow to pack you up and take you back East. Let him take care of the mess you're in."

He paused, stole a glance at his wife and smirked. "Or you can get married."

XXXXXX

"Married?!" Sydney and Olivia yelled together. Two pairs of bulging eyes were fixed on him and he would have laughed, had he not still been annoyed by the farce they tried to put over on him.

"Why, why would I…You said it yourself, Caleb is a child. He can't get married…I can't marry him!"

Olivia finally spoke up in a condescending tone that told him she clearly thought he lost his mind. "Fitz…you're not serious. What are you talking about?"

"It's not Caleb," he explained simply. "Congressman Shaw is going to be my VP in the run for the White House, but he's a single man. America doesn't like single men in power; they don't trust it. He needs a wife."

Sydney gasped and stood, outraged. "You…you…you Fucking Ass!...How dare you!...Who do you think you are!"

The anger was expected; it did not bother him. He shrugged it off and calmly continued, "He's an attractive man, never been married, no children…well, not that we know of. He's very successful. Who knows, you may eventually really learn to like each other. It's a good, solid, fair match. Even your father thinks so."

"You talked to my father about this behind my back!...I can't believe you Fitz. I can't…" her fists were clenched by her side. She wanted to hit him; she wanted to claw his face.

"Sydney," he began speaking slowly as if he were explaining life to a three year old. "If all goes well you will be the wife of the Vice President of the United States. Most women would kill for a position like that."

He heard Olivia make a guttural sound in disagreement but he paid her no attention. "I am not most women!" Sydney yelled.

"True, most women are not in the kind of trouble you're in."

And she was suddenly reminded of the gravity of her situation. The threats hadn't stopped with her move to California; they intensified and became more graphic. She had been afraid for so long and was tired of living in fear. All she wanted was for it all to go away; for her life to go back to what it was before she took that horrible case. She dropped back into her seat feeling miserable and trapped.

She was crying now, in misery, anger and frustration, "Please don't do this Fitz…There are other ways you could fix my situation and you know it. It doesn't have to be this way. If you want me to leave Caleb alone I will but don't do this. You're pimping me out as part of a business contract….it's disgusting."

Her tears didn't move him to reconsider the proposition. "You wanted my help…this is the help I can provide to you. You have two options but you have to choose now."

"Three." Olivia cut in and drew their attention to her. She stood and walked in front of Sydney, blocking her view of Fitz. "You have three options Sydney." Her voice was sympathetic and genuine. She didn't like Sydney but she couldn't sit by in silence and let this happen to her either.

Sydney looked like a cornered child, desperately wanting to be rescued. Olivia felt pity for her and spoke with firm confidence, "There is a third option…You can say "NO" – "No" to Fitz and "No" to your father. You can handle this on your own. You are an intelligent woman; you can find a way. You can do this by yourself; fix your own life. Then, you won't owe anyone anything."

XXXXXX

The subdued conversation swirled all around him; he heard none of it. He sat like a statue, barely moving to breathe only allowing his eyes to rotate and glance over the people before him. He felt oddly and sadly disconnected from every single one of them, even his wife.

Despite the attempt at cordiality, the room was filled with nervous tension, thick like a darkening cloud. He felt their questioning looks, some hopeful that he would join in the conversation and lighten the mood for everyone and others – namely Caleb and Sydney – shot daggers his way, wishing he would simply fall off the face of the earth.

The passive expression never left his face as he stared across the table at his wife. She had no appetite either. With downcast eyes she distractedly moved her salad across her plate; a ghost of a smile came and went when she looked up to give attention to someone calling her name. Then she would look at him, catch his gaze and harden like ice. And before she focused back on her plate, he would see the hint of disappointment and wish he had not stared long enough to witness it.

So this was what it felt like - the loneliness and isolation of thought, action and intention that came with his position as family head. Ironically, he understood his role as leader of the state and his aspirations as leader of the country but within his family, he had not fully grasped the idea until this moment, when it no longer felt like a partnership between he and his wife. When the distance between them was much greater than this large solid piece of wood and the people sitting anchored in the middle.

Had he created this separation on his own or was it an inevitable casualty of who he was and meant to be?

They all heard the argument – in whole or at least caught portions of it – of that he was sure. It should not have gone unresolved; it should not have been allowed to linger because everyone, not just he and Olivia, were dwelling on every word; exaggerating, misunderstanding and misapplying.

Although they had been alone in the sitting room, he felt like every person in the family was present, each defending a side of the issue. Even now, he could look around the table and tell which parties were on his side and which stood with Olivia. And he didn't like it; not at all.

XXXXXX

As soon as Sydney left the room, Olivia whirled around with a fiery countenance that would've made him flinch had he not felt a justifiable anger of his own. How could she go against him and support Sydney?

"How dare you!...What gives you the right to make a decision like that!" she screamed. He crossed his arms defensively and braved her anger. His lack of immediate contrition infuriated her even more. "I don't know who the hell you think you are but you don't get to make decisions like that for people! No one…no one has given you permission to control our lives."

His nostrils flared at her distorted, ridiculous statements. "Olivia, I am not…"

She knew that he would start with deflection and didn't know if she could stand to hear it. "Don't even say it!...You know exactly what you are doing. And I'm not going to stand here and let you insult my intelligence by pretending like I don't get it. You're going to have to do much better than that Fitz."

He breathed in deeply, "I'm not going to apologize, Olivia. I'm not. And you're being a hypocrite by defending Sydney to me!...You know what she's done, why she's here and showing up with Caleb was the final straw."

She knew but she didn't know that he knew. Briefly, she wondered why he didn't tell her. But that discussion raise more complicated issues that she couldn't settle in her mind at the moment, so she decided not to bring it up.

Another thought sprung into her mind instead. "Wait!...You are making it seem like this idea for her to marry Tony was a spur of the moment. But it's not. Whether she showed up here with Caleb or not, you've been planning this. You already talked to her father and to Tony. You've arranged it all." She sounded completely disgusted and her lips turned up in stark disapproval.

He cleared his throat and shifted under the scrutiny. "I did," he readily admitted, though his voice lost a little bit of the bravado it held before.

Her body language screamed condemnation and she had the words to match. "Sydney was right….The Fitz I know would not do this, selling women to men…"

The insult hit home and cut deep. He flushed hotly. He hadn't cared when Sydney inferred it but to hear his wife say it was more than he could stand. Did she really think of him that way? He saw red; the control he was fighting for vanished in a haze. "Oh my fucking God!" he roared. "You are acting like I'm running a goddammed whorehouse. I am not selling Sydney!" He repeated for fuller measure, "I AM NOT SELLING SYDNEY!...No one is mistreating that woman. If she doesn't want an arrangement that ensures her protection and security then FINE! She can fucking walk away. She can get the fuck out of my house and out of my family's life and never come back; figure her shit out on her own. I don't fucking care!"

Olivia's mouth widened as she realized the full scope of his anger. He wasn't done either. He took a step toward her and his tone turned accusatory, toward her.

"And you know what…at least I'm being real," he sneered. "I'm not apologizing for what I did, I own it. You're pretending like you're hurt for how Sydney was treated? Like you're standing up for a cause in the Women's Liberation Movement? Come on Olivia, we've done worse than that to people and you know it! What's the real reason for your drama? Are you mad because you didn't come up with the plan yourself? Are you mad because you weren't in on it; that I didn't consult you?"

She was about to respond but his barking overrode her voice.

"Oh no….I get it. I know what it is. You're jealous," he concluded triumphantly. His contemptuous laughter made her want to slap his face.

"Jealous?...Jealous of what?"

"You never told me about you and Tony."

He said nothing more; he let the accusation hang heavy in the air. She blinked in surprise, allowing her mind to catch up to the turn of the conversation. Under normal circumstances, had they been having a calm discussion, she would have felt regretful over the non-disclosure. She knew he was being considered for a possible VP spot and although in her mind, the relationship was nothing to be concerned over, she should have said something. She didn't like meeting Sydney in the blind and she should not do the same to Fitz.

But this was not one of their calm discussions and therefore she didn't feel she owed him the courtesy of contrition.

"Do not bullshit me Fitz. You know damn well, there's nothing to tell. I know you…Instead of being honest and asking me about Tony, you went behind my back and dug up all the sordid details. Right?" She knew that if there was anything serious between her and Tony Shaw, she and Fitz would be having an entirely different conversation.

He frowned. How did she do that? How did she turn an argument in his favor into judgment against him? He had no defense to her point.

"Seems like we trust each other less and less these days," she said critically with an obvious implication that "we" really meant "him".

Walking across the room, she increased the distance between them and gave him a sideways glance. "You kept more than one secret from me Fitz." She didn't elaborate on the cryptic statement but waited for him to fill in the blanks.

Deflated, exhausted, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His response was impatient, "Olivia, I don't feel like reading between the lines. Can you just say what you mean?"

She rolled her eyes at his insensitivity. "So you're definitely running now."

His eyes popped open at her tone. He put his hands in his pocket and stared at her; his expression completely blank. "Yes", he said fervently.

She stared back. "When were you going to tell me that? It would have been nice to know that my life was about to change so dramatically. You might have shown me a little consideration and told me before the entire family found out. I mean especially since I'm the one in this with you! I'm the last person you should have kept in the dark Fitz!"

"You said the decision was mine to make and that I would make a great President and I should do what makes me happy!...Are you saying you meant none of that?!"

Taking a deep breath, she said, "I did say that and I meant it then as I mean it now. But that is not the point…you led me to believe that you did not want this; that you wanted another term as Governor. I thought the decision was made…. But we come here and you've changed. You're not talking to me; you're not telling me your plans. You're making decisions about my life and other people's lives…"

"You mean I'm not letting YOU control my decisions…."

She hadn't expected the cold, disparaging comment and was taken aback, "You think I try to control you?"

"Everyone, including you, tries to control me…And all of you get pissed off when I don't let you do it."

She stood shocked, dismayed and highly insulted by his words; control implied manipulation and deception. Her body felt weak, shaky and ungrounded; she had to sit down. When she finally got control of her emotions, she looked up at him with a blank, almost resigned expression.

"Are you saying you want to do this alone…without me?" Her voice sounded small and uncertain, so unlike her but she couldn't help it. In all the years she had known him, had loved him, she never felt out of place. In everything, she was always conscious of her self-importance; her value to him and she cherished the precious feeling. She always felt he needed her, the same, if not more than she needed him.

This feeling of displacement; the idea of being excluded from his planning and thought process hurt deeper than she imagined. They were supposed to be a team, equal partners in everything, but he was creating a silo around himself; a vault of private deliberations and decisions where there seemed to be no space and no need for her presence.

Before he could answer, a knock came; lunch was being served.

XXXXXX

"What!...What just happened?" Caleb yelled, jarring Fitz out of his silent recollection. He put down his phone and looked around the table. He found the focal point of his anger in Cyrus, whose mocking smile supplied the answer.

"How did you do it old man?...It's illegal. You can't fucking do that! You can't shut down my Twitter account. You perverted ass bandit!"

"Caleb," Celeste cried in misery at her son's rudeness and offensive remarks.

Cyrus' remained unperturbed. "I can and I did," he took a sip from his wine and folded his hands. Caleb did not know him but soon he would understand the scope of Cyrus' power. "You will not ever tweet a negative comment about this family. Anything and everything you want to say publicly about the Grant family has to be given clearance. Do you understand?"

Caleb narrowed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He looked from Cyrus to Fitz and back again. "Freedom of speech doesn't apply in this family does it? You all want to control everything I say and do, even who I date. You want me to ask your permission for everything and if I don't what will you do? Cut off the money? Cut me off from MY family? What?"

If he pushed them, they could and they would. Everyone knew that.

He turned his rage on his mother who visibly shrunk into her chair. "Is this the life you want for your sons? You want HIM," he disdainfully threw a slight glance to Fitz before continuing, "to control us all like that? You should have never brought us into this. You knew!...You knew what type of people they were and what they were capable of but you still let us come here and pretend to be a part of their family. This isn't my family. NONE of you are my family. I'd rather have no one than deal with this bullshit….I'm out."

Abruptly he stood and left the room. Distraught, Celeste ran after him, calling his name.

A steaming plate of the main course was served. When the food was placed in front of Olivia, she took a whiff, grimaced, groaned and broke from the table in a hasty exit to the nearest toilet; the croak was barely audible behind her covered mouth, "Gonna be sick."

XXXXXX

She would have asked Olivia how she was feeling or if she was alright, but something about the defensive posture and the tense muscles at her back made her rethink the use of common civilities. And the look on her son's face as she passed him in the hall was a clear answer to the unasked question; neither of them were alright.

"We're leaving…first thing in the morning," Nattie announced as she knocked lightly on the open door before entering the bedroom.

"What?" Olivia asked in alarm and confusion as she turned away from the bay window to focus on her mother in law. It was an effort to clear her mind of the curt, forced conversation she had with her husband seconds ago, where her only response to his inquiry about her health was a blunt, "Fine". Repeating it three times in the same dry monotone was frustrating enough for him to walk away.

"The family…we're packing and leaving."

"Why?...You were supposed to stay for another two days." She knew the reason but couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice.

The two women regarded each other with an open admiration that allowed for silent communication and comprehension.

Nattie nodded once, confident that Olivia understood the necessity of vacating for the sake of privacy between her and her husband and there was no reason to rehash the day's events.

"Will you tell him not to run?" Nattie asked as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her voice was casual, non-threatening. Aware of Olivia's power and influence in Fitz's life, it was the question that had to be asked.

"No….I…I wouldn't do that to him, if it was what HE really wanted. I just," she took a deep breath struggling to gather her scattering thoughts. "He said he didn't want it; he said he wasn't ready. But now…he changed….he's changing and I…."

"Is he….or is he growing stronger?" Nattie inquired.

She shook her head against Nattie's observation. "That's not….You heard what he did to Sydney, that's not Fitz. He doesn't do things like that. He doesn't go off and make decisions for everyone, without…."

"Without you?" Nattie finished. She gave Olivia a warm smile with no judgement, "You do realize that we were planning to do far worse to her and without telling Fitz, I might add."

Abashed, Olivia returned the smile. "Yeah well, you and I…we can do the dirty work. Not Fitz, not him…I need him to stay clean. He's not us. He's hopeful, idealistic. I need him to stay on the good side…I need him…." She paused, hesitant not willing to complete the sentence.

Nattie finished it for her. "Not to turn into his father."

Olivia frowned, slightly irritated that the woman could read her thoughts.

Nattie didn't blame her. Her marriage to Fitz's father was a nightmare, a daily ordeal of indifference, manipulation and miserable silence but it had not started out that way. It seemed the more power Big Jerry obtained, the more he became, in one word, a monster. But that would never be Fitz. She was confident of that but how could she assure Olivia to believe the same?

"When he was about 10 he told us he was going to try out for the basketball team. Jerry was just getting interested in local politics but he was still a wealthy and prominent businessman, with a lot of influence. And determined never to allow his son's to fail, he had a private conversation with the basketball coach and made sure he understood the consequences if Fitz did not make the team and without question, he had to be part of the first string. Jerry had no knowledge of or any confidence in Fitz's ability. It didn't matter to him….Well you can imagine what happened when Fitz found out."

Olivia laughed; a deep, rich laugh that felt good as it vibrated through her insides. The day had been filled with such turmoil that a brief jovial moment left her body feeling languid and calm; she had been wound up tight for too long.

Nattie's smiled widened. "Fitz refused to play and no one could make him change his mind. He was a great player but he suited up only to ride the bench. The coach was beyond frustrated. He called me over and over again, desperate for someone to force Fitz to change his mind. Fitz told him that he would only play when the team thought he was good enough to be their captain. He would help coach the players and when they voted him as captain then he would play…And they did and he played."

She paused and waited for the point of her story to register; which did not take long. Olivia knew Fitz very well; in so many ways that Nattie had no knowledge of. She could still remember the 14 year old little girl who looked up at him with the admiration of an older brother who instantly became her best friend.

Still, she had the making of her son; she helped shape him into the man he was today and she knew, beyond doubt that he was not, nor would he ever be his bastard father.

"He doesn't want anything he didn't earn on his own. There are no shortcuts for someone like Fitz. He has to feel like he's good enough to lead and that he's earned the faith everyone put him."

XXXXXX

"Where's Caleb?" came the low, husky voice in greeting as he entered the bedroom and closed the door. In response, he felt a twitching in his pants. She was wearing one of his basketball t-shirts and nothing else. He could see her taut nipples through the cotton fabric. He loved it when she wore his clothing.

She never failed to arouse him. Often just the thought of her was enough to send his senses into hyper-drive. And whether an opportunity for immediate satisfaction was present or not, he generally welcomed the feeling and the excitement inherent with it.

He hoped she would have fallen asleep by now. She was tired, it was past midnight and he had been gone almost an hour. But he knew her better than that. He knew she would diligently forestall sleep to wait for every detail.

From across the room, he continued staring until her frown of confusion deepened and he realized devouring her with his eyes was inappropriate and uninvited. He cleared his throat and went to sit on the edge of the bed, damning himself for not taking that extra walk around the house in the cold night air before coming in. He had too much adrenaline pumping in his veins; too much pent up energy that he wanted to expel – on her.

"Passed out…in bed," he explained curtly.

He recognized the look in Caleb's eyes when he left the table at lunch; he knew that simmering level of anger and resentment. He felt it before; harbored it for years. When he was that age, he often carried it around with him, ready to lash out and do something stupid at the least bit of provocation. So when he heard Caleb storm out of the house after an argument with Sydney, he assigned a security detail to discreetly keep an eye on him.

Hours later, security alerted him and he insisted on personally going to retrieve him. Relying on the intoxication and levity of patrons too busy to pay attention to the man concealing his identity behind a baseball cap, they found him in a bar, drunk, belligerent and picking fights to affirm his manhood.

They took him out the back way. The cool, brisk air sobered Caleb a bit and he finally noticed the presence of his older brother – the true target of his anger. After two swing and misses, Fitz mercifully let him get one off. His temper still wouldn't calm and he tried to get another one in, which was beyond what Fitz would allow, so he sent him doubling over in pain. It wasn't enough for Fitz either. He still felt the need for a release.

Olivia watched as he continued to undress in silence. She had difficulty discerning his emotions. She couldn't tell if he was still angry about their fight earlier in the day or if something happened with his brother that he refused to talk about. She was becoming irritated with the prospect of having to drag every detail out of him, when he could just tell her and be done with it all.

She saw something else too - something more basic, primal, almost savage; not brutal but predatory; a low thrum of potent arousal. But in the context of events, that couldn't possibly make sense, could it?

Only after she blinked several times did she notice the mark under his eye. Disturbed, she strode over and took his face in her hands, examining him closer. "You let him hit you, didn't you?"

Her frown deepened at the wound. It wasn't very big but it was noticeable and she didn't like his beautiful face being scarred.

He kept his eyes closed and gently removed his face from her hand. Her touch was light but it might as well had been a vice grip. Her hands were cool and he felt so hot. He wanted to fling her on the bed; rip the shirt off and plunge himself deep inside her warmth; he could be sheathed within her in seconds.

"He's a man…he needed to get it out."

She sucked her teeth in irritation, "And how many times did you hit him?"

"It doesn't matter," he dismissed as he stood from the bed and pulled off his shirt. He stared down at her; his eyes automatically resting on her full lips. He could kiss her right now, bruise her lips, leave them swollen but her frown stalled him.

He was slightly embarrassed; he was desperate but couldn't bring himself to ask her to press pause on all their other issues and let him fuck her – quick and hard. He didn't want the intimacies, caresses and measured movements of making love. There would be enough time and he had enough skill to make her scream but he wouldn't drag it out.

He should have been able to calm the blood pumping fast within him but he couldn't, not while knowing how easy it would be to spread her legs wide to accommodate him. He had to walk away; it was becoming painful to stand there restraining himself.

She folded her arms and stared at him; not at all satisfied with his half-answers. "Fitz…." she began to demand.

He cut her off with a loud groan; the blood required for an intelligent conversation was already rushing in the opposite direction. He edged around her and with a voice deep and clipped, he said, "Liv…. I can't talk about it anymore, not now. I can't..."

She could insist upon getting her way; be just as stubborn as he was. And she wanted to demand that he talk to her now to resolve their issues. She would not go to bed with the residuals of their argument or the resulting events lying between them. But as she watched him walk away, something in the hardness of his body and the tension in his muscles stopped her. She thought if she touched him he might explode into shards. It had to be exhaustion – not just physically but mentally as well.

She stood alone in their bedroom and felt the twinges of empathy slowly well up within her. In her mind's eye, she saw him in a way she had never fully contemplated before. Her priority was him and their marriage; everyone else was a concern, but a secondary one, particularly in how they affected him. For him, though, there was so much more. True, she was his priority but he had to balance the responsibility he had toward his entire family, including Celeste, Caleb and Joshua. And his influence was widening as Celeste seemed to abdicate more and more decisions to Fitz as the "head of the family". He felt an obligation to every one of them and it was a heavy weight to bear.

It could be a solitary position, filled with uncertainty and chance; he could feel alone, with no one by his side to support the load – without her. And suddenly she saw his exhaustion as something more than the fights with her, Sydney and his brother. It was a weariness of isolation; the divide with her that dampened his spirit. He needed her.

She was already undressing before she made the conscious decision. They would talk later, there was time to talk. Right now, she needed him as much as he needed her and neither of them should feel alone.

XXXXXX

"I need you….I'm sorry I…" she heard no more. She watched the movement of his lips, abandoning the effort to trying to hear him over rushing waters but the rising steam thickened and obscured his face, creating a fog in her head. Still she felt him; his large hands – one holding her face, the other somewhere on her body, holding her upright against the shower wall.

She couldn't answer and thankfully he didn't require one. Her presence alone, open and willing, was all the consent he needed. She felt lost in the haze; the urgency of his desire dripping, infused inside of her. She felt dizzy, almost intoxicated as kisses of varying intensity, nearly bites, travelled down her body.

She had no idea how much her body needed this; how it screamed for him – a hunger that competed against his own. She felt fevered; the water was cooling but she remained afire.

He was on his knees before her, one of her legs propped on his shoulder. One flick of his tongue and her she was weak; she began to sink. "Hold on!" he demanded against smooth, soft thighs. She obeyed, holding on to his shoulders, his head anything she could grip as he held her close to his face, drowning himself into her wetness.

"Fuck this." Somewhere through the rushing of waters, she heard the impatient growl and then she was being swept up in to his arms and carried from the shower. She gave no thought to how he managed it; her consciousness was filled with the warmth of his skin; wet, slippery, yet blazing. Her tongue glided along the base of his neck; then she bit him – hard enough to mark him.

He almost dropped her. "Shit!"

Shower-sex had pleasurable merits but in this moment, it only frustrated him more. She had to be flat on her back, open, spread out before him; he needed full uninhibited access. And no sooner had he laid her on the thick hearth rug to dry before the fire, than he buried his head between her thighs, once again to finish what he had started.

He loved her screams, especially when they came out as nonsensical, incomplete words that couldn't quite formulate and connect into speech and when she gave up trying and the only thing escaping her mouth were groans, whimpers and cries of ecstasy.

She came hard; hands clutched in fists full of carpet; her back bowed from the possession of the release. It was powerful; disconnecting her into a million pieces, as if she existed somewhere apart from a solid world, in a place where she floated like particles through space; gliding on air, too high to come down.

The drug was potent; traveling through her bloodstream, infecting her, freeing her. She could feel him entering her swiftly, so thick and hard; piercing to her womb and causing her to catapult again; panting, breathless and unable to move. He remained still.

He groaned at the contact; her muscles tightened on him. It took all his will power to wait until her eyes opened. When she finally focused on him, rounded doe eyes clouded with desire, he spoke in a gruff whisper, a voice full of wonderment and awe, "You are so beautiful…so beautiful. I love you. God, I love you."

He didn't need her to answer in kind. He swallowed any response she tried to make; kissing her, ravaging her lips, allowing her to taste herself and knowing it would drive her insane. This was them; who they were at their core. Pushing each other to the edge; pulling back just before the fall then charging to the limit; a pulse-pounding rhythm in the ultimate expression of love: the surrender of their souls.

"I need you," he groaned in earnest before biting her earlobe. Then he moved and she tried to move with him but he pressed her harder against the rug, stifling her movements, forcing her to remain still.

Her hands threaded through his hair. She tugged and forced him to look at her, "Now!" she demanded and he came, plunging deeper, taking what he needed and giving what she yearned for.

XXXXXX

"Talk to me", she probed gently when they settled on the large couch in their bedroom suite. The room was warm enough; the fire was still going strong. All that covered them was a soft cashmere blanket large enough to envelope their naked bodies snuggled together.

Her fingers glided up and down the side of his chest; relaying the comfort of a judgement free zone. Whatever he said, they would work through it and deal with it.

"He acts without thinking. He's challenging me, wants to hurt me and in his….."He broke off abruptly and she could feel the rumble of laughter erupting in his chest and tickling her ear.

"Livvy," he began again through his smile and teasing voice. "If you want me tell you everything, you're going to have to let go of my balls."

They both laughed. Absentmindedly, her hand had travelled down his body and settled on stroking him. She loved touching his warm, solid, chiseled body and often did so by habit. She let go and invited him to continue.

"They said they wanted to keep their connection to me a secret, but Caleb was so determined to get at me, he didn't think that by doing so he was letting our relationship be known to Sydney. He's taken the choice out of everyone's hands now. I don't for one moment believe that Sydney is keeping it a secret. It won't take long for it to hit the press…."

She forced herself not to interrupt with questions as he continued to explain. When he found out about Caleb and Sydney, he knew immediately that they were using each other to get to him. He had been in discussions with Sydney's father on how best to handle the trouble she was in and knew she needed protection. He also knew he needed to distance himself from her, at least until his candidacy was secured.

Surprisingly, Congressman Tony Shaw hadn't been too adverse to the idea. Sydney was beautiful, intelligent and accomplished – on paper she would make a fine politician's wife. But it was Tony's ambition for the White House and the gentle, yet firm, coaxing by Sydney's father that sealed the deal. She would go back to the east coast, her father would take care of her situation and she would marry the Congressman in a simple, private ceremony.

"I get it…I understand and you were right, it's not the execution but the planning that I have a problem with," she admitted once she was sure he was done explaining.

"Livvy," he sighed. He knew that was the problem but he didn't know how to explain his reasons to her. It was much simpler explaining situations that felt detached, somehow removed from him. But this was personal.

She sat up to look at him. "I need you to tell me why," she said matter-of-factly; the earnest plea wasn't in her voice but it was in her eyes. He saw it; he felt it too. "This only works for me if I feel like we are doing it together, 100% together. And right now I don't feel like that. I feel like you are pursuing a goal and I'm tagging along for the ride. I can't do that; I can't be that person on the outside looking in. You know me; you know who I am. If…if this is not…"

"Stop!" he interrupted and squeezed her arms, sharply cutting off the toxic thought before it was completed. What he had with her was more important than anything in his life; she was the next breath he took. He could not live without her. It was an indisputable answer to what was unquestionable.

Her widened molten eyes remained fixed on him, reading and studying him; waiting for his next words. "I wasn't going to run. I didn't think I was ready. But I kept feeling like it was the coward's way out….It was fear – fear of losing, fear of not being good enough on my own."

He told her about his father's last video message to him and as much as he wanted to be angry, he had to acknowledge his father's point. He wanted to put off running for President, even though he was in a prime position to gain political favor and the opportunity to rally even more supporters may not come again. His decision to wait had been based on a lack of confidence in his ability to win and lead.

So he had to try, on his own. He hadn't told Cyrus or his mother but continued working privately with Leo to develop the strategy for his campaign. He had to prove to himself that he could do this without leaning on someone else; without looking for them to fix it for him; without the doubts and insecurities.

He hated the weakness in his voice; a manifestation of a disquieted mind. He never wanted to say this to her; to revisit the unpleasant times of their youth when his doubts led to foolish decisions and she had always been there to assure him. She shouldn't have to do it anymore. He shouldn't need her for that.

In the process of looking within for the strength he needed, he had shut her out and for that he was sorry.

"But I was wrong." His admission surprised her. "I asked you to stay while I talked to Sydney because I like us as a team. Even if we disagree and fight, it's still better with you. You keep me honest; I can't lie to myself about who I am or what I'm doing when I'm with you. No one gets anywhere alone and the only person I want to do this with is you. I can't do this without you but I don't want to feel like you're handling it for me either."

He didn't tell her that the rumors bothered him. He should not have cared but the repeated insinuations that his wife did all his thinking and decision making was starting to chafe. He didn't tell her but the look in her eyes told him that he didn't need to, she knew and he hoped she understood.

In the next long moments, she processed what he said and eventually nodded in acceptance. She didn't know if it answered all the questions nagging within her but for the time being she could resign herself to what he said.

He kissed her, he couldn't help it. Her frown of concentration was cute but he wanted to erase it. It was a long, luxurious, lingering kiss; the kind where all the world stood still and time held no consequence; where all that mattered was the person in your arms and the feeling of being whole; a completeness that set your spirit aglow.

She moved to straddle his lap, wrapping the blanket to cocoon them both. She cradled his hardness between her thighs and leaned forward to whisper against his lips, "You will make a GREAT President."

Holding her gaze, he shifted and slowly, inch by magnificent inch, embedded himself inside of her. "Only with you Livvy…only with you."

XXXXXX

"Who?...What?!"

She heard him roar into the security coms phone, that he was forced to pick up when it would not stop ringing. As timing went, it wasn't that bad; a few minutes earlier and it would have caught them in the midst of a very gratifying experience.

She was stretched out by his side, the heat of his body still radiating, creating a blissful drowsiness. She hid her ridiculously happy smile in her pillows, the serenity of a calm mind and satisfied body clouding her senses. She hadn't paid attention to his conversation until she felt the bed dip and saw that he was getting up to put on clothes.

"What?!...Where are you going?...It's almost two in the morning," Olivia said, now wide awake, looking from him to the clock, the euphoric feeling, regretfully, fading fast.

"Security says Senator Trenton and his wife are here," Fitz explained quickly, "They're looking for their daughter."

Olivia stared at him blankly, not quite sure she heard what she thought she heard. None of what he said made any sense and yet she was sure the fog that came in the aftermath of mind-blowing sex had vanished. "What?" she asked again, as she too looked for something suitable to wear to greet their unwelcome guests.

Fitz repeated the same explanation, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice as this presented another family problem for them to deal with.

"Why are they here?" She knew Senator Phillip Trenton and his family had a winter vacation home locally as well; Fitz and Olivia attended a couple parties there during their last stay. But the couples were not close friends, in fact, once it was made clear that the Trenton's had an open marriage in which they discreetly invited outside partners to participate collectively, Fitz and Olivia became determined to avoid them. They had rejected the subtle propositions to join their 'orgy sessions' more than once.

"They said their daughter hasn't come home and they think she's here….with Joshua."

She was still adjusting her blouse as she flew down the hallway barely catching up to Fitz in time before he could turn the knob on Joshua's bedroom door, without knocking.

"Fitz," she whispered urgently as she pulled his arm back. Her eyes widened in distress, "You can't just burst in there…what if they're….you know."

Fitz frowned. Stupidly, his brother having sex with a young girl in his house, with his mother's bedroom several doors down, hadn't occurred to him. He assumed it was a mistake, the girl was not here. He expected to find his brother sleeping and only wanted to wake him to confirm his assumptions. He was momentarily stunned. "He wouldn't…not here…he wouldn't. He's not even 18."

She gave him an impatient look as if he suddenly lost all ability to think logically. With an arm movement, she gestured him away from the door and put her ear to it. "I don't hear anything," she whispered.

"Liv we don't have time for this. Her parents are here," Fitz said, his annoyance making him speak louder than intended. And, judging from the sudden noise of shuffling and hushed conversation, the persons inside the bedroom heard him too.

Olivia rolled her eyes at her husband and knocked softly on the door. "Joshua, open up. We need to talk to you."

Fitz could've lived an entire life time and it wouldn't have been long enough to prepare him for what he saw when he entered his Joshua's bedroom. His baby brother reddened with embarrassment, clothing disheveled, bed sheets crumpled with a young girl who looked pretty much the same, in a room that reeked of sexually active musty bodies was information overload and he would have preferred for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Almost mechanically, his eyes darted over to the bedside table to find the open, condom wrapper - empty. He closed his eyes and groaned, praying for divine intervention.

Olivia stepped forward and looked directly at the young girl. She wondered briefly how Joshua met her but put the question off until later. She had been introduced to the 15 year old by her parents before but could not recall her name. "Um…"

Stammering a bit, Joshua filled in, "O…Olivia, Fitz, this…this is Leila…."

"His girlfriend," Leila completed the sentence, with beautiful bold green eyes that dared anyone, including Joshua, to disagree with her status. Joshua's eyes nervously roved around the room; he didn't confirm the relationship.

"Leila, your parents are here," Olivia informed them. She stared at the young girl; her beauty was remarkable. Her petite frame, thick black hair and olive skin had all been bestowed by her Belizean mother. The eyes were her Caucasian father's.

"Tell them I'll be home by breakfast," she quickly answered. She was barely 5 feet tall but the stature of her confidence seemed to double her size. She was not at all intimidated or embarrassed by the scene.

Had she done this before? Olivia's eyes narrowed on the little girl. Her mind gradually corrected the misconception of the presumed innocence of all girls her age. Her voice had been understandingly cool, even and non-judgmental; the girl's disrespectful attitude was pushing her to change tactics in the most unfriendly way.

Fitz finally spoke up, directing his words to Joshua alone. He was not going to entertain a conversation with this young girl; he barely spared her a glance. "Joshua, you have 5 minutes to say goodbye and send this young lady downstairs to go home with her parents. Then you and I will talk in the study before you leave with your mother."

He couldn't help the harsh irritation in his voice. He didn't want to deal with another brother making foolish short-term decisions with lasting consequences. They had a plan; no one was supposed to know who they were, it was what they wanted. They practically begged to retain their anonymity; their desire for a normal life was priority. A worthless plan now, because he was certain Leila's social media pages were full of selfies with Joshua where she broadcast her relationship with the "Governor's brother".

Joshua's head hung low in shame but he raised it when directly addressed and quickly nodded in contrite acceptance. Leila did not. "NO! He can't leave. We were supposed to spend the day together…One more day…He can't leave…You can't make him leave." She was nearly shrieking in hysteria.

Fitz ignored her. "Five minutes Joshua." He commanded over the shrill voice. He left the room with his wife.

XXXXXX

She found the treehouse by accident and smiled in delight at her discovery. He kept promising to show her the secret place he built with his brother when they were young but had not yet found the time. It wasn't sturdy; it wouldn't hold her weight and despite her eagerness, she refrained from attempting the climb and admired it from the bottom instead.

She slipped away while he said his goodbye's to the family and held a private conference with his mother. They agreed to allow Nattie to handle the diversion of potential media attention and the protection of Celeste and her sons.

He would be looking for her, she knew, but the last few days of constant activity - problems, arguments and fights - had clouded her brain and she needed clarity. She needed to breathe. So she walked and walked, allowing herself to get lost in the trees. She wasn't afraid. She had been given wide space for solitude but with several security agents in shouting distance, she wasn't really ever alone.

She once told him that she wanted to come here to get away from the noise in their lives, all the turmoil that threatened to tear them down; to find silence and peace, within each other. That peace had been threatened by challenges internal and external; she needed to find it again.

He had apologized – once and again. And as if the reminder of the value of their partnership hit him like a blow to the chest, as soon as the Trenton's had been ushered out of the house and his brother put to bed, he pulled her, quite forcibly, to him and hugged her so tight, she thought she would suffocate, but didn't complain. She could feel the relief washing through him from her mere presence. Her small body pressed to his and thin arms wrapped around him was enough; he wasn't alone.

Discussions with The Trenton's were put off due to the lateness of the hour; a reproof of his brother was half-hearted and would have to be revisited at a later date but at the time, sheer exhaustion overcame them and they fell fast asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

Now, though, the serenity she found from their previous discussion seemed to dissolve. The implications of what he had done affected her deeply; deeper than she could find the words to explain.

Almost since the day they met, a certain level of trust existed between them; neither asked or demanded it; it was simply there, given out of innocence and need - for a friend, for honesty and for acceptance. The love had grown beyond their expectation, almost against their will; undeniable and unavoidable.

In the years since, they breached it over and over again; forgiveness was sought and granted but how many more times could a wound be re-cut? Were these only superficial wounds that could be healed before the fatal blow was dealt? Every incident seemed to chip away at an armor that shielded them; protected them; made them invincible.

She was jealous and offended that he could find a confidant in people that were not her; that he could seek counsel and trust in others and allow them to fill the place that she felt was hers by right. Was this how he felt when she sought help from Miguel to free Huck; when she didn't trust him with her thoughts and intentions as he hadn't trusted her now? That she had betrayed the place he owned by right and allowed another person to fill it? A sinking feeling developed in her stomach and she tried to stamp it down; cut it off before it created a hollowness she couldn't get rid of.

If they didn't trust each other now, where would they be when he became President? Who would they be when the complexities of his position were realized; when she had to compete for his listening ear or his devoted heart? She wanted to cry as the vision of a cold, distant, lonely marriage – trapped by circumstances and political obligations – came into view.

"I'm sorry it's too old to climb," said the deep, soothing voice from behind her. She had been staring off at anything and everything; so consumed with speculations that she hadn't heard him approach.

Blinking back the looming tears, she gave him a small smile and he frowned; seeing beyond the half-gesture to the disquiet that stirred her from within. "Let's go up higher; there's an area for a picnic."

"A picnic? Here? Now?" She chuckled at the idea of sitting on cold earth, amidst tall trees in an area that had not been designed for the activity.

He took her gloved hand, led her uphill and without a word took off the backpack and retrieved the blanket to spread on the ground. He was prepared. It was a beautiful spot; the trees had been cleared and the view allowed them to see down into the valley and far off to the river flowing calm with rippling waves. She barely spared a glance to her surroundings; she watched the movements of his body, his hands and the frown of concentration on his face. She smiled at his thoughtfulness and said, "Thank you."

That made him turn in surprise, "What are you thanking me for?"

She shrugged casually, "I don't know…everything… this….you, thinking of me."

His reaction was unexpected. She thought he would return her smile, maybe express appreciation for her taking notice of his gesture. But he didn't. His lips tightened and he shook his head at the wonder in her statement as if thinking of her was a brand new concept.

Securing their blanket, he retrieved thermoses of hot cocoa and wrapped peanut butter, banana sandwiches. "Will you sit with me?" he finally said in soft invitation and she readily accepted.

They ate in silence until he spoke, "I talk to Teddy sometimes…in my head; now more than ever." He refused to meet her eyes, busying himself with cleaning up their sandwich wrappings. "It sounds crazy right?"

It didn't. She only wondered why he talked to Teddy but wouldn't talk to her. She wasn't given a chance to respond, he continued talking, "It's like…being able to talk to someone who knows you completely but being able to speak without condemnation, without guarding my words, without wondering what he'll think of my weakness and my…fears; without burdening someone else to find a solution."

"Why 'now more than ever'?"

He told her about his father's video and the taunting challenge to pursue the Presidency. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to dismiss it. I wanted to forget about it…and I just didn't want to talk about it. But…I am my father's son, his namesake and I want to make him proud, I can't help that feeling. Still, I needed to make sure I wanted it too…I won't allow myself to be used to fulfill anyone else's dreams – not Cyrus, my mother or my father's memory."

He heard some people say that with time the memory of their dead loved ones began to fade. It wasn't like that for him. He still felt his brother and his father's presence with him constantly as if they stood clearly visible before him – watching and waiting.

He finally looked at her, "I do Liv…I want it. I want to be President…I know I'm asking a lot of you; you've given up a lot for me….but can you do this with me. You're the most important person in my life. That won't ever change; the love I have for you will never change. You are my best friend, the person I trust above everyone else. I'm nothing without you Livvy, you know that. I need you."

She nodded once, taking a few deep breaths to control her emotions. His eyes were clear, focused and intent on every expression on her face. The blues blazed so fiercely, they seemed to glow. "OK…then we'll do it."

She was less than enthusiastic and he knew his words were not enough to erase all her concerns. "I may not win."

"You will win," she said with unhesitating confidence. It wasn't optimism; he knew she meant what she said. Once he entered the race, he would win. She smiled widely and concluded, "And when you do, you better be happy or I'll kick your ass."

XXXXXX

She mocked him. "So you can surf, ski and snowboard but you have a problem ice skating?"

He laughed. "I can do this. I'm very good at ice skating. The skates are defective."

Slowly, carefully he made his way around the crowded rink for the second time. He wasn't good at ice skating but it didn't matter; he was simply thrilled that he could keep his promise and from time to time do something 'normal' with her. Thankfully, due to the weather, they had to bundle up under knit caps and scarves, which served to hide their identity pretty well. They still managed to get several double takes and stares from people who were sure they recognized them but were too uncertain to say anything.

He left her on the rink, while he went to change out his shoes. From the sideline, he watched her skillfully, almost effortlessly go around and around with the grace of a dancer, moving to the beat of the music. She was beautifully mesmerizing; singing the words to the song, navigating through the other skaters, completely isolated in the world of her own.

He was satisfied staring at her and remained lost in his own thoughts of appreciation until he heard Matt whisper at his side, "Sir, you have a call." Their security had successfully blended with the crowd, drawing less attention.

Matt gave him the private phone that very few people had the number to.

He was distracted; still fixated on his wife, the sight of her genuine smile of enjoyment and contentment warming him thoroughly. The feeling delighted him but it turned cold in the next minute as he suddenly recognized the voice on the other end.

"It's time….I need your brother's journal."

Fitz was speechless; a feeling of panic gripping his entire body. Gideon excitedly rattled off details Fitz neither heard nor cared about. He had forgotten about Gideon; forgot the story he was anonymously helping him expose. It had been a fledgling idea presented before he became Governor and driven by a desire for vengeance and justice for his brother, he fully supported it. Roadblocks and false leads tanked the story time and time again, leading Fitz to believe that nothing would come of it. But Gideon wasn't the cub reporter he was years ago, he had grown into a respected investigative journalist, with increased tenacity. There was a story here and it would be the biggest story of his life; he wasn't just going to let it go.

Under different circumstances, he would have applauded Gideon's diligence and admired his unswerving dedication to what was morally the right thing to do. But that was before he decided to run for President. And there was no way a candidate for President could participate, secretly or otherwise, in exposing the US military for condoning and covering up countless male sexual assaults by top-ranking officers.

He felt torn, guilty and selfish. "Now is not….I can't…."

"Sir," Gideon pleaded, "Please. Your brother's journal, his words describing his attack and treatment by the military is exactly what this story needs. You agreed to…"

"I know what I agreed to," his voice was harsh, almost angry but more at himself than Gideon's poor timing.

Like radar, Olivia sensed his distress and suddenly she was staring at him, making her way through the crowds to exit the rink and come to him.

"Please Sir, can we just meet? Let me show you all the evidence I have….Once you see what I have, I know you'll…."

"I'll let you know," Fitz disconnected the line seconds before Olivia reached him.

How would he prepare his wife, his mother for the possible fallout? He was more than a little shaken and it must have shown all over his face because Olivia grabbed his arm and held on tightly; her own worry heightening as she asked, "Fitz, babe…what is it?...What's going on?"

XXXXXX

Her team left her office, then Mellie stepped in. "How are you feeling Olivia?"

"I'm fine Mellie, thanks for asking," Olivia responded flatly. It was still morning and about 15 different people already asked how she was feeling. The flu wasn't a big deal, people got it every day and she was getting annoyed by all the attention.

She continued putting files away to pack up her desk, a sign that she was on her way out but Mellie ignored the hint, closed the door behind her and waddled to the nearest seat.

She watched Mellie slowly maneuver into the armed chair, hand protecting her rounded belly. What was she? Six or seven months now? And she had never been more beautiful; the pregnancy glow was true.

Olivia had hoped the envious feeling would have gone away by now but it hadn't and she prayed even harder that none of these emotions were present on her face for the world to see. She cleared her throat and directed her eyes back to the files on her desk. She took the deep breath needed to compose herself and asked, "What can I do for you Mellie?"

"You once came to me with a genuine offer to help, no tricks, no gimmicks. I'm giving you the same courtesy, Olivia."

Olivia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. So Mellie finally realized the truth of the warning Olivia gave her so long ago – she had always been and always would be a pawn in some political game. She would never be allowed to achieve the goals and dreams she sought. Her die had been cast and her future had been set. Olivia's eyes darted to Mellie's stomach and pain of sadness hit her, knowing the baby had not been part of Mellie's plan and she likely never wanted it.

Olivia sat down and invited her to continue. "I know he's running and I know he will win."

It wasn't public knowledge that Fitz decided to run; they were still feeling out supporters and donors for the capital needed to run his campaign.

"They will try to beat him, but they know he will win too. They've already started working on Tony," when Olivia opened her mouth to protest, Mellie put her hand up to stall her. "Don't bother denying it Olivia; they know he's the VP choice." She sighed, winced and shifted in the chair; it was uncomfortable for her. Olivia wanted to offer her the couch but she knew Mellie would not accept it; she didn't like people feeling sorry for her.

Mellie finally found a less painful position in the chair and continued, "Fitz has always been more liberal than the party liked but now, his views are making some important people very uncomfortable. It was fine for California – this is a liberal state but now he'll be President….He has the ability to unite the two parties in ways no other politician has before. We both know this country thrives on political bi-partisan in-fighting. Taking that away means losing millions; that can't happen….Fitz can't be turned, so they'll break Tony, create a divide between them, foster mistrust until they eventually end up on opposite sides of everything."

Olivia frowned, thinking. She had witnessed Fitz and Tony's interactions a few times and they were more than cordial or professional colleagues; there seemed to be a budding friendship developing. Beyond political agendas, they respected each other personally and found they had much in common. She wondered how or what would be used to break that but this was a long game; it would be a gradual insurrection.

Mellie's expression never changed, she seemed resigned, resolved to fate. "Because, although Fitz will win, he'll likely be assassinated during his first term and Tony will be in the perfect position to take over."

XXXXXX

"Leo what are you doing here?" Fitz asked impatiently.

Leo looked around the waiting room to ensure they had complete privacy and smiled cheerfully, handing his briefcase to a young blond haired woman accompanying him.

"Just checking on my candidate and his wife. I heard you were going in for a physical and needed to make sure you had a clean bill of health. So….everything's good?...No leaks, drips, lingering coughs or genital sores, right?"

Fitz rolled his eyes. "Go away Leo, everything's fine." In fact, he wasn't due for a physical for a few more months but agreeing to one was the only way to get Olivia to agree to come see the doctor as well. He was worried about her persistent symptoms; the flu didn't usually last this long.

"Where's Mrs. Grant?"

"She'll be out soon…We don't need you here Leo. You can go," his insistent, dismissive attitude seemed to have no effect on Leo or his assistant. He continued smiling in that demented way of his and his assistant mirrored him.

"This is Jenna," he introduced. "She's going to be helping us out; planning your 40th Birthday party, making sure all the right people, with all the right money will be there and making sure they get charmed into supporting your run."

Fitz was already shaking his head. "I never agreed to this; I don't want a huge birthday party."

Jenna spoke up, thinking his declination had to do with her qualifications. "Governor, don't worry, I will take care of everything." Jenna smiled even brighter as she took the seat next to Fitz. She was starstruck; looking at him as if he hung the moon and the stars. "I feel so privileged to be working for you Sir; I have admired you for a very long time. I will do anything…."

Leo abruptly cut her off, "Calm down Jenna." He took the seat on the opposite side of Fitz and continued, "But she's right, everything will be taken care of. Sir...you know the routine, in order to run we need money; there are people out there who have the money we need and they are just waiting to give it to you. But it means you're going to have to charm, schmooze and basically kiss some asses, hopefully most of them aren't hairy asses."

Only Jenna laughed. Fitz groaned in irritation.

Meanwhile, in her private room, Olivia sat on the exam table staring off at nothing in particular.

"Mrs. Grant….Mrs. Grant…Olivia, are you alright?"

The doctor had been calling her name repeatedly but Olivia hadn't heard her till now. "Uh…Yes, I just, I just need a moment, alone, please."

"Of course, no problem. Do you want me to get your husband? Is he in the waiting room?"

Again, it took Olivia several moments to respond and remember the question she had been asked. "Um, yes, I…I mean no. He's in for his physical as well. He's probably still with the doctors. It's OK. I'll be fine in a moment."

Dr. Bennett hesitated but then nodded and left the room.

She could feel her eyes starting to burn with unshed tears and she let them fall. She gave herself permission to let all the emotions come upon her; needing the release of anxiety. She was scared; terrified really, the reality of what was happening to her was difficult to grasp. She hadn't expected it; yet, she had known it. She knew she didn't have the flu; she knew it was something more. It wasn't just her missed periods; her body had felt different, it had been changing. But she talked herself out of it; convinced herself that it was just the flu and she would be over it in no time. She had been afraid to hope.

She placed her hands over her stomach, marveling at how flat it was still; searching for some sign of life inside of her. It was too soon to expect movement, she knew that but she still felt something. She wouldn't be able to describe it another person but it was there. It was a knowing; a firm belief that a miracle spark had been ignited inside of her and it would grow into the best parts of her and Fitz – a beautiful child.

In the clinical silence, she heard her own heartbeat, steady and strong. Her life would sustain the life within; she was the protector of the helpless form nestled inside; it would rely on her for its existence. The precious privilege of motherhood was now hers and she felt an overwhelming honor she had never known.

She was pregnant. A slow beautiful smile formed that held no trace of fear, only joy.

(A/N: I apologize sincerely because I know it's been a very long time. Thank you for your continued interest in this story and taking the time to read it. FYI, Congressman Shaw's actual first name on the show was Jacob but I wasn't going to name another character Jake so I named him Tony instead. Side Note: This is the first story I've ever received over 1000 reviews. I feel immensely honored. Thank you to anyone who has ever reviewed any of my stories. I appreciate it very much. Hope you enjoyed it. Have a great week.)