The King Stands Alone by Around Here Somewhere

Category: Scandal
Genre: Angst, Hurt-Comfort
Language: English
Characters: Fitzgerald G./Fitz, Olivia P.
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-13 15:42:38
Updated: 2015-11-25 18:20:50
Packaged: 2015-12-06 14:26:26
Rating: M
Chapters: 25
Words: 72,199
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Summary: After his suicide attempt, the secret service cuts him a deal so that it doesn't get out. Fitz
has to go to therapy, with a doc named Elliot who could care less who Fitz is. Meanwhile, Fitz is also
trying to piece his life back together, and figure out what exactly his life actually is. M for lots of
reasons.
 1. Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I **surprise** don't own scandal. If i did - oh, we won't even get started there...

A/N: An AU spinoff after the Fourth Season opener, kinda. It's – I don't know how to explain it other
than this: It's after Gerry dies, and it's before the season that we're in really takes off. So, essentially
an alternate universe after Gerry dies, and season 3. However, it's got a lot of other stuff in it too. It's
a closer look into Fitz, and what makes him what he is, and who he is. Essentially, a character study
in the form of a fanfic. And, obviously, there will be plenty of Olitzy stuff because – Hello, I'm me.
However, the whole story will be written from Fitz's point of view. Enjoy my Lovelies :)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter One:

"Mr. President, do you know why you're here?"

Fitz looked up from his highly overpriced Italian Leather shoes to a man with messy slightly ginger
hair and glasses. He had thick framed black glasses, and a mustache. He was almost a caricature of
what he would expect an older version of a professor to look like. His cardigan, and olive shirt were
nothing really to look at or envy, and his shoes were scuffed up, overused. He was a skinny little man,
clearly not from inside of the beltway, and there was absolutely nothing about him that told him that he
was going to help. These were all of the things that made Fitz wonder where the secret service, where
Cyrus had found him. Dr. Elliot Winters, he didn't look like an Elliot, he looked like a David, or a
Daniel, or maybe even a Douglass. There was no honor, or valor to him. He looked like a mouse. A
man who hid from the world behind his text books and his thoughts – a man who might not have much
to show for it – but a man who was much smarter than him.

"Sir?" Elliot spoke up, "Sir, for these sessions to help you, you're going to have to eventually speak
up."

Fitz said nothing, just continued to sit there, considering the man that was sitting across from him. He
had been doing the same thing for at least three sessions, just sitting there with Dr. Winters, who had
asked him to call him Elliot. A man who always dressed casually, whether they were meeting at the
White House, or they were meeting in his own offices, like they were today, away from the walls of
his prison. He took a deep breath as looked at the small stain on Elliot's collar. Coffee, or something
else that looked like it. Maybe tea. Maybe a stain he had earned while he was driving his kids to
daycare. The ring on his finger told Fitz that he was married, probably to the love of his life. A
woman he came home to, and she had things in her hair, and children clinging to her. It wasn't a house
in Vermont, it was an apartment on Sixth street, too small for their family, but they made it work. And
Fitz was jealous of him. Jealous of his mediocre life, his mediocre world where he couldn't even
imagine what Fitz had been through.

"Why don't you tell me something about yourself?" Fitz asked, setting his hand on his fist, leaning
against the arm of the couch he was on.

"You want to know about me, Mr. President?" Elliot asked, and when Fitz nodded, Elliot sighed
before he started to speak, "Well, I'm forty-two. I did my undergrad at a small liberal arts school in
Boston, and I graduated with my Doctorate from Harvard Med. I have a wife and three small
children, the youngest about your son Teddy's age. My wife's name is Helen, and she's a kindergarten
teacher. My kids are Henry, Michael, and Olivia. We call her Olive. And, I think our sessions would
be a lot more helpful if I was allowed to call you anything else besides 'Sir' or 'Mr. President'."

"Fitz," He said, more in shock – for obvious reasons – than he was willing to admit, "What's your
little girl's name?"

"Olive," Elliot replied, taking a deep breath, "Olivia – but we call her Olive."

"Right," Fitz nodded, perfect.

"Is there something wrong with the name?"

"No," Fitz said, shaking his head, "Nothing's wrong with it. It's a beautiful name."

"You know an Olivia, don't you?" He said, and Fitz stiffened up.

"Used to."

"Used to?" Elliot prompted, this was the most he had gotten out of Fitz in three sessions, he was just
trying to keep him talking, and Fitz knew it.

"Yeah, she left a little while ago," Fitz said.

"Were you close?" He asked, and Fitz shrugged – there was no use trudging that up right now.

"I'm here because the secret service is making me," Fitz tried to bury the trail that Elliot was trying to
go down.

"Sorry?" Elliot asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm here because there was a – situation," Fitz said calmly as he stretched his leg out just a little bit,
"And the Secret Service promised to keep quiet about it as long as I agreed to therapy, so here I am."

"Right," Elliot said, taking a deep breath, "You were sentenced to sessions with me, as I saw fit, until
I found that you were healed, whole, and no longer in danger."

"Right," Fitz said, setting both of his feet firmly on the ground, playing with the peeling cuticle on his
index finger, "So here I am."

"Fitz," Elliot tested out his new privilege, "I'll let you in on a little secret, if you don't start talking, I'm
going to have to bump you up to coming to see me three times a week instead of two. And it's always
going to be here."

"You don't want to do that," Fitz said, straightening his lapel, "I have a country to run."

"And exactly how are you going to do that if you're stringing yourself up to the window in the – Oval
Office, was it?" Elliot said, and Fitz furrowed his brow, "Sorry if you're offended, but I find it most
helpful to just be frank about what's happened. Now, it's been a month since it happened – would you
like to tell me what happened that night?"

"You have the report right there in your file," Fitz said, shifting slightly in his seat, "I'm sure you've
looked it over. Once or twice."

"I have," Elliot nodded, "But I want to hear it from you. All this report says is that one of your secret
service agents walked into the Oval Office, and cut you down from in front of a window that was out
of view of the cameras. He preformed CPR, and you were revived. You were then taken to the
hospital, and you were released the next morning after a quick counseling session."

"Forgive me if it's a little bit of a blur," Fitz shot back, and Elliot nodded.

"Well, why don't you tell me what you do remember."

"What I remember?" Fitz said, and Elliot nodded.

"For now, just the facts," He added on, "You don't have to get into the fine details – yet. I'll let you
know if I have any questions. Just what you remember. It helps to talk about it, helps you own it."

Own it?

"Fine," Fitz said, not talking, sitting in silence, hadn't really gotten him far, "I was in the Oval Office,
it was passed when I usually was there. I was sitting at my desk, and I wasn't in my right mind. I made
a call, and then I walked over to the window, and I grabbed the rope from the curtain."

"What were you thinking about?" Elliot asked, and Fitz just sort of looked at him, "What do you think
made you do it?"

"My son had just passed. We had had the funeral that morning."

"Who did you call?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember? It was the last call you were going to make, and you don't remember who it
was?" Elliot asked, "You don't remember who the last person you want to talk to before you die is?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Ok, were they there? Did they pick up?"

"No."

"Did you leave a message?"

"No."

"Ok," Elliot said, and he made a little note on Fitz's file, "Why doesn't it matter?"

"Why doesn't what matter?"

"Why doesn't it matter who it was?"

"Because they're no longer a part of my life," Fitz said, taking a deep breath.

"Is that because they didn't pick up? Because they couldn't tell the future that picking up that phone
might have stopped you? Do you think they didn't pick up the phone, magically knew the situation, and
didn't pick up on purpose? Because whoever it is doesn't care about you?"

"No," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "It was desperate. If she had known, she would have picked up.
And, that is completely separate from whether she – "

"She?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Fitz backtracked almost immediately, and Elliot's ears perked up.

"Well, see my problem is, Fitz," He took a deep breath, "I've seen a lot of patients, and a lot of
parents that have lost children. None of them are as high up as you, but I assume that's why I was
chosen to do this. I don't usually take politicians, or anyone near what you do. I usually work with
families, and kids, and parents who need help. But, besides that – Millions of people lose sons,
daughters, babies, and teenagers every day. I've talked to maybe a few hundred of them as patients,
but not one of them has attempted suicide, or attempted to hurt themselves in any way without already
having an underlying problem."

"Are you saying that my son dying in my arms isn't enough to warrant me wanting to hang myself?"

"Frankly? No," Elliot said, rather cavalierly as he pressed his glasses up his nose, "Do you have a
history of depression?"

"No."

"Ever been abused? Physically, Sexually, or Emotionally?"

"No."

"Now, come on," Elliot said, "Everyone's been emotionally abused at one point in their life."

"I said no," Fitz repeated himself, and Elliot nodded.

"Right, the big fancy President of the United States couldn't possibly be vulnerable," He said, and Fitz
leaned back, "Ok – who found you?"

"What?"

"Who found you, the night you tried to kill yourself?"

"Isn't that in the file?"

"No."

"Tom," Fitz said quietly.

"Tom, the agent that's standing outside the door right now?" Elliot asked, and Fitz nodded, as his
cuticle began to bleed, and he stopped picking at it.

"The very same."

"What's his job?"

"He's a secret service agent."

"But he's more than that. I can't imagine that just any agent is assigned to you."

"He's assigned to my detail," Fitz shrugged, "He's been assigned to my detail since the first election.
He's close."

"And was he there the night your son died?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with anything," Fitz said, and Elliot just made a note.

"Probably nothing," Elliot replied, looking over his folder at him, "And Tom, he probably knows you
better than you know yourself, right?"

"No," Fitz said, "Well, he probably knows me more than I've realized – but no. There's only one
person who knows me that well."

"And who is this person?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Your wife?"

"No," Fitz almost laughed, "No, she's not – no."

"And how is the first lady?" Elliot asked, and Fitz shrugged.

"She's fine."
"She just lost a child too, and she's fine?"

"She's ok," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded.

"How about Karen?"

"Karen requested to be sent back to school as soon as possible," Fitz said, and Elliot smiled slightly.

"And you let her?"

"Figured she was safer there."

"Safer?"

"I figured she would feel safer, back where she's been the last couple of years."

"Right," Elliot nodded, "Did you want her to go?"

"I didn't want to send them in the first place."

"And is that a point of contention, between you and the First Lady?"

"No," Fitz lied, "Boarding School is the natural choice. We both grew up in them."

"So, Fitz – why did you do it?" Elliot asked him, and he was a little confused.

"What? Send Karen back? Because she asked us – "

"No, why did you try to kill yourself?" Elliot asked him, and Fitz narrowed his gaze.

"I don't know."

"I think you do," Elliot said, not harshly, just as if he were stating the facts, "I think you know exactly
why. Or at least have a list of reasons somewhere in your head. And the reason that you're here? It's
because that list is still somewhere in that head of yours, but you've locked it away. And you're here,
because eventually it's going to resurface again, and we need to work through it before you decide
that you want to do something like that again."

Fitz said nothing.

"What do you have that's good in your life?"

"Teddy," Fitz said.

"Teddy's a toddler," Elliot reminded him, "He's four feet tall, and cries. He's all that you have that's
good? What about Karen?"

"Karen's a teenage girl who lives at boarding school," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded.
"Fair enough," He said, taking a deep breath, "What is it about Teddy that makes him good?"

"He's just a baby," Fitz said, "No one's screwed him up yet. He's happy, with simple things? He's just
good."

"He's happy with simple things?" Elliot asked him, and Fitz nodded, as Elliot jotted something down
on the file, "What about friends? Do you have anyone of adult age that you feel you can trust?"

"I'd like you to name a politician who does," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "You move up the ladder,
and you make enemies. Whether you're meaning to or not, you make enemies. People who are envious
of the votes you have, or the support you have. The funds that you have that could have been theirs
instead."

"What about your wife? Your advisors?"

"My wife went on television and told the world I had an affair," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "What
kind of relationship do you think we have?"

"What about your advisors? This Cyrus Beene, the one who found me for you. He seems to care about
you. What about him?"

"What about him?"

"What's his job?"

"He's my chief of staff," Fitz said quietly.

"So, he's supposed to be your closest advisor, then."

"I guess," Fitz said, taking a breath, "Honestly, he was trying to save his own ass, finding you for me.
He's – I've known the guy for twenty years and I can't say I can think of more than three people the
man actually cares about off the top of my head. One of those people is dead, and the other is also a
toddler."

"Who's the third?"

"Someone who isn't here anymore."

"Someone important?"

"Sure," Fitz said, checking his watch – he had to be out here, soon. Right?

"Is this the same person you were trying to call that night?" Elliot asked cautiously.

"How'd you figure that one out?" Fitz shot back, and Elliot shrugged.

"You're avoiding it just as much as you were trying to avoid telling me about her," Elliot said simply,
"Did he love her as much as you?"

"I don't know," Fitz said honestly, "She had a way of making anyone love her."

"And you did, love her?"

"Maybe," Fitz said, sighing, "Maybe I was just lonely."

"Now feel free to ignore this question, but is it is a sign of a more serious problem," Elliot said, "And
I remind you that everything said in sessions is confidential. How many sexual partners have you had,
in the past year to a year and a half?"

"Two," Fitz replied, deciding not to elaborate any further.

"Ok," Elliot said, "We're making progress."

Fitz scoffed.

"Now tell me about your son," Elliot prompted, and Fitz sighed.

"He was a great kid," Fitz shrugged, "He was athletic, an adorable toddler. He used to put on my
shoes and walk around the house when I was Governor. He used to cry til I brought him to work with
me when I was senator. He was spirited, when he was older."

"Who was he closer to, yourself or Mrs. Grant?"

"Me," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded again.

"And you carried him away, when he collapsed on stage?"

"Yes," Fitz said, "I carried him out to the limousine that brought us there – and Tom had us to the
hospital in a matter of minutes. There was nothing that we could have done – "

"You seem at peace with it."

"My son died right in front of me."

"I'm saying, you're talking about it like a man who would kill himself over the loss of a child."

"Well, I've learned that death isn't always the worst thing that can happen to a person," Fitz said,
struggling to keep his tone even.

"That's very true," Elliot agreed with him, "There are a lot of things worse than that. Care to name a
few?"

"Torture," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "Being forced to live your life a certain way."

"Those are very patriotic answers," Elliot said, and Fitz nodded.
"I am the President," He commented, almost sarcastically.

"Do you like your job?"

"No," Fitz said, without batting an eyelash.

"Can't imagine it would be too much fun," Elliot replied, "But I haven't ever heard of one of them
even contemplating suicide."

"And you still won't," Fitz pointed out, "I'm sure it's happened before, though."

"Good point," Elliot said quietly, and he sighed, "You asked me to tell you about me, at the beginning
of the session, why? You're arguably the best politician in the world, and you've spent a collective
two hours just staring, and analyzing me. There's probably nothing I said that you didn't already
know."

"I didn't know the names of your kids, or your wife," Fitz said, and Elliot took a deep breath.

"I have to ask again, were you ever abused?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure."

"Fitz."

"Not that I'm aware of," He replied, and Elliot nodded.

"And before I let you go – Why did you try to kill yourself?"

Fitz took a deep breath, and looked around the cluttered office. There were books, magazines, and a
shag carpet. A home-y feel, or that's what he was going for. He looked up at Elliot's degrees framed
up on the wall behind him. All his kids' pictures were lined up on the wall. His family lined up, in
separate frames. Him and his wife, Helen, were first, then Henry. It was strange how kids ascribed to
their names, like they took their label and ran with it. The smiling freckle faced boy couldn't really go
by any other name without it sounding weird. Next to him was Michael, clearly the rebellious little
brother, even though he was still young. Then, Olivia.

"Because the king stands alone," Fitz muttered, and Elliot seemed confused.

"Sorry, what?"

"You asked me why I tried to kill myself," Fitz checked, and Elliot nodded, "And I said: Because the
King stands alone."
 2. Chapter 2
A/N: Hey there, Lovelies : ) Thanks for the reviews for this one, I actually really like this one, but it
takes a little more than some of the other ones I'm writing/have written – so, it will be updated when I
can.

A/N: Hey there, lovelies. Thanks for the reviews, they sure do make my day. Anyways, enjoy : )

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Two:

Fitz, for a second time that week, was staring at his shoe again. He wondered slightly how many tax
payer's dollars Cyrus was using for him to stare at his shoe on Elliot's couch. Elliot had arranged for
all of the sessions they were going to have to be at his office. He said something about being away
from the White House for therapy being more helpful than them sitting in a coat room somewhere and
Fitz locking up. Fitz was pretty sure that he locked up whenever he saw Elliot, but he wasn't about to
argue. It was claustrophobic in that place. It always had been, and probably always would. The only
thing that used to make it bearable was gone now. So now he had to just grit his teeth and wait four
more years. Then he was done, then he had to be done. But four years was a long time.

"How was your day today?" Elliot asked him casually, and Fitz shrugged.

"Normal, I guess," He said, playing with the cuff on his sleeve.

"Normal?"

"Everyone has their routines," Fitz replied, and Elliot nodded.

"I guess that's true," Elliot agreed, "Last time you were saying that you were feeling lonely, which is
understandable. You have a lonely job, but is there a time you can remember not feeling lonely?"

"Honestly?" Fitz asked, letting himself actually entertain Elliot's question, "I don't know. I don't know
when I was actually feeling lonely, or when I forced myself to think that I was happy with other
people around."

"Let's keep it simple," Elliot said, giving him a somewhat questioning look, "When was the last time
you didn't feel lonely? Disregarding whether you have doubts about it looking back. Surface value."

"Sure," Fitz said, and Elliot narrowed his gaze at him.

"You know, a great man once said, 'I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up all alone.
It's not. The worst thing in life is ending up with people who make you feel all alone.'"

"You seriously just quoted Robin Williams at me?"

Fitz's response was flip, but he knew what Elliot was getting at. It was pretty clear. He had been
surrounded by people who made him feel all alone his whole life. His parents, who were always too
caught up in what they wanted to do, their own pleasure, then taking time to spend it with him. His
father, and all his secretaries. His mother, not much better with all of her sewing circles of friends
and tea parties. They sent him off with his nannies, and then his boarding schools without so much of
a look most of the time. Then there was Mellie, who he knew wasn't right. Who he knew still wasn't
quite the accepting and loving situation that he wanted to be in. But here his father was, handing him a
wife – someone who by definition was supposed to take care of him, keep him company, and be that
rock in his life.

And then there was Olivia. His Liv, who had tricked him way worse then all the rest. A woman who
really had seemed to love him, and dangled what he wanted right out in front of him like a carrot on a
stick. That was when he had thought that he'd figured it out, that it was a two way street. That he had
to love them too, and he had. Or at least he had loved what he thought was going on. He had been
mulling over his relationship with her for the past few weeks – among other things. Maybe he was
lonely, sure. Maybe he was just scratching an itch with a pretty girl – he really didn't think that one
was it, but it was a possibility. Or maybe it was just something that didn't work out, because she
didn't actually want him, or the fates just decided that he was only supposed to have her for a short
time. Though, even as much of a romantic as he was, the second option seemed unlikely. But he did
know one thing, that Olivia was there when he needed her – and then she wasn't when he needed it
more.

"Well, you don't agree?" Elliot asked him, and Fitz took a deep breath, "I can tell you right now it's
true for me. I could spend years on an island by myself and it would be better than hanging around an
hour with someone who didn't really care about me. Someone who only pretended, and pretended
poorly, that they were there for me."

"I agree," Fitz said, and Elliot made a note.

"So, can you tell me the first time you really felt alone?"

"Since I was a kid," Fitz answered, not sure why, "I don't know exactly when it hit me, that most kids
weren't raised by nannies who were older than their grandparents."

"You were raised by nannies?"

"Secretly, they did a good job of covering it up, but yes," Fitz said, and Elliot gave another one of his
nods.

"I know this is a little stereotypical, but how was your relationship with your parents?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, they're both dead now, right?"

"They are."
"Do you think they loved you?"

Fitz's immediate reaction was different from his response.

"I don't know," He admitted, "Mom might've – could have. Probably did."

"And your dad?"

"My father liked what I could do for him," Fitz said without a note of uncertainty, "He loved the idea
that I would be able to do what he couldn't. Carry the name on."

"Was it him that wanted you to be president?" Elliot asked, "I mean, you wouldn't be alone. Most of
our most famous, and most beloved presidents had terrible fathers. Lincoln, Kennedy…"

"Yeah, he wanted me to be President, because he couldn't," Fitz said, and Elliot made a note, "Well,
technically he thought I'd never make it."

"And you did," Elliot pointed out, as if it were something to be proud of, "What about other people in
your life? Your wife? Cyrus?"

"Cyrus once explained our relationship to me in that he was the sausage maker, and I was the
sausage," Fitz said.

"Well, that kind of speaks for itself," Elliot said, leaning back and fixing his cardigan, "And what
about Mellie?"

"What about her?" Fitz asked, taking a deep breath.

"Well, have you ever heard of the notion that people look for what they're used to, not necessarily
what they need?" Elliot asked, and Fitz nodded, "Well, it's actually entirely true. It wouldn't surprise
me with your profile if she maybe – "

"All Mellie ever wanted to be was First Lady," Fitz said bitterly, "And she saw what my father and
Cyrus were already doing to get me there. She may have changed her mind after the fact, or blurred
bits to romanticize what she did – but it still stays the same. All she wanted from me was to be First
Lady, and to stay First Lady. Don't judge her too harshly though, because I let her do it. I knew what
was going on. I'm not an idiot."

"I'm not judging her, or you," Elliot replied, "But up until this point, you were ok with all of this going
on around you. I'm going to tell you that this type of profile, fits much better with the suicide attempt
than a grieving father. But there has to be some catalyst there, something that made you realize that you
didn't want what was going on."

Yeah, he didn't need a shrink to figure that out.

"Now, it's entirely possible that the death of your son made you realize this," Elliot said, "But usually
with this kind of thing – what I'm saying is – almost fifty-two is a weird time for a first suicide
attempt to occur. What do you have that's happening this week?"

"I have a conference," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded, "On Friday to try and figure out what to do with
Syria."

"Well, good luck to you," Elliot said, "Because time's up."

There was a cold draft from the window he had opened earlier as he stood in the middle of the
presidential seal. Fitz looked down at the bottle of scotch in his hand, and then over at Tom, who was
standing right on the inside of the door. Fitz wasn't sure he had been alone for more than five minutes
since the incident. Absolutely no time by himself in the Oval Office since the incident, he took a
breath. The kind of breath that reminded him he was somewhat alive, even after everything. He
glanced over at Tom, who didn't flinch as he poured himself a glass on the coffee table, then he stood
back where he was before. This time he was looking down at his glass. He really hated everything to
do with this office. As he looked around it just reminded him of all the things that he would rather
forget. All the things that he would rather pretend never happened.

"Sir?" Tom asked him, and Fitz shuttered.

"I'm ok, Tom," He said, still staring up at the ceiling, "You can stop hovering. I won't be trying - that -
again."

"I'll trust you when you're shrink clears you," Tom said, checking his watch, "Until then, I'll be here."

'Sometimes, I really hate you, Tom," He said, looking back down at his shoes.

"That's fine, Sir," He replied, and Fitz took another deep breath.

Fitz took a breath. He thought about going up to the residence, but Mellie was home – efor once.
Since Gerry died, he assumed that Mellie had gone with the idea that the less she was in the White
House. Which he couldn't exactly blame her for, especially after what he had done after the funeral.
He fell onto the couch as he threw his glass of scotch down his throat about as quickly as he could
toss it. Then, he was staring at the ceiling, again. He had been doing that a lot these days, and he was
coming to the realization that ceilings were comforting. They confined you, they made sure that you
were covered, and you were never scared of them caving in on you.

He also realized that they weren't something that he had given much thought to before. Everything else
– the resolute desk, the pictures on the walls, and even the carpet. They all reminded him of Liv, of
his own damn ambition, and all of the things that he wished he could go back and change. First and
foremost, that he would have never stepped foot inside of the White House as The President of The
United States. If he had known everything that was going to happen, he would have stopped. He
would have quit the race when he met Olivia, and that was when he knew he wasn't fit for the job. It
was his ego that kept him going, his ego that said that he had some sort of right to the Presidency. Or,
maybe, he wouldn't have married Mellie at all, and he would have just hung around D.C. and waited
for Olivia to show up. But would she have loved him? Had she loved him anyway? Had she really, or
was she just pretending? Had he been pretending? He didn't even know anymore. Maybe He thought
he loved her.

Ceilings were nice.

"Are you just going to stare at the ceiling again, Sir?" Tom asked for a minute, and Fitz just looked
over at him, "I'm just asking, because I've been watching you stare up at the ceiling for almost two
weeks now, and it's getting really boring. It's getting really boring for me, and if it's boring for me –
that's fine. If you're whirling through things and whatever."

"What's your point, Tom?"

"I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do something, get, reasonably away from the Oval Office,"
Tom said, and Fitz sat up, "Just before you have more than one of those, Sir."

"What do you mean?" Fitz asked, and Tom sighed.

"Do you need to maybe, blow off some steam?" Tom asked him, "Get a different surroundings for like
an hour?"

"What're you offering me?" Fitz asked, and Tom sighed.

"Put the glass down, and come with me – Sir," Tom said, and Fitz got up from the couch.

Fitz did as he was asked, and followed Tom of out of the Oval. Tom then, rather nonchalantly walked
down the hall, trying to appear not to be walking ahead of Fitz. He assumed I was for the benefit of
all the security cameras that they were passing, and played along. Eventually, Tom came to a door that
Fitz had been pretty sure was a conference room that was never really used, at least that was what
every other door on that particular hallway was. And so, when they entered an empty conference
room, Fitz was not really surprised until Tom went into the corner and opened up a door that he hadn't
known was there, and held it open rather expectantly.

"After you, Mr. President," Tom said, pending an arm to gesture down was looked to Fitz like a get of
cement steps going down, "We could also use the elevator if you prefer."

"We'll use the elevator coming back up," Fitz said with a little nod, and Tom didn't say much but a
little grunt of agreement.

It didn't even occur to Fitz to ask exactly where Tom was taking him until they had reached the bottom
of the stairs. At that point, he assumed it didn't really matter so much where they were going so long
as he hadn't spent a lot of one there. As long as he wasn't staring at the ceiling again, he wasn't about
to complain, or ask too many questions. Tom swiped his badge across the electric lock, there was a
click, and then the door swung open. On the otherwise was a narrow basement hallway, almost like
the walls of the bunker they shuffled him off to when they got scared. At this point it seemed it no
longer mattered what the security cameras saw, as Tom weaved him through narrow passages,
occasionally whipping his badge out once more to get them through a door. The wasn't a lot down
there, and Fitz was just about to ask what they were doing when Tom opened up another doorway not
too far from where they're already were.

"Sir," Tom paused, hand still on the door handle, "It's probably best if you just never mention any of
this."

"Ok," Fitz said as Tom swiped his badge again, and suddenly Fitz understood.

Tell me just opened up with the type to sumo with Secret Service's private shooting range.
Cinderblock room with a small amount of noise canceling orange headphones to help block the noise
of the guns. He assumed – or he hoped – that the headphones were used in cases where it was a slow
afternoon, and the gallery was filled with agents. Imagine that this place would be a popular hang out
when agents are waiting to be called to events, or before their shifts. Now though, about two in the
morning, there is no one down there at all. Tom reached over and handed him a pair of headphones,
which Fitz let hang around his neck. He watched as Tom walked over to the locker on the wall, to go
to spare gun and a target, and went to work putting it up.

"Now, if I give you this you have to promise not to blow your own head off," Tom said as he came
back to where Fitz was standing behind the counter in the dividers.

"Promise," Fitz told him rather weakly, and Tom grunted in approval as he handed him the hand gun
carefully.

"And you're going to want those headphones," Tom added almost as if were an after thought, "It
echoes like hell in here."

"Why?"

"Because the whole room's concrete. Haven't you ever been in a parking garage?"

"No, why'd you bring me down here?"

"Because you're an awful shot, and you're not always going to be surrounded by your own private
army of security guards," Tom said somewhat somberly, "And I couldn't let you stew up in that
godforsaken room anymore. You stare at the walls like bull ready for a fight."

"I - my life changed, Tom," Fitz said, "In a matter of seventy-two hours everything I knew or I thought
I knew was changed. My son was gone, the woman I loved was gone, and I was elected to be
president - again. Four more years in this hell-hole, no offense."

"None taken," Tom said and Fitz just kind of shrugged as he put his headphones on, and pulled up his
gun.

The target that Tom had put up was shaped like a person, with smaller targets around where kill shots
would be. For example the head, the heart, the lung, the arteries in the thigh and a couple other places
that Fitz wouldn't have guessed. He pointed the gun up at the target, and Tom's hand came down on top
of the gun, signaling him to pause. Fitz then nearly laughed as Tom handed him a pair of goggles. He
was going to protest, but knew that Tom was going to have a hell of a time trying to explain how the
President shot his eye out while he was supposed to be 'watching him'. He felt a little like an unruly
teenager.

"How's your sessions going?" Tom asked curiously, once Fitz had emptied almost all the ammunition
in his gun into the wall behind his target, and he had removed his headphones.

"I don't really see them going anywhere," Fitz said, as Tom looked over at his target.

"What the hell kind of Navy were you in?" Tom asked, looking at the target, which had one, maybe
two stray bullets in it.

"I was a pilot," Fitz excused himself.

"Right, pansy," Tom said, in what sounded like mostly a tease, "Hold the gun again, point it at the
target – There's your problem. Mr. President, you have to aim the gun like you actually want to hurt it.
The target that is, and don't worry – it's paper. It's already dead. So harness all that misery and anger,
and shoot the target. I know you can aim better than that. Pull your elbow up more."

"Why are you doing this?" Fitz asked him, "Teaching me how to shoot?"

"It's my job to protect you," Tom said simply, "And I'm trying to do it the best I can. Like I said, you
might not always have a security guard with you when you need them. That, and I figure if you keep
stewing up there in that damn office, you're gonna end up blowing your brains out with the gun you
keep in your desk.

"You know about that?"

"It's my job to," Tom replied, "Why didn't you use it that night?"

"Didn't come to mind," Fitz shrugged with the lie, to hope it sounded more authentic.
 3. Chapter 3
A/N: Hey there, Lovelies. I have another chapter for you, and I hope you all enjoy it :) I'm going to
ask you all ' keep your minds open about this, though – I'm only so far in. I can't imagine it's going to
be one of mine that ends up over 100k words, but that's kind of the point of this one. Anyways, enjoy
:)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Three:

Fitz was drumming his fingers on the edge of the couch, looking around Elliot's office. There wasn't a
lot of times where he was left alone in there, and definitely not when he was waiting for Elliot. When
Elliot was off photocopying something, or informing his agents about something – this had not
happened. Of course, he had never asked specifically for a meeting with Elliot. However, he
probably would have if he knew how easily it would manipulate his schedule. Cyrus and Tom were
almost scared to say 'no' to him ever going to see Elliot. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not –
that he had them so jumpy – but at least it was working. He had a tighter command on them than he
ever had before – but this was not the way that he had wanted it. Nothing was the way he wanted.

"Fitz," Elliot walked in, taking his leather messenger bag off of himself, and taking his usual seat in
front of him, across from the coffee table, "Sorry it took me so long – I had to pick my son up at
soccer and drop him with his mom."

Elliot's cardigan was a light army green today, and Fitz really wished that he would leave out such
details of his life. The jealousy of Elliot, a man who had been allowed to follow his passions, and
follow the natural order of human nature – was almost too much for Fitz to stomach. He had been
programmed so long and so intently on being president he couldn't remember a time when he didn't
want to be a politician. It was sick. What kind of kid, what kind of childhood came from wanting to
be a politician? Wasn't he supposed to want to be a veterinarian, or a doctor, or a fireman? A
policeman? Something simple, something that you could do, and still keep your soul. A job that he
went to for a few hours before he came back to a family, not a whole life that he was going to be
forced into.

"Not a problem," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded.

"So, why did you want to meet?" Elliot asked him carefully.

"I got scared," Fitz said, "It turns out Tom hasn't taken he gun out of my desk – and something
happened today. I was scared, and I needed to come talk to you."

"There was a gun in your desk?" Elliot asked, he seemed surprised.

"Yeah," Fitz said lightly, "So, I came here, ok?"

"Were you feeling tempted to…"

"No," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "I'm just scared that I might be soon, so I came in."

"And you decided to come and see me, who you've barely talked to for the entirety of the time I've
known you, instead of throwing said gun out the window, or giving it to the secret service, or – any of
the other things you could have done? You wanted to come talk to me?"

"The same damage can be done with a bottle of scotch and a bottle of Benadryl," Fitz shrugged as he
leaned back, "The gun wasn't the problem."

"Ok, that's – " Elliot paused, "Some good progress."

"Yeah," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "I guess."

"So what do you want to talk about?" Elliot asked.

"I don't know – anything."

"Anything?" Elliot asked as he took a deeper breath.

"Look I just need to talk about anything else," Fitz told him, looking up at him, "Can we do that,
please?"

Anything except Olivia, the fact that she was back, or the fact that all he could imagine was her sitting
on the couch with him, in her apartment – their apartment. The fact that there was still a house in
Vermont waiting for him and Olivia to show up to, together. He was ready for anything to be the
subject of conversation, or his day dreaming, than a woman who left him sitting alone in the middle of
the Oval Office. Because she was all Cyrus was talking about all day, like he thought it would cheer
Fitz up, or something. Cheer him up that she was back, that she had crawled out of whatever god
forsaken hole she had scurried into. He took a deep breath. It had been the first news he had gotten
that morning, Cyrus coming into his office with a folder in hand. He was tapping it against his free
hand happily – something Fit hadn't seen him do since James had passed – he assumed that he hadn't
been feeling like himself since.

"Sir," Cyrus was rocking on the heels of his feet.

"What?" Fitz asked, looking up from the papers he had been shuffling through for almost an hour –
Tom still standing by the door.

"I have some news for you, sir," Cyrus said, dropping the folder on his desk.

"What's this?" Fitz opened the file.

"She's back, sir."

Fitz didn't need to ask for clarification as he was suddenly looking at a photograph that was time
stamped that morning of Olivia coming out of her apartment. Her face, even mostly looking away from
the camera, hit his gut like some kind of boulder flying out of orbit. This because, the second that he
recognized her his heart soared out of his chest, like something deep inside of him was rejoicing
while his brain was trying desperately to stifle it. To tell his heart and his soul that this was wrong,
that they had been tricked and that her - Olivia, his Livvie - being back in DC was a bad thing. The
worst thing that could possibly happen to him, as he was moving towards being a functional adult.

There was a cracking, that he was almost a hundred percent sure that only he could hear it. Because of
course, it was the only thing he could hear at all. She looked good - that was what hurt the most - she
looked just as gorgeous as always. Olivia didn't look destroyed, devastated, or even upset. Their love
had blown up in both their faces like everyone had always said it would - and Livvie was fine. Like
she had just decided to take an oddly placed two month vacation that she may have been planning for
quite some time. It was horrifying, the idea that Olivia bring gone, disappeared, and he had fallen
apart. He had tried to kill himself and Elliot was right. It wasn't just because Gerry died, or just
because Mellie was raped, or because it was Big Gerry, but the clusterfuck of all three being paired
with Olivia leaving. He just didn't get why. Why Olivia leaving was fifty percent, and Mellie, Gerry,
and Big Gerry all shared the other half.

"Sir?" Cyrus called to him, trying to get him back into the real world.

"Keep her out," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "I don't want to see her."

"Sir."

"I don't want to see her, Cy," Fitz said, and Cyrus sighed.

"Sir," Cyrus said, as he motioned for Tom to leave, and shut the door, "Sir, I have been patient. I have
been very patient with you. I know now a little bit of what heart break feels like. And I know, she left
you, again - She broke your heart, again. Until you are out of his big White House, that is the two of
your fates. To mangle, and to hurt each other. But you love her anyway - I know you do - I know this
cycle. So, no I'm not going to revoke Olivia's hard pass. I'm not going to throw myself the doorway to
keep her from getting in. We all know how this goes, sir. Taking away her pass and barring her from
entering just means that when you decide to forgive her - when you decide you love her anyway -
even though you shouldn't, and even though you hurt each other - it's going to raise alarms when you
call down and order her allowed in."

"Since when are you such a romantic?" Fitz spat.

"I'm not," Cyrus said l, taking a pause, "I'm a cynic. But I'm a cynic who needs his friend back, and
maybe the woman he loves will be able to put a fire under his ass again."

"Your friend is dead," Fitz replied simply, "the man who loves this woman - the man who loved
Livvie is gone. He's dirt."

"I've been in this town long enough to know the people here don't stay dead, not for long. Even if you
want them to, even if they would rather stay in the ground. Even if it would be better for everyone if
they stayed buried."

"What do you want from me, Cy?"

"Nothing, Sir," Cyrus said, a very unique way of saying 'everything', "You have a meeting with the
joint chiefs in ten minutes."

"Thank-you."

"Fitz? Fitz?" Elliot's voice started to intrude on Fitz's memory as he slowly realized that he was trying
to talk to him, "So what do you want to talk about, then? I only ask because if there is something that
you do want to talk about – and I mean, really talk about, then we can do that. But if you're just going
to summon me so that you can blow off a meeting or two that you'd rather send an aid to – You don't
summon me unless there's something serious."

"My father raped Mellie," Fitz said instinctively, and Elliot raised both eyebrows.

"That's definitely serious," Elliot took a deep breath, "When did you find out about this?"

"Night before Gerry died," Fitz replied, and Elliot gave him somehow more confused and deliberate
stare.

"And you want to talk about this now?"

"Yeah."

"Ok," Elliot said, taking a deep breath, "When did your father die?"

"He passed away of a heart attack while I was running for President," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded,
"Is there any other situations with him that would make you think that Mellie wasn't the only one?"

"Guy was screwing a new girl a week," Fitz said, taking a breath as he stretched out his leg,
"Anything's possible."

"I guess I sort of phrased that wrong," Elliot said, taking a deep breath, "What I meant was, did he
have any violent tendencies?"

"Violent?" Fitz asked, "No, my dad never beat me. There were too many witnesses, and once I wasn't
in boarding school – he knew I'd fight back."

"Ok, just checking," Elliot said unassumingly, "So, I'm going to go ahead and assume that you have
some – feelings about this."

"I guess," Fitz said, and he took a deep breath, "I guess it really shouldn't have been such a shock to
me."

"It shouldn't have been a shock?" Elliot asked, as though he were about to have Fitz committed, "That
he raped your wife?"

"Gerry had a thing for taking whatever the hell it was he wanted, and getting his way no matter what,"
Fitz said, taking a deep breath, and Elliot gave a very slow nod, "He arranged my marriage to Mellie
– so that we would be a marketable couple when he pushed me to run for office."

"He did?"

"Yeah," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "And we – well, I – agreed to it because I was young, and
stupid and I didn't know any better. Mellie I'm not so sure about, but that was why I agreed. I shouldn't
have."

"So you're saying your father saw your wife as property," Elliot said, and Fitz nodded.

"It wasn't just her," Fitz said, again starting to play with his cuticle, weird that he couldn't look at
Elliot when he was talking, "He was a sick son of a bitch – but he treated everyone that way.
Everyone was someone's property, and people, like cattle, were there for the taking, or the training, or
the beating. I can't remember him ever taking 'no' for an answer in any circumstance."

"You said your father never beat you," Elliot replied, and Fitz nodded.

"He didn't."

"Ok," Elliot replied, "What about this rape then – do you remember things around it happening? Often
people – when someone close to them has something like this happen, they see warning signs and
issues that they might not have seen then, but see now quite clearly. Hindsight's twenty-twenty."

"I don't know," Fitz shrugged a little bit, "I always thought she had a crush on the old man. That he
was the one she had really wanted to marry, not me. The real politician that could bring her places,
give her what she needed. Seems really stupid now. No, I still don't see the signs other than my father
being my father. She got pregnant with Gerry around the same time, so if there was something
different – I didn't see it. Other than the – "

"The what?" Elliot asked, and Fitz took a deep breath.

"After Gerry was born, Mellie told me that was it," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded.

"A pretty big sign."

"Yeah, missed that one," Fitz said, "She started pulling away from what little of a relationship we
had, and that was that."

"You understand that this isn't your fault, right?" Elliot asked, "It's not your fault that your father did
this to her. It's not your fault – or Mellie's fault either - that it was probably a huge contributing factor
to the state of your marriage."

"Wait a second. He didn't ruin some fairy-tale marriage. We didn't marry for love. He hurt Mellie - he
- hurt the mother of his grandchildren. He's disgusting, far worse than I thought he was," Fitz had been
stewing on this for a while, and Elliot perked his ears up to listen, "But we weren't meant for each
other, and whether or not this happened when it did, we still would be in about the same place. Our
marriage wasn't strong, and it never was. We would probably a little less hostile with each other –
but essentially the same place."

"Ok," Elliot said, taking a deep breath, "But you two then had Karen."

"Statistics," Fitz shrugged, and Elliot didn't seem to understand, "When I was running for governor
again, that was when we had Karen. Statistics had me winning if we had another child. The grand
prize was always the White House, and there's only been a handful of presidents who have gotten
there with one kid. One of which, well – he didn't exactly end up so good. It was optics, nothing
more."

"And Teddy?"

"That was – " Fitz took a deep breath, "That as something different."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Not really," Fitz replied, and Elliot paused.

"C'mon, humor me."

"It was more of the same, really," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "We were in the middle of a sex
scandal, and it was how Mellie saw fit to keep me in the White House."

"So it was exactly the same, as with Karen," Elliot said, with a nod, "So why didn't you want to talk
about Teddy? You said he was the happiest thing you had in your life a couple sessions ago…"

"Yeah, but not the way that he got here," Fitz said.

"Did you spend a lot of time resenting him, before he was born?"

"No. That's ridiculous- disgusting, he's a baby – "

"Fitz."

"Yeah," Fitz said, like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders, "The whole Goddamned nine
months I wished he wasn't going to be born. Mellie was using him to keep me in a job that I didn't
want – in a marriage that I didn't want to be in. I didn't want to stay president, I didn't want to stay
with Mellie. I wanted to – "

He broke off and went quiet. He wanted to go off with Olivia. He resented the coming of his son for
nine months – more than nine months – because he meant that he couldn't run away with Olivia. And
now he was making up for it – making amends, and making sure that Teddy had the most loving
childhood he could manage to give him. And raising Teddy in a not just dead, but toxic marriage with
Mellie was not what was best for his child. He knew that, he had known that – but there were
sacrifices that everyone had to make. Even if Teddy had never asked for them to be made.

"You didn't want to be president anymore?" Elliot asked, "So why did you run again?"

There was a line. Telling the truth about affairs, and Mellie, and his father, and the kids – that was all
well and good. He was sworn in with doctor patient confidentiality, and he would have no interest in
spreading those secrets. That was why Cyrus had gone through all the trouble to find a therapist that
operated outside the beltway. There were no gossip rags hounding him, and they wouldn't be unless
he had gotten their attention. It made the temptation to spill the secrets even less than what they would
normally be – for a military officer, even. But there was a line, where affairs, and abuse, and
promises to women that ran away when things got tough were allowed – and election rigging was still
unspeakable.

"I promised someone that I would do it again," He said, taking a deep breath, "It was supposed to be
for me. It was supposed to be for – it was the only thing that this person ever really asked from me,
politically."

"The woman who left," Elliot asked, and Fitz stiffened up, "Ok, we're still not ready to discuss that.
What about Mellie? Tell me more about your relationship with her."

"What do you want to know?"

 4. Chapter 4
A/N: So, my boy Tom got to speak! And you all know how much I love Tom, so it made me smile.
Seriously, you can give me Tom over any of the other Scandal boys any day (Well, except Tony of
course). But again, you all already knew this. Anyway - Enjoy, my lovelies :)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Four:

Fitz was attempting to keep himself busy, refrain from giving himself enough time to think. He was
only letting himself think when he went to see Elliot. They had only gotten a few minutes into talking
about Mellie in his session before time was up. Mellie was, thank God, still absent from the White
House. SO, instead of wandering and waiting around in the Oval Office, he was up in the residence.
Tom was off for the night, so going to the shooting range, which he quite simply could have used a
few minutes ago, was off the table. Though, as a rule, when he was sitting in the Oval Office and got
the overwhelming need to shoot something, he left. He was sitting in his living room now, in a mostly
silent place. Teddy had long since gone to bed, but that didn't mean that there weren't toys scattered
across the room. Fitz, instead of picking them up, just left them there. He wasn't quite ready to go to
bed yet, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to do much else, either.

His eyes darted over to his cell phone, which was sitting on the coffee table. Olivia was home, she
was probably lying in bed at this point. But he couldn't call her. He could never call her – that was
why they had the phone. The phone that he had tossed out a White House window a month ago.
Though, he didn't actually expect her to still have hers. She left, and he shouldn't want to talk to her as
much as he did. She once represented someone he could go to, someone he could call (under the right
circumstances) when he needed to. Too much had happened now, too much had changed. Who knew if
she even still loved him? If she even ever had? He couldn't use her as a crutch anymore. He had to
stand on his own two feet. He used to be able to do it – before he met her.

"So before you left last time, we were talking about Mellie," Elliot recalled the next morning as Fitz
settled in on the couch.

"We were," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded.

"So, when was the last time you were intimate?"

"I dunno," Fitz had given up asking 'why', and checked his watch briefly, "About six months or so?
God – that seems like a lifetime ago."

"Six months? So, after she used your son to keep you in office, and after she forced him born early?"

"Yes."

"And you were ok with that?"

Fitz shrugged. He hadn't really thought about it much. It was just sort of something that had happened,
it wasn't really out of the blue – or more concerning than other things that could have been happening
at the time. Honestly, at the time he was so mad, and hurt from Olivia that he hadn't even registered
much else that was going on. But that would be a dangerous thing to admit as the President, even to
himself. That's why he hadn't until the storm had passed, and he was speaking with Olivia again.
There was this great pattern where he wasn't ok when he wasn't speaking with her, and he wasn't ok
with it. Not anymore. He almost killed himself when she left last time – and he needed to be ok
independent of her.

The minute he thought it he knew that it was impossible. There was no way that he was going to be
able to accomplish that, the mountain was too high. Even now when he was trying and pulling and
dragging his feet he knew deep down that he still loved her – that he was never going to be able to get
out from under her cloud. He knew that. What he needed was to be well enough with himself to
survive, even just a shadow without her. He had been able to do it before, just throw himself into his
work and not worry about loving someone, being loved. But that was before he knew what it was
like. And if he had known what it was like – he would have run for the hills. No super-secret monster
of a father needed, he would have helicoptered himself as far and as fast as he could away from her.
Or would he have?

"Fitz," Elliot called him back.

"Huh?"

"You were ok with that?"

"No, I was drunk. I said 'no'," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "Then she was whining, and really – I
had worse things on my mind."

"Worse?" Elliot seemed alarmed, and this caught Fitz's attention, because he wasn't sure Elliot had
given a reaction like that, "What else was going on?"

Well, I killed a supreme court justice who had tried to kill him. His wife, his 'friend', and the love of
his life had teamed up to rig his election. And, come to find out a few months later his 'best friend'
who he had hired to keep Olivia safe while he was mad at her was screwing her all over the place.

"Just other shit," Fitz replied, taking a deep breath, "Old stuff that shouldn't have happened. Doesn't
matter anymore."

"It doesn't?" Elliot asked, taking a deep breath, "So why not talk about it?"

"I don't want to," Fitz replied, and Elliot nodded lightly.

"Fitz," Elliot took a deep breath, "You've admitted to me that your father raped your wife – that your
father never loved you, without a single tear. You just very casually explained that your wife once
took advantage of you in the shower when you didn't want her. Honestly, ask any college student, and
they'd classify it as rape. Not to mention I'm sure all the other toxic parts to that relationship. The
blackmail, cheating, the list goes on and on, and you still have a roadblock up. You're making
excellent progress in opening up to me, but you're still not getting to the root of your problem. You're
telling me all stuff you either haven't registered, or haven't cared about."

"She's not the root of any problem," Fitz seethed – then was taken aback, not sure where the anger had
come from – hadn't he been thinking the same thing for months?

"So why don't you tell me a little bit about her?" Elliot asked, taking a deep breath, "What's she like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she must be amazing if she managed to – "

"She's smart as a whip," Fitz said, then chuckled a little to himself, "Well, smarter, actually. She's
smarter than anyone I've ever known. And she's absolutely beautiful, in every single way. Whether it's
good, or it's bad, it's still beautiful. She has a way of ripping your heart out feeding it to you, and
you'd still be in awe. And she's the only one who I ever thought might really, somewhere deep inside,
love me because I am me, and not because I could give her something. That's why I don't want to talk
about her. Because she's all I can think about – even though I know I shouldn't. It's too much, it's not
manageable. Since the incident I've been operating on what I can manage, and what I can't. Talking
about her, even know, isn't something that I can do without pain. Physical pain on a level beyond what
I thought a man could live through. And I'm not proud of it, either."

"Ok," Elliot took a deep breath, scribbling something in his notebook.

"No, I don't think it is," Fitz said, catching a glimpse of a smiling picture of Elliot and his wife sitting
on the desk in the corner, where it always was, "I wasn't brought up like a normal kid. From the time I
was fourteen my father was drilling me on what it meant to be a politician. He taught me to be aware
of my surroundings, how I was being perceived, and to always make sure that I was above the fray.
He taught me this because he couldn't manage it. Who knows how my life would have ended up if he
hadn't been caught with a hooker – but I can imagine it would be happier. I was groomed for this job.
The one I have now, and can only have for another four or so years since I was fourteen. I didn't get
anything resembling a normal life. My wife was picked for me – what did I care? I wasn't particularly
infatuated with anyone. Little did I know, the love of my life was waiting for me twenty years down
the road. That she was going to be perfect, and have this power to break me, and everything I stood
for with a look. A glance that she didn't even mean to give me. And then, as I'm wishing and hoping
that it were easier for us, my son dies."

"Fitz, that doesn't have anything to do with your hope for something easier…"

"Doesn't it?" Fitz asked, taking a deep breath, "I'm sitting there hoping and praying that there is some
way that I can figure it out. Praying for a way out of a marriage, that I never wanted and then my son –
I'm being punished."

"Punished?" Elliot asked, "By who?"

"Time's up," Fitz nodded over at the clock.

"Not until you tell me who you think is trying to punishing you."

"Isn't it obvious? God, Karma, the universe," Fitz said, taking a deep breath – understanding that
Elliot was in fact going to keep him there until he spoke up.

"Do you really think it works that way?" Elliot asked, and Fitz furrowed his brow, "Because I don't.
People run around looking for justice in the world – and you know what I say? People don't actually
want justice. If everyone got justice for everything they did – no one would live past the age of
twelve. Who are we to try and perceive some sort of justice? Fitz, you hoping and wishing that you
could find a way to be with the woman you love had no effect on the death of your son."

Actually, it did. Maybe not in the cosmic sense, but in a direct sense, it did. He let Maya go because
he loved Olivia. Because he wanted Olivia and her mother to be safe from Rowan, which would
make it easier for him to slip away with her. But it came back and bit him quite clearly in the ass, and
Maya had killed his son. He still wasn't sure why, as far as he understood she worked for the highest
bidder with no sense of loyalty. Anyone could have ordered the hit, but no one would have been able
to pull it off quite like her.

"Time's up," Fitz reminded him, and Elliot nodded as Fitz stood up.

"I'll see you next time," Elliot said casually, "But I have some homework for you."

"Homework?" Fitz asked, and Elliot shrugged, "Like with a pencil and a sheet of paper?"

"More mental than that," Elliot replied as he set his notebook onto his desk, "Next time we meet, on
Thursday, we're going to have a full session talking about this woman. You showed more emotion in
the last ten minutes than you have the entire time you've been coming to see me. So, we're going to
chat."

"No."

"It's non-negotiable," Elliot said, taking a deep breath, "Or we're going back to meeting three times a
week. Your behavior is concerning, Fitz. I only want to help."

"Yeah," Fitz scoffed a little bit.

It wasn't long before he was sitting in the back of the Presidential limousine, looking at his hands
folded in his lap. He was angry. An emotion that he hadn't quite let himself feel the full blast of since
– well, he couldn't remember. Probably since the incident that had started this whole mess. Since then
he had shut himself down. The world was a whole lot easier, and a whole lot safer to him if he didn't
feel anything. If he could block off his emotions, he was a better president. More the kind that Cyrus
had always hoped he had signed off for. Cold, calculating, and smart enough to run the country
somewhere other than into the ground.

"Are you ok, Sir?" Tom asked as he pulled into the back of the White House, getting ready to get out
of the car.

"I don't want to be here, Tom," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "I want to be just about anywhere but
here."

"You have to give me some sort of hint, Sir," Tom replied as he cut the engine, but stayed in the
drivers' seat, "It's the middle of the day, we could probably go just about anywhere you want."

"I used to like hiking," Fitz said, and Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Hiking, sir?"

"Yeah."

"I think we're going to need a little more advance on that, but I'll work on it," Tom said, taking a deep
breath, "What about a jog? Around a park? We can arrange that fairly quickly, sir."

"Sure," Fitz nodded, as he climbed out of the limo, "Be right back."

Daniel and Hal walked him up to the residence, and he left them at the door. Running was good.
Running, particularly when he could stuff earbuds into his ears as loud as they could go was
extremely helpful. It kept his mind from wandering too far. Like wandering to the fact that the park that
they had chosen, probably because it was so easy to secure, was only a few blocks from Olivia's
apartment. This, specifically, was something that he would rather not think about now – or ever.
Instead, he turned up the music, and kept running. Whether he was running away from her, or just
running in circles enough so that he could pass out that night without any troubles was beyond him.
All that mattered was that he was out of the White House, and he was outside.

He had to be back in the office by three, so his small step toward freedom was cut a little short. He
was getting old, he knew that. That was one of the only reasons he liked a little jog now and again,
because it hurt. It was a little masochistic side of him, the comfort that he found when his feet hit the
ground. Each foot would hit the ground, a small twinge of pain radiated up his shin, and into his knee.
His right knee had been a shit show for years, and for some reason that made him feel better. Some
weird anti-catharsis – like he deserved how much his knee was hurting him as he walked into his
meeting a half hour later.

"You look like hell," Cyrus commented, as if it were some great observation, as he walked into the
Oval.

"If I look like hell, you can only imagine what you look like," Fitz said not-so under his breath as he
walked by him over to his desk, and sat down.

"I probably deserved that," Cyrus said as he dropped the notes from the meetings Fitz had missed
while he was out with Elliot, "Is Elliot planning on releasing you from his death grips yet?"

"No," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "I don't think so. Apparently I'm way more screwed up than I
thought I was."
"Well, I could have told you that," Cyrus said, and Fitz gave him a suspicious look, "What?"

"You saw her," Fitz accused, and Cyrus shrugged.

"She lost a friend," Cyrus said, taking a deep breath, "Harrison. He's been killed. I think it was her
father – I haven't told her that, though."

"How is she?"

"I guess I could just offer you a mirror," Cyrus replied as Fitz looked over his notes.

"She ask about me?" Fitz asked, curiously, still trying to get as many of the notes into his brain.

"No," Cyrus said, and Fitz looked up at him – he was lying, "She didn't ask."

Fitz let him lie.

"Good," Fitz said, finishing off the notes, and stuffing them into the drawer, "That's good. So she's not
coming here any time soon?"

"Done with the notes?" Cyrus asked as he picked the file back up, "And it's a small place, Mr.
President. Particularly when you run in the same circles."
 5. Chapter 5
A/N: Hello, all – well, this has certainly been a while – I was in a sad Olitz mood after many a
shipper videos Youtube, and feeling sad that even when he hates her, Fitz is always just waiting to be
able to be with Liv. Breaks your heart, doesn't it? Anyway, enjoy – and maybe I'll be able to write
more soon.

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Five:

Fitz looked around the mostly empty cement room, then over at Daniel standing in the corner. It had
only taken so much convincing before he had agreed to bring Fitz down to the gun range. He loaded
up his gun again, waving Daniel off of replacing his target. He felt for the ear mufflers that were
around his neck. He was about to empty another clip into an already bullet ridden paper body, and
still wasn't sure who it was exactly he was shooting. His father? Mellie? Rowan? An idea? Himself?
The last was probably the most likely. He was just so done with all of it. All he wanted now was out,
he wanted out of the White House, and out of the Presidency. He had to bring himself to a point where
he was going to be ok, if not for himself then for Teddy and Karen who needed a sane parent. Even if
he was going to do that – he couldn't be president anymore. He had lost a whole lot of things that he
cared about because of the presidency, Gerry, Olivia, a normal life, the way that he had wanted for a
while now. He just didn't know how he could do it with minimal impact. Resign, in another six
months divorce Mellie, become a recluse and live the rest of his life as an empty shell in Vermont.
That huge house that had imagined growing old with Olivia in, having kids with her - just him all
alone. That didn't seem like a very good option, either.

"Sir," Tom's voice filled the small cinder block of a room just before Fitz could pull the obnoxious
colored headphones over his ears, "Daniel, go."

'

"Sir, I – " Daniel tried to defend himself.

"Go," Tom ordered, and Daniel left without another word, the door slamming behind him.

"Don't get mad at Daniel," Fitz said, setting the gun down, "I made him bring me down here."

"I know," Tom replied, "Don't do it again, and I can let it slide."

"Why is it you're the only one who can bring me down here?" Fitz asked, and Tom took a deep breath.

"Because I'm the one actually trying to help you with your shot," Tom replied, "And because Daniel's
enough of an idiot to let you come down here drunk off your ass at ten in the morning. Don't look so
surprised, I could smell it on you the minute I came through the door."
"Sorry," Fitz replied, and Tom rolled his eyes.

"You should probably be better at this than you are," He said, and Fitz raised an eyebrow.

"Why? Isn't it your job to protect me? Being able to hit someone in the face with a bullet – quick draw
like you're teaching me – that's not part of my job."

"It might come in handy at some point, Sir," Tom replied, folding his hands and sitting back in a chair
as Fitz reloaded his gun and shot as many as he could at the target, "You out?"

"Yeah," Fitz set the gun down on the counter, and Tom ran over to retrieve his target.

"Much better, sir," Tom replied, showing him the target, where at least half of them had actually
landed.

"I think I'm good for tonight, Tom," He said, rubbing his eye once as Tom took the gun and went to
lock it up.

"Ok, sir," Tom said, "Same time tomorrow?"

"Why are you so into this?" Fitz asked him, slightly less casually than he would have liked.

"Sir, it's the best way that I know to keep you protected," Tom said, sighing, "Gerry – "

"That wasn't your fault," Fitz said, and Tom shook his head.

"I was right there," Tom replied, "And it could have just as easily been you. So, I'm teaching you how
to shoot a gun. So at least you can protect yourself if you can."

"Yeah, except we keep it locked up," Fitz said, and Tom nodded.

"A couple more lessons and I'll get you a holster," He replied, and Fitz narrowed his gaze.

"Seriously?"

"As soon as I'm convinced yourself by accident," Tom teased him, "Yeah, I have an order in for one
that goes on the inside of your jacket. You can bring it with you everywhere, no one'll notice. I even
have a lighter gun coming in – you won't notice it either. We'll lock it up at night."

"And it's safe?"

"It has a safety," Tom nodded, "If Teddy can figure out how to get it open, you should send him off to
be tested."

"Ok," Fitz said as they headed through the bunker and towards where the hall came up near the Oval
Office.
"When's your appointment tomorrow?" Tom asked, "With Elliot?"

"I have meetings in the afternoon, not until late at night," Fitz said, as they headed up into the hallway,
where Lauren was still sitting at her desk.

"Ok," Tom said, and he stopped with Fitz as Lauren came up to them.

"Sir," Lauren said, biting her lip a little nervously, "There's someone here to see you."

"It's late," Fitz said, barely glancing at his watch before continuing, "Just have them come back in the
morning, if they can."

"Ah, Sir," Lauren said, as Fitz felt the wind go right out of his lungs, "You might want to see them."

Lauren's second half of her statement was a little too late to act as a warning as Fitz's eyes met
Olivia's. She looked amazing, gorgeous, beautiful, and devastating. He tried to take another breath, to
try and keep the oxygen going as casually as possible – possibly without her realizing it. He didn't
even realize that he had taken a step back until he bumped into Tom who had stopped behind him. A
half a step forwards again, and felt her eyes on him, and swallowed. It was like she had walked in
and stabbed a knife through his lung, so there was a whole and it couldn't possibly end up inflated
again.

"Hi," She said, and he took a deeper breath.

"Hi," He said more out of habit than anything else, and Lauren slowly went to excuse herself, closing
the door to the hallway behind her, "What're you – What're you doing here?"

"Can we-?" She motioned into the Oval slightly and he took a deep breath.

"No, I – I'd rather stay out here," Fitz said, not trusting anything about this situation as he looked back
over at Tom, "Tom – would you mind giving us a minute?"

"Ye-ah," Tom was clearly questioning his judgment as he took a step out from behind him, giving him
a quick look, "Sure, I'll be right out in the hallway, Sir."

"Thank you, Tom," Fitz said nervously as he excused himself, presumably to go out and stand with
Lauren in the hallway.

He had a million questions, and most of them started with anger, and ended with him throwing
something against the wall. There was the distinct possibility that he might end up picking up Lauren's
computer monitor and hurling it out of the window. He ran a hand back through his hair as a thousand
comments ran through his head, each one ruder and more disgusting than the next as he looked
anywhere but at Olivia. He swallowed, trying to count in his head to calm himself down enough to be
able to get himself out. Why had he chosen to stay? Why hadn't he asked her to go? Wouldn't that have
been the smarter decision? He could finally feel himself breathing without having to focus in on it,
and he took a chance to look back at Olivia – and he felt drained. There was no anger left, because he
couldn't bring himself to summon it, or hold onto it.
"Lauren usually makes tea about now," Fitz finally broke what he imagined was probably a fairly
awkward silence, "You want some?"

"Lauren makes tea?" Olivia asked, as Fitz walked over to the counter that was in the hallway, her
kettle was going, as usual, "It's almost eleven'o'clock at night."

"I've been spending some long nights down here," Fitz said, pouring two cups of tea, and handing her
one.

"And hanging out with Tom? Where were you two?" Olivia asked, and Fitz raised his eyebrows.

"That's a hell of a question for you to ask," He shot back before he could hold it in, and Olivia
recoiled, "Sorry – He's been teaching me how to shoot."

"Oh," Olivia said, and Fitz nodded as he walked over and sat down in the waiting chairs – Olivia
followed.

"I think he feels guilty about what happened to Gerry," Fitz said, taking a sip of his tea as she sat
down next to him, "And it eats up some of my time – I haven't been sleeping well."

"Me either," She said quickly, like it also had escaped her brain before she could filter, "I'm sorry I
took off like I did – I should have – "

"Don't worry about it," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "It was probably what was best for all of us,
all things considered. I'm glad you're ok. We done here? I'm sort of exhausted."

"Ah, no," Olivia said, taking a deep breath, "Someone killed Harrison."

"I'm sorry," Fitz said, and Olivia nodded, "I know he had been with you for some time – "

"Thanks," Olivia said, "But actually, I was here because I need your help."

"You need my help?" Fitz checked, and Olivia nodded, somewhat ashamedly.

Fuck you. You need my fucking help? Well I -

"With what?" What he really wanted to say wiped itself from his brain as her eyes met his again.

"The investigation," Olivia replied, taking a breath, "I've been gone a few months. I don't exactly have
the same connections I did."

"Right," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "Coordinate with Lauren, and the new Press Secretary, Ana.
She handles all the connections. Of course you can get to Cy on your own – and let me know if I can
help you with anything."

"Ok," Olivia said, as Fitz stood up, he felt like someone had starched him to his seat while he was
sitting – his shins felt like sticks.
"Alright," Fitz said, taking a deep breath as he headed towards the doors.

"Wait?"

"What, Olivia?" He asked, turning on his heel to face her.

"You're not going to ask me where I was? Or why I went?"

"Does it matter?" Fitz asked, even though he knew it sounded cold, "Is it relevant to how your friend
Harrison died? Or have anything to do with anything else that's going on right now? Let's just stick to
business, ok? I'm assuming you're not sticking around."

Olivia didn't correct him as he opened the door, and held it for her. Tom was waiting dutifully outside
of the door, and Lauren shuffled awkwardly as they walked out. He kept his eyes plastered on the
hallway across to the residence, even though he would usually spend a couple more hours in the
office, until he was certain that Olivia had started walking for the exit. He turned around and felt
exactly as he had the morning he had realized she left as he watched her walk away. It was like his
heart had flopped out of his chest like a freshly caught fish, flapping around on the carpet. It took
every controllable muscle to keep himself from running after her, from putting his arms on her hips
and taking her back, dropping to his knees to beg her to stay even a few more minutes. He swallowed
as he felt Tom walk closer to him. Watching her walk away was so contrary to everything his brain
was screaming at him – his heart still felt like it had lost its beat. But that had started months ago.

"Sir," Tom whispered as Olivia walked around the corner, "Would you like to go for a walk, Sir?"

"Yes," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "Outside."

"Rose Garden?"

"No."

"The perimeter's a nice walk," Lauren chimed in loud enough from behind her desk and around the
corner, "I do it on my dinner break sometimes. It's peaceful, quiet."

"Thanks," Fitz said as they walked back by the hallway.

Tom had tried to talk him into calming down halfway around the grounds. For almost a half mile Tom
was shooting questions at him, asking him what kind of desert he wanted the next night, so he could
tell the cook for after therapy. He even went so far as to ask him if he wanted him to move up his
appointment with Elliot. He was in the middle of explaining that it wouldn't be too much trouble when
Fitz finally found use for his vocal chords again.

"Shut up, Tom," Fitz said, he felt bad for being gruff with him, but at the same time not.

"Yes, sir," He replied, and Fitz started to jog.

Maybe he thought it would tire him out quicker, maybe he was looking forward to the pain in his
knees with every step. Either way, it felt better, for a while. That was until he tripped over a root to
one of the trees in the dark, and fell onto his face. The sudden motion, and the nerves and nausea that
had built up ended up with him spewing the contents of his stomach, mostly his dinner, all out on the
White House lawn.

"Sir?" Tom asked, and Fitz shook his head as he went up onto his knees, wiping his chin with his
sleeve.

"I'm fine," Fitz said, and he immediately chuckled at the irony of his words.

"Sir… maybe we should get you inside."

"No, Tom," He said, as he scooted over so that he could sit leaning against the tree, "I think I want to
sit here for a while."

"Ok," Tom said, and he checked his phone, "You have exactly ten minutes. And if you don't want to
come in after that, I'm going to carry you in."

"I'm not a child," Fitz replied, and Tom nodded.

"No, Sir," He said solemnly, "I just never want to have to cut you down from a curtain rod again."

"Deal, ten minutes," Fitz replied, taking a deep breath, "It hurts."

"I would imagine it would, Sir."

"You ever been in love, Tom?" Fitz asked, and then corrected himself, "You ever thought you were in
love?"

"I believe there was a girl in high school, Sir."

"Just one girl? No one now?" Fitz asked, and Tom shook his head.

"Girlfriends require time, and -"

"You're always here," Fitz said, reaching up and Tom helped him to his feet, "Watching me.
Babysitting."

"My father was an Agent, Sir," Tom replied, "An agent's life doesn't really have room for kids, or a
family, or love."

"Yeah," Fitz replied, "Let's head in."

Fitz woke up the next morning, and headed down to the office with two large bruises on his knees.
Thank God, they were hidden by his pants and that they weren't making it too hard for him to move.
He had to bandage up the heels of his hands, because once he got back to the residence he realized
that there was gravel all imbedded into his palms. He had almost made it down to the Oval when he
ran into Tom and Cyrus heading the other way. Within minutes, he was being loaded into a car around
the back of the house and being carted off towards Elliot, and within an hour – he was sitting in an all
too familiar room, on a couch that was no longer comfortable.

"Did your meetings get switched around again?" Elliot asked as he walked in and Fitz looked up.

They hadn't told him why they sent him in early. Fitz nodded. Sure.

"So, tell me about this girl," Elliot said, taking a deep breath, "Let's go. Rip off the Band-Aid."

"What?"

"Your homework, for last time," Elliot reminded him, "C'mon, out with it. We can start with a name,
or how you met. Sometimes people like to work backwards…"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Fitz, you had three days to prepare for this," Elliot suddenly looked worried, "I gave you time so you
could prepare. If you can't – I'm going to have to given your state – "

"I fell, jogging last night," Fitz said, offering his palms up for inspection, "You can ask Tom."

"Ok," Elliot had a small easy going smile, "So tell me about her."

"What's to say?" Fitz asked.

"I don't need a name – we can call her whatever you want."

"Anything?" Fitz asked, Elliot nodded – then Fitz was quiet a little while longer.

"You know, if you can't – " Elliot broke off, "I'm going to have to bump you up to every day visits."

"Right," Fitz said, swinging one leg over the other knee, "Like I said, what do you want to know?"

"Let's start with how you met."

"She was working on my campaign."

"The first one? For President?"

"Yeah," Fitz said, he was suddenly very aware of the air in his windpipe, "She knocked me right out. I
was gone before she even told me her name. I was – "

"So it was love at first sight."

Fitz didn't say anything.

"So your relationship was – sexual?"

"You could say that," Fitz replied, and Elliot dropped his pencil.

"Fitz, I feel like we're eighteen steps backwards with the way you're answering these questions," He
said, and Fitz slumped his shoulders, "Did something happen since the last time we met?"

"She showed up last night," Fitz said, "She took off, right after Gerry – died."

"Good, it helps to say it as it is," Elliot commended him, "She showed up last night? Where?"

"Tom's been giving me range lessons, in the secret service bunker," Fitz said, and Elliot looked a little
confused as to why anyone would give him a firearm so close after a suicide attempt, "It helps. It
helps with my anger. Tom watches that whole time, and he locks it up after. He won't give me one for
real until you give the ok."

"Alright," Elliot accepted Tom's precautions, "So you were at the range with Tom…"

"And we came back up to the Oval, and she was waiting for us with my secretary."

"She was in the White House?"

"She has a hard pass," Fitz informed him.

"You gave it to her?"

"She used to work for us," Fitz said, "For a while – she saved my ass more than I could tell you. She's
got a permanent pass, she can get in whenever she wants. I asked Cy to revoke it. He told me he
wouldn't."

"Why's that?"

"He thinks I still love her," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded, "At this point I think he thinks she can't do
anything but help."

"What do you think?"

"I think she's toxic," Fitz replied, "I think that she never loved me at all. – I don't – I can't even…
Anyway, she was waiting up there. So I met with her, strictly business. One of the people who used to
work for her turned up murdered, she wanted help investigating."

"And you said?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she asked," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded, "She won't stick around long. She has a tendency
to run off."
"Do you think you'll – "

"No," Fitz said, and he could feel his foreign heartbeat against his shirt.

"Ok," Elliot said, "So this is a woman that you've been having on and off relations with since – four,
five years ago?"

"Almost six," Fitz replied, and Elliot nodded.

"What – " Elliot took a deep breath and marked something down, "You need to help me understand,
because if I can't understand, I can't help you. So, let's start from the beginning, ok?"

"Alright," Fitz said taking a breath before continuing, "We met on the trail, by the time the election
was coming around Mellie and I were either going to get a divorce, or run. I figured running would be
better for the kids – fuck was I wrong – anyway, Cyrus pulled on an old student of his to help with the
public relations. Which was Olivia."

"Olivia?"

"Yeah," Fitz said, the name had come off like a shard of glass lodged in his lung.

It got easier as he kept talking, and Elliot seemed to get that – and asked fewer and fewer questions as
he continued talking. He told him about how painful it had been to watch her working on the
campaign, and how much she had resisted the connection that they very clearly had had. About the
bus, and the conversation n that he had, how he had told her that he wished he had met her earlier, and
how much he had meant it. How much he still meant it, and how much he wished he could go back.
Throw the race, and stop it there. Keep it simple.

"So she was a game changer?" Elliot clarified, and Fitz nodded.

"She was the most intelligent, most beautiful woman I had ever met," Fitz told him, "And there was
this thing – about her eyes. They were – hypnotizing. They still are. I couldn't even stay mad at her
last night…"

"Let's stick to a timeline," Elliot seemed to want to make sure that he didn't slip, and Fitz nodded,
"What happened once you were elected? When did Mellie know?"

"Mel knew before anything even happened, and I'm sure very quickly after something did happen,"
Fitz said disinterestedly, "And once I was elected – I made her my Press Secretary."

"Oh," Elliot said, as realization dawned on him, "This is Olivia Pope that we're talking about."

"It is," Fitz replied, taking a breath and Elliot nodded.

"She's gorgeous. Fiesty."

"She's perfect," Fitz said, trying to dislodge the imaginary glass.

"So what happened?"

Fitz took a sip of his water, and continued with the story as he remembered it up until the Amanda
Palmer scandal. When Olivia had been convinced that he had been capable, when he honestly wasn't.
All he had ever wanted was to take Olivia, and get as far away from the presidency as possible. He
skipped the rigging, not sure how to adapt that into something that was trivial, and told him about
being shot. About wanting to hear Olivia's voice, and that she was his first call. How he had had Cy
call her the second that he walked into the room.

"After that, I tried to keep someone with an eye on her," Fitz said, careful with his words, "A buddy of
mine from the Navy. He had some experience with that stuff, so I had him watching her – he didn't
know what was going on. And we weren't exactly on speaking terms at the time."

"You weren't on speaking terms? You were just shot."

"It's a really long fucking story," Fitz said, tired, "Long story short. I thought she was the love of my
life. I built us a house, I tried to quit – my son died, and she took off."

"And how did that make you feel?"

Fitz's ears burned.

"We're done here," He said, going to get up – Elliot looked confused, "Betrayed, Abandoned. Not
only had she slept with who I thought was my friend multiple times at this point – she took off. We had
talked about spending our lives together. My life was falling apart, and she was nowhere to be
found."

"Is she the reason that you tried to hang yourself?"

"No," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded.

"Good," Elliot replied, "That's good – most people want to point the finger – it's much healthier to
realize that it's often a mixture of – well, I can see a lot of factors as it is."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes," Elliot replied, taking a deep breath, "It's often a symptom after any one of your experiences.
Low self-esteem, from your father…"

"Did you just diagnose me with low self-esteem?"

"Let me finish," Elliot told him, "Emotional abuse, Sexual abuse, Psycological abuse. Abandonment
issues, situational depression–"

"Sexual – no one ever…"

"You were in your own words forced to conceive a child with your wife? She also used manipulation
in an encounter in the shower while you were intoxicated, and clearly upset?"

"What even is situational depression – ?"

"You're a mess, if you don't mind me saying so, Mr. President. And most of that was before we even
got to this Olivia person - which is where your situational depression, abandonment, and some of
your psychological abuse comes in. We can go through each one. It's going to be a lot of work, but I
think you can do it. We can do it, together, if you'll let me help you. I think we can significantly lighten
your load here."

"Isn't that why I'm here in the first place?"

Elliot nodded.

"Do you drink?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"But do you self medicate with it? It's really common for situational depression..."

"I guess."

"You need to stop that, immediately," Elliot told him, and Fitz nodded, "It's incredibly dangerous, you
should tell someone you trust - Tom, or Cyrus maybe. Someone who can help you monitor it."

"Ok."

"Promise me," Elliot, watching him intently and Fitz nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."
 6. Chapter 6
A/N: Hello, lovelies. Enjoy the chapter and leave me a note particularly how you feel about a new
couple I just decided should be a thing… so enjoy :)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Six:

"Sir," Cyrus poked his head into the Oval late, "The coast is clear, Sir. She's been in and out most of
the day, but she's gone now. I mean, if you wanted to get up to the residence without running into
her… I'm assuming that's why you've locked yourself in here all day."

"Right," Fitz replied, standing up and stretching, "She just left?"

"Sir," Cyrus said, nearly rolling his eyes, "Why do this to yourself? Why – "

"You know I asked her to run away with me?" Fitz asked, and Cyrus nodded, "Multiple times. I asked
her, I begged her, I told her I'd quit, I'd get a divorce. I would throw out everything, and run away with
her. It was what I wanted. You know what she said to me last time? She said she couldn't leave 'them'.
It's a year later, and she's left all of us. She didn't even bring me with her, she didn't even stop to tell
me she was leaving. She didn't even glance back over her shoulder."

"I don't know that that's fair," Cyrus replied, "She seems to be looking back now."

"For her friend," Fitz could barely voice it, and Cyrus nodded

"She could have figured it out without coming to see you, Sir," Cyrus said, nearly collapsing onto one
of the couches, and Fitz paused by the Scotch near the other one, "She's a smar girl. –Sir- "

"I know," Fitz put his back to it as he leaned on the arm.

"I can have it removed, if you want, Sir," Cyrus told him and Fitz nodded.

"That's probably a good idea," Fitz replied, leaning back, "I don't think I can do this. I'm – "

"You're the President, Sir," Cyrus replied, "You're the one calling the shots."

Fitz laughed, out loud. It was slightly bitter, it didn't even sound like him.

"When was that ever true?" Fitz challenged him, "Name one week that it wasn't you, or Mellie, or
Olivia – or some fucked up alliance of all three of you that was in charge. Your hands jammed up my
ass like a damn puppet."

"Wasn't that the way that you wanted it, Sir?" Cyrus shot back, "You didn't want to be President.
Mellie and I – we wanted to be president. Olivia – I don't know how she got mixed up in this – it was
probably a mix of both of us. Me calling her in, you keeping her here. You're a born politician, even if
you do hate it so much. So, at some point we convinced her being president was what you wanted. So,
she ended up wanting it for you. Not saying it makes her better or worse than Mellie or me, but she
loved you – "

"She did not," Fitz scoffed, "She loved the control she had over me, she loved how much I loved her."

"No, I don't think she did, Mr. President," Cyrus said, and something about the glare Fitz was getting
made him keep his mouth shut, "I mean, I'm sure that level of adoration and love to a woman who
lived much of her life without any – I'm sure it was – well, a lot. I don't think she liked the pressure of
it. So, no Mr. President – I think you're wrong."

"Because you know her so much better than I do? Is that how you know this?"

"No," Cyrus said, taking a breath, "I know because a year ago her father gave her the option to get on
a plane and take off. To start all over, and I convinced her to stay, for you. For me, but for you, for
herself. She didn't hate her life here. She was successful, she was amazing here. You clearly don't
know her if you think she left because she doesn't love you…the girl could be convinced of anything if
someone tried to tell her it was what was best. For all her talk of me being the Machiavelli – she's the
same. She did it for a living, fixing people's problems. Doing anything to make it ok in the end. The
ends justify the means, and when they don't – something's got to change."

"I thought we had the same ends," Fitz said, and Cyrus took a breath, standing up.

"Sir, you may not realize this – because you basically had to roll out of bed and show up in order to
get the presidency, but most people have to fight for things," Cyrus said, "And if it seems too easy, or
seems like it shouldn't have happened the way it did – there's probably something wrong with how
you got there."

"Get the fuck out of here," Fitz said, getting up, his hand was in a fist, "Who the hell fixed that for me?
Who made it so that I could just roll out of bed, huh?"

He was trying to get back over to his desk as quickly as possible to put some much needed distance
between himself and Cyrus. On his way by, his fist hit the glass bottle and the scotch hit the floor. It
shattered on contact and the all too familiar liquid splashed the hem of his pants, soaking his shoe, but
he didn't notice until he had reached the desk, standing behind it as Cyrus stood in front of the desk.
He looked from Fitz to the glass and mess on the floor, and then back up to Fitz. Fitz raised his
eyebrows, as if daring him to say something, and Cyrus just took a breath before turning and leaving
the office. The door was left swung open as Fitz slipped into his chair, not bothering to go and shut it.

"Everything ok, Sir?" Tom asked as he stepped into the doorway.

"Yeah," Fitz said, looking up at the ceiling.

"You ready?" He asked, and Fitz rolled his eyes.

"Why are you so up for this?" He asked, and Tom shrugged.

"Anything to help, Sir," Tom replied, and Fitz watched his eyes go from the glass on the floor and
back up at him, "We can have someone clean that up while we're gone."

"Yeah."

Tom missed the slight sarcasm, or at least kindly ignored it as Fitz got up and followed him down to
the bunker. Fitz was slightly curious that no one had questioned where they were disappearing to at
night, and why. However, with everything else that was going on, as long as he wasn't causing any
major concern, people weren't worrying about him. They worried more when he was alone, and he
knew that there was a good enough reason for it, but honestly – Tom was teaching him how to shoot.
And he wasn't exactly sure, but there was no way that the sort of training that Tom was giving him was
standard for the Secret Service, but he didn't really want to look too much into it. He hadn't the
slightest what Tom had done before becoming an Agent, but he couldn't see what much it mattered at
this point.

The shooting range did very little to clear his head that night. It was strange, because usually it
cleared out his head and allowed him to stop thinking. There was also the slight pleasure at seeing
that he had managed to shoot the living shit out of a piece of paper, as lame as it sounded. He was
hoping that he could talk to Tom, and figure something else out. It was starting to bore him, and he
was getting better. He could aim now, and Tom had started to give him challenges. Different things to
aim for, and different little ways to reload, and get a quicker grip on the trigger.

After his 'lesson' Tom delivered him back to the residence, which was the usual when they were late
shooting. While usually he stopped in the kitchen and got himself a snack before heading to bed, head
clear. It wasn't going to be so easy tonight, so he grabbed a handful of Cheez-Its from the box in the
cabinet that was designated for Teddy's snacks. He had been nicking them for months, he wasn't
allowed them under whatever shit diet Mellie had told the press and the kitchen he was on, and Teddy
never seemed to mind sharing. He walked down the hall to check in on his son, who was happily
sleeping in his bed, and then headed out the residence doors. Daniel had been waiting just outside,
and Fitz waved him off.

"It's ok, Daniel," Fitz told him, "I'm just going to wander around a bit. No danger there, right?"

"Yes, sir," Daniel replied, and Fitz nodded.

"Stay here for Teddy," He continued, "There's enough agent that I'll be able to find one if I need one."

"Yes, sir," Daniel repeated himself, and Fitz headed on down the hallway.

The White House was quiet at night. It was nearly midnight, so even the most ambitious of the press
had been kicked out hours ago as a matter of security. Olivia had been different, when she worked
there. Her title as Press Secretary had allowed her to stay as late as she wanted, and guards and
secret service were all ordered to let her be unless she was coming into the Oval Office with a shot
gun in her hand declaring that she was going to shoot him. That had only happened once, and there
was no actual shot gun involved. Anyway, he probably hadn't walked around this late since she had
left. He used to beg her to work late, so he could surprise her in her office. He was heading down
there almost on autopilot.

He nodded to the agents as he passed them, and slowly turned away, off towards a section he had
never real spent time in. The area where they used to do tours, before they were afraid that someone
was going to blow themselves up, and with them all of Eleanor Roosevelt's china, or a portrait that
Dolly Madison managed to save the last time the place burned down. He walked down and went to
turn into one of the old womens' rooms and stopped in his tracks, throwing his arm over his eyes. He
wasn't sure exactly what had been visible, but he really didn't want to know.

"God!"

"Sorry, Sir," Lauren scrambled.

He pulled his arm down as Lauren went around and collected her things from the couch they had been
strewn on. Tom stood rather solemnly, straightening his tie as Lauren ran out of the room. Fitz took a
deep breath, blinking perhaps a few too many times as he felt his eyebrows rising. He ran his hands
back through his hair as Tom put his ear piece back in. Fitz looked around the room, and pointed to
the ground where what he assumed were Lauren's panties were crumpled on the floor between the
couch and an end table. Tom leaned over and snatched them up, tossing them into his pocket.

"Really?" Fitz was sure it wasn't what he was supposed to say, but it was all that was going to come
out.

"Sir – I – "

"Don't worry about it," Fitz said, "You both still manage to do your jobs – I don't give a shit what
happens otherwise."

"Thank you, Sir," Tom replied, and Fitz nodded.

"How did I miss this?"

"There's a lot of things that go on around here," Tom told him, "It's impressive what you'd miss if you
weren't looking for them."

"Right," Fitz said, and Tom nodded, "How long – never mind, I don't need to know."

"About six months."

"Right," Fitz said, turning around and heading back out of the room, "Time for bed, I think."

The White House was weird at night.

"Welcome," Elliot said, knowing full well by now the look on Fitz's face was not one that meant he
was happy to be there, "So what're we talking about today?"
"Aren't the discussion questions your job?" Fitz asked, giving a slightly teasing smile.

"You seem better then yesterday."

"Yeah, we'll see."

"Ok, so why don't we go in order, yes?" He said, "Your dad."

"My dad?"

"Tell me about the last time you saw him, before he passed."

"It was after a debate," Fitz replied, taking a breath, "He was upset with the course I had chosen for
my campaign – as was the norm. We had a fight, verbal. Then we left him off the trail, and I went to
the next stop. I got a call on the campaign plane, and then I told Olivia and Mel. After the funeral I
was upset, and taking it out on an old tree we were going to be taking down. Olivia came and found
me, she let me yell and scream, and swing my axe around – then she calmed me down, gave me a hug.
She stood up on the stump, so that she was taller than me and…"

He caught himself, he was letting himself –

"Anyway, I was upset," Fitz continued, "It doesn't take a genius or a shrink to realize that I didn't have
the best relationship with my father – or to tell my that my father wasn't a good guy. He was always
just so controlling and disapproving and – "

"And do you think that's maybe why you might have a tendency to lean on the rest of the people around
you for approval?" Elliot asked him, and Fitz furrowed his brow, "Don't look at me like that, no one
could ever become president if the weren't already the world's biggest people pleasers to begin with.
That's all your job is, is keeping people happy. Honestly, I think that anyone even willing to
considered for president should be – anyway… do you see how this all connects?"

"I guess?"

"Does it help?" Elliot asked him, "Does it help to identify it, and know at least where it partially
stems from?"

"I guess."

"Ok, so when does this show up?"

"All the time."

"Ok," Elliot said, taking a deep breath, "Do you remember your first memory of your father?"

"I dunno," Fitz said, leaning back into the side of the couch, "I guess when I was five or six?"

"What do you remember?"

"Ah, waiting outside his office?" Fitz replied, "He was supposed to take me to a baseball game he
was throwing the first pitch for – my mom sat me outside his office with my glove, and he went out
the back. He forgot me, and brought his secretary, instead. Mom had him on the couch for a few
months after that. Though, it probably had more to do with the fact that he brought his secretary, than
him forgetting about me. I must've sat there for hours before an aide saw me and brought me back to
my nanny. Wow – I haven't told anyone that in…"

"Who was the last person?"

"Olivia," Fitz said, without even blinking, "I think she was the only one I ever told."

"Why?"

"It's embarrassing," Fitz replied, and Elliot nodded as he jotted something down.

"And you were ok telling her that?"

"In a moment of weakness," Fitz said and Elliot nodded.

"Did your dad ever apologize for leaving you?" Elliot asked.

"My father only made apologies to people he thought mattered," Fitz said, "Or if he was keeping up
appearances. His five year old son was not counted among those people."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't understand why mom was so mad at him," Fitz said, "So I slept on the floor, next to him on
the couch in case he was lonely, or if he needed anything. Mom had also ordered all the maids and the
cook not to speak to him, or they'd be fired."

"I see," Elliot said, nodding slightly, "Did he say anything to you the next morning?"

"Called me a dumb kid for making a mess and dragging my sheets into the living room. I think I
accidentally spilled his beer from the night before, too."

"Alright," Elliot glanced over at the clock, and Fitz realized that his time was just about up, "Don't get
up so quick, I have some homework for you."

"Oh?" Fitz asked, and Elliot nodded.

"I want you to stop," Elliot said, "As much as you can. I want you to do more than think about what
you want in a situation. I know given your job it will be difficult, but in a personal sense – as best as
you can I want you to stop saying and bowing and kowtowing to everyone. I want you to put yourself
first. Which I'm going to guess now is going to be easier said than done for you, but I want you to try.
Twenty-four hours. They'll think you're just in a mood… you'll be fine."

"Ok," Fitz said quietly.

"See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"It's going to take more out of you than you think it's going to," Elliot told him with a kind smile,
"You'll want to talk tomorrow."

"You're the doc."

 7. Chapter 7
A/N: Happy Scandal Thursday, ya'll. That episode was crazy, and I'm super excited for next week.
My guess is Maya Pope might have a few guesses on how to navigate "the highest bidder"…. Also,
I've started a full rewatch with my roommate – Fitz is so precious it hurts in season one…Anyway,
Enjoy :)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Seven:

Fitz was sitting in the Oval Office, waiting for Cyrus to bring him notes from the meeting that he had
had to miss with an environmental lobby. There was only so much that could be done with them, and
with Hollis Doyle sitting in the meeting, Fitz almost wished he could have gone. Almost. It was sure
to be a bloodbath, with both parties not willing to conform either way, and the end result would be
that nothing got done in either direction. That was usually how things like that happened, and usually
why someone else took the meeting for him and filled him in later. So that he could read over notes
from some other meeting, or prepare himself with some other news or issue. There were too many
voices to be heard, and too many people to take care of for him to personally take each one. It just
wasn't possible.

"Fitz," Mellie's shrill voice met his ear and he just about winced as she burst into the Oval.

"Yes?" Fitz took a deep breath as Lauren rather cautiously got up and closed the door for her,
"Thanks, Lauren."

He hadn't said anything to her about the other night, when he had come across her and Tom. He
assumed that Tom had passed on what he had said – but that didn't stop her from being more invisible
than usual. Fitz was vaguely trying to figure out how to get her to stop and go back to normal – but he
figured that eventually it would just go back to normal on its own. Eventually she would realize that
he didn't care, and honestly didn't mind. There was enough larger things to deal with than them
screwing. When he thought about it, it was probably good – he had started to worry about Tom.

"I have Karen coming home this weekend, just thought I'd remind you," Mellie said, and Fitz nodded.

"Alright, thanks," He replied, barely looking up from the notes he had been reading.

"And I thought on Saturday, the four of us would go to the hospital and visit the sick kids – bring the
press core," Mellie said, and Fitz dropped his papers on his desk, "Let the American people see a
healing first family helping other worried families – that whole bit."

"No," Fitz said, and Mellie looked surprised, "You and Karen can go visit sick kids if you want to,
but you're not bringing the press. And you're not bringing a one and a half year old into a building full
of diseases that he hasn't built up an immune system against for shits and giggles. We're not using our
kids for political leverage, not again."
"I will use my kids however I want to, Fitz," Mellie replied, her voice in dangerous territory, and Fitz
' up from his desk.

"No, you won't," Fitz said, taking a breath, "Because they're my kids, too. No one's taking their
pictures and no one's using them for political gain, not even you. Karen's grieving, that doesn't mean
you get to dress her up like some show pony and walk her out in front of all the cameras. She's
sixteen. She needs to be cared for., not thrown to the wolves. She needs protection, which is what we
were doing when we sent her back to school. So she could grieve in private."

"If you won't go, I'm sure the country would understand – "

"Fuck it, Mellie," Fitz felt his temper rising through the roof, "If you so much as put my kids in the car
for this I will bury you. I will take away any sort of spotlight you thought you were going to get for
months, and I will hold a damned emergency press conference if you try this. You can parade yourself
out for the cameras all you like, I really couldn't care less – but my kids are staying out."

"Fine," Mellie said, "Tennis all weekend, then?"

"I thought I'd ask Karen what she wanted to do," Fitz said, and Mellie rolled her eyes.

"She's a teenager," Mellie said, "She'll want to go to the mall with her friends."

"Why don't we fly them in?" Fitz asked, and Mellie looked like he had lost a few teeth and had a
banjo strapped to his back, "You know, Ally and Layne. Her friends from Santa Barbara, that she only
really gets to see once a summer? We could organize a shopping trip for them or something…"

"Who are you?" Mellie asked, and Fitz was confused, "Ugh."

She stormed out of the office, and Fitz leaned back in his chair.

"Lauren," He called her in.

"Yes, sir?" She entered with her head down.

"Chin up, Lauren," He said kindly, "I want you to get a hold of Karen's friends Ally and Layne. See if
they can fly out this weekend to spend time with Karen. Assure their parents they'll be home by
Sunday night?"

"You want me to arrange a sleepover?" Lauren clarified, and Fitz nodded.

"I can do it if you can get me the phone numbers," He said, not really sensing sarcasm from her, and
wondering if he had missed it.

"No, I can do it," She said, with a little smile.

"Thanks," Fitz said, and she left the room.

"Sir," Cyrus said with a folder of notes under his arm as he walked in – he nearly threw them down
on his desk, "I'm delivering these to you because I said I would – but to recap what just happened – "

"Hollis won't see any sort of cut backs, and the environmentalists can't think of any other ways to help
their cause?" Fitz said it for him, and Cyrus nodded, as Fitz pushed the file to the corner of his desk,
"Same as last month, then."

"Exact same, Sir," Cyrus replied, giving a little huff, "We have foreign affairs in ten, Sir."

"Thanks, Cy," Fitz said, and Cyrus took a breath.

"Sir, the other night – "

"We're not talking about this, Cy."

"Sir?"

"You want to talk about it so you can take back some of what you said, and make the argument
stronger for what you don't want to take back," Fitz called him out, "I don't really care about either. I
don't want to listen to you defend yourself, and I don't really care to deal with it at all at the moment.
We're good, don't worry about it. It's not nearly the worst or the last argument we're going to have."

"Ok," Cyrus said, and Fitz nodded.

"Now let's go."

The meeting was nearly more dull than he imagined Hollis and the environmentalists going back and
forth for about the thousandth time was for Cyrus to listen to. There was no new news, and most of it
was just saying that nothing had changed, tensions were still high, but no one had done anything out of
the ordinary. There were a few more border issues near France, but nothing too major and Italy was
fighting once again with Turkey over something that barely seemed relevant anymore. The good thing
was it didn't seem as though anyone was actually going to do anything about their troubles in the next
forty-eight hours more than they had done in the past fifty years. The middle east was a mess, and
some troops were coming home early as a result of a poisoned water supply.

"They poisoned their water?" Fitz checked, it seemed odd.

"Sec Nav's not sure it was intentional," said one of the men sitting across from him in a gray suit, "It
could just have been a natural toxin. There were no deaths, just some sick soldiers."

"Right," Fitz said, as he gathered his papers.

Fitz didn't have another minute to stop until dinner, and even that had been on the inside of a military
briefing. He wasn't even able to get back to the Oval until afterwards, and before that he had to do a
press conference. Cyrus continued briefings as he walked him through the halls back to his office. It
stopped at the door because Fitz made him. He wasn't going to have time for gun lessons, which as
much as he teased and complained were really a partial highlight of the day. He needed to collect his
thoughts and figure out what the plan of attack was for the next day so he could put schedule notes on
Lauren's desk before turning in for the night. Instead, he walked into the Oval, the door shut behind
him, and he froze.

"No." He said, shaking his head as he realized who was standing in the middle of the room, "No. You
can't be here. You need to go."

"Fitz – "

"No," He replied, walking by her on his way to stand behind his desk, "You need to go. You said the
first time you that you did it because you wanted me to be better, and that's what I'm doing now.
Unless, of course, you were lying about that, too."

"You're punishing me?"

"What?" Fitz felt his voice change slightly, "This is from the queen of doling out unjust punishments?
You left, Olivia. What did you expect? Did you really expect to come back to find me twiddling my
thumbs and waiting for you to come back? You have my help to find out what happened to your friend,
but other than that, I don't want to talk to you."

"You blame me for leaving?"

"I don't know what else I could have expected," Fitz commented, "It's what happens when you seem to
think its looking just a little too hard."

"Well, when you physically tell me your wife – "

"Oh, shut up," Fitz seethed, he could feel his face turning red, "You interrupted a conversation that had
absolutely nothing to do with you. It was about something that happened fifteen years before I met
you. Something painful that happened to me when you were seventeen years old. You were still in
high school, and I didn't even know you existed. You always gripe and complain about your life not
revolving around me. I'm a person – year, I shouldn't have yelled at you like tha, and I said I was
sorry. I said something wrong, and I am sorry about that – "

"You made it seem like it was a mistake," Olivia said, "You made it seem like your relationship with
Mellie had always been – "

"Loveless?" He filled in for her, "There are all sorts of love, Olivia. Something would have to be
drastically worse for a man not to have any inclination to help and be at least civil when he can to the
mother of his children. People marry every day for reasons other than love. For convenience, or for
wealth or whatever they damn please without a problem. Usually their kids are none the wiser,
because they figured it out in an arrangement to make a life out of it. That was the agreement Mellie
and I had. Years she's been guilting me, holding it against me, and publically shaming me for falling in
love with you. So, at the time thinking, that she had fallen for Andrew? Years ago? That logically
speaking Karen might not have been my little girl? - But if you were willing to hear me out rather than
figuring out how to punish me for being human, you would have let me explain. But you like running
away…"

"Fitz…"

"Go," He repeated, "I don't – please, Olivia. Just go. I don't know what's wrong with me that I have a
wife who won't leave, and you who won't stay – but I've had just about enough. So why don't you do
what you do best and get going? I'm tired."

Fitz was woken up early the next morning so that they could get him to Elliot before the day really
started. Though, because of this, Elliot had had to bring along his youngest child, who's daycare didn't
open up until after their session would be over. It wasn't too much of an issue, Elliot's Olivia, as he
had to label her in his head, was about a year old, and was sitting in the corner on a pink blanket,
playing happily by herself. He looked up from the spot he was staring at on the floor and looked up at
Elliot.

"You look like hell," Elliot said, and Fitz nodded.

"I feel like it, too."

"Homework was harder than you thought after all?" Elliot asked, and Fitz shook his head.

"No, not until Olivia showed up," Fitz replied, and Elliot gave him a somewhat bracing look.

"How'd that go?"

"It could have gone better," Fitz replied, and Elliot raised an eyebrow, "She's in the area investigating
a friend's murder. I told her I'd help – but, that it ended there. I told her that the other night."

"So why was she there last night?"

"I don't know," Fitz said, rubbing his hands against his temples, "It didn't end well though."

"What happened?"

"We had a fight," Fitz said, take a breath, and Elliot furrowed his brow.

"Even though you're not together?"

"It's never really mattered whether we were or weren't together," Fitz replied, taking a breath, "She
was upset, she came in and after taking my filter out all day – I hurt her."

"With things you said?"

"Yes," Fitz said rather solemnly.

"So what do you want to talk about today?" Elliot asked him, rather abruptly, "Do we want to jump to
Olivia? Or would you like to discuss Mellie?"
"I think I've just about got that out last night," Fitz said, and Elliot looked vaguely confused, "We were
fighting and I was yelling. She said something about something that happened with Mellie – and I
flipped out. I lost it. I shouldn't have. The look on her face as she left, it was – awful."

"Why did you agree to help her in the first place?"

"She asked," Fitz replied, and Elliot nodded, "She asked me to help, and her friend – he was a good
guy. He used to work for her."

"And?"

"She asked me nicely," Fitz replied, knowing exactly how pathetic he sounded.

"This girl's got you wrapped around her finger, huh?" Elliot asked, and Fitz took a deep breath,
watching his own chest rise and fall, "What happened the first night she turned up?"

"She showed up, and she asked me to help figure out what happened," Fitz said, shrugging slightly, "I
told her I'd help her, and – "

"Did you want to?"

"No," Fitz said, and he took a breath and Elliot waited for him to continue, "Not at first. Just seeing
her made me so angry, and then – her eyes – god. It was like someone broke the window and stabbed
some of the glass through my lung. It was like – "

"You love her, still."

"I always will," Fitz replied, "I just can't watch her go again. I can't handle her leaving again."

"What's your goal here, Fitz."

"To not have to come and see you."

"That's not a good answer," Elliot replied, "What do you want?"

"I want to marry Olivia, move her to Vermont, and have a couple kids," He said, and Elliot looked
surprised, "But I also need to find out a way to be ok if that doesn't happen. I need to learn how to be
ok without her around, and I need to make sure that I can take care of myself. I don't want to need her.
I want to be able to move up to Vermont after my presidency without her. I need to learn how to be
me, the me that I like, the me that she brought out, but I need to be able to be that person without her."

"Ok," Elliot said, nodding, "We can work on that."

"And I don't know how strong I'll be able to be," Fitz, "There's only so long… before we turn into
Fitz and Liv again. It's not really a weakness so much as it's the inevitable. So, I need to be ok when
she decides she's going to leave again."
"That will be harder."

"I need to be stronger. I need to survive this."

"I agree, Mr. President."

 8. Chapter 8
A/N: 3…2…1…

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Eight:

Fitz found himself the next day, sitting in exactly the same position with himself on the couch, and
Elliot in the chair. He had just come in and sat down, so they hadn't exactly started talking yet. The
morning had been filled with meetings – which was usually what happened when a small country in
Africa decided to go to war with the neighboring one. The new war had very little to do with the
United States, just the fact that there were Aid Workers that they had to rescue from near the borders.
Other than that, it really didn't concern them – yet. He and every one of his advisors knew that it had
the potential to get nasty, very quickly. However, their immediate concern was to retrieve their Aid
Workers, which was going to be easy. The countries wanted to beat the hell out of each other, not
challenge the United States to a duel over a handful of people. The meetings that resulted though,
those had already gotten Fitz to the point where he was ready to fall asleep for the night, and it was
only about one'o'clock.

"How was your morning?" Elliot asked, shuffling his notes, ordering them a certain way for some
reason.

"Ok," Fitz said, "I've had worse. I've had better."

"So is the job of the president," Elliot replied, and Fitz nodded, "I'm going to let you know, my wife's
starting to get a little bit suspicious. I think you're the first patient that I've ever actually lost sleep
over trying to figure out how to help them. My poor wife last night didn't know what was wrong – but
I think I have a plan."

"Well that makes one of us," Fitz replied, sighing heavily.

"Well, in order for it work at all, you're going to have to trust me."

"You've been doing well so far."

"And you're going to have to cooperate," He said, and Fitz knew that he knew that was going to be the
harder part, "Even when you don't want to."

"And then, after – I can stop spending so much time in this damned office?"

"Yes," Elliot said, and Fitz gave him a nod.

"Ok."
"Alright," Elliot took a deep breath, "I need you to tell me about Olivia. I need you to tell me what
you love about her. I need you to tell me everything."

"Everything?" Fitz asked, after a slight pause.

"Everything," Elliot replied, and Fitz blinked.

How could he even start to imagine how to catalog something like that?

"I don't – I don't know how to do that," Fitz said, "Everything she means to me? How she makes me
feel? How amazing she is?"

"All of it," Elliot encouraged him, and Fitz took a deep breath.

"Ok," He was trying to get his thoughts together, "She's tough. She doesn't take any shit from anyone.
Well, except me, most of the time. I can catch her letting me get away with things she'd never allow
from anyone else, but at the same time, she keeps me in line. She doesn't – at least she didn't – seem to
want anything from me. Everyone in my life – they've wanted things from me. Olivia, she – she
wanted things for me. Or at least that was how it seemed. She wanted me to be President because she
thought I wanted it. Because I told her I wanted it, when I didn't. My father wanted it."

"When did this happen?" Elliot asked.

"Just after my father died," Fitz told him leaning back on the couch, "It was after the funeral. When she
came to find me and I was chopping the tree? I told her that I wanted to be president, and she made it
happen, at all costs. But I didn't mean it. I never really wanted to be president, at that point I had no
idea what I wanted. But the fight that I had had with my father just before he died – He told me that I
would never be president. He told me that I didn't have what it takes, and I don't. Olivia ran my
campaign, she made the people love me. I had very little to do with it."

"Ok," Elliot jotted something down.

"Livy's – Olivia's…"

"Did you call her Livy?"

"I did."

"Call her it now," Elliot replied, and Fitz gave him a strange look, "Just trust me – it'll bring more out.
I know you, you learn better when you know why you're doing something – it's the same with most
people. By calling her what you used to call her, it will bring up more memories, and it'll bring in
more emotion. It will help you release it better."

"Alright," Fitz figured it was worth a shot, "Livy's just unlike anyone I've ever met. She's this fiercely
independent person, who's smarter than anyone I know. She absolutely kills everything that she goes
for, and I just am in awe of her, really. This is a woman who had a father worse than mine, and
somehow she turned into this amazing person, with power, and grace. I can't even put her essence into
words, I don't think. And she's beautiful. Like – a goddess. She's an actual goddess. I don't know if
she'd be Athena or Elpis, or – "

"Elpis?" Elliot questioned him, "The Goddess of hope? That's a little -"

"There's nothing more dangerous or destructive than hope," Fitz told him, "Four letters that might as
well mean death. Four letters that could just as easily slaughter thousands. You work in politics long
enough, you realize just how devastating hope actually is. When I met Olivia I thought – I don't even
know what I was thinking. There was no thinking. And then – there was hope. There was hope that my
life wasn't going to be the sums of everyone else's dreams. I started having my own. Of a life that I
actually wanted with Olivia, because there was hope. There was hope that I would be able to finally
be the person that I wanted to be – Olivia was everything that I wanted to be. To be independent of
everyone, and in a normal relationship. Hope built a house in Vermont that I'm paying a caretaker to
make sure doesn't burn to the ground. Hope made me actually think that I was going to be able to get
away from everything that I hated, and start over. Livy brought out everything I've ever somewhat
liked in myself, and changed me, almost completely. Hope made me think that I would be able to be
that person full time."

"Elpis it is then."

"Yeah," Fitz replied, taking a deep breath, "Elpis it is."

"Tell me more," Elliot said, and Fitz took a breath.

"What're you missing?"

"How about this other guy?" Elliot asked, and Fitz almost winced.

"I wanted to keep secret service agents on her," Fitz said quietly, "She's a huge danger to everything.
If something were to happen to her – the things that she knows about this country. The power and
control that she has over me – she needed to be protected. So, when she told me that she didn't want
agents following her, I hired out. Jake was a buddy of mine from the Navy. He was working at the
pentagon at the time, and he had done black ops with me. I thought I could trust him to keep an eye on
her. He put video surveillance in her apartment, and followed her occasionally. But usually she was
at work, she's a bit of a workaholic – but she's safe at work."

"Why is she safe at work?" This seemed almost like a curious question, but Fitz shrugged and
answered anyway.

"Because at work she has Huck," Fitz said, and Elliot was still confused, "There are people that I'm
not allowed to know if they exist. The CIA barely knows if they exist. But if I believed in the
existence of these people, Huck would be one of them. Enhanced interrogators, things like that. If they
do anything worse I don't know about it. Anyways, his file is almost completely blacked out – all I
actually know is that he was honorably discharged from some branch of the government, and lived in
the subway for a while before Livy basically adopted him, and let him live with her for a while. He's
insanely loyal - point is, she had a guard dog at work."
"Right," Elliot said, and Fitz nodded.

"She was safe when she was at work," Fitz repeated, and Elliot nodded, "Anyway, I hadn't told Jake
the exact nature of our relationship. I'm willing to guess that he found out when she was sent to the
hospital late one night and I showed up to hold her hand and hover while the doctors took care of her.
It was too late though, he was already screwing her – he got it on tape, too."

"What's the percentages?"

"Last time I checked, she loves me," Fitz said, "Whatever that means to her. And she 'doesn't know' if
she has feelings for him."

"That's a hard position to be in," Elliot commented, "For you. Your hands are tied, there's only so
much you can do, and you can't really…"

"Tell me about it," Fitz said, "I can't do much more than I have. I can't up the ante. I built her a house
in Vermont. I tried to quit, and she stopped me because she was afraid I would resent her. Never mind
what years of leaving me and coming back over and over again would do to us. I tried to get a
divorce, and she told me that I couldn't. That she wouldn't want me then, I think those were almost
exactly her words – if I left Mellie after finding out about the rape."

"That was sixteen years ago, right?" Elliot asked, and Fitz nodded, "It was probably a major inciting
incident, but all the other problems…. This isn't a session for that…Mellie seems to have found a
way of coping, and I'm not her therapist. We're just about done here. I'm going to tell Tom that you're
allowed to carry a gun if you'd like. You're under near constant supervision anyway, and I don't
predict a sharp decline in your mental capacity that we won't be able to see coming. You're coming to
see me 'every day anyway, so if you'd like to carry a firearm, that's up to you."

"Thanks," Fitz said, "I probably won't for a while."

"That's exactly why I'm going to allow it," He said, with a clever smile, and Fitz nodded.

Fitz waited in the next room while Elliot gave Tom a list of things to look for just in case. There was
also, he overheard, the stipulation that he was only to have it during hours that he was supervised
anyway. He felt a little like a child, but he didn't really see any other way that they could give him a
gun in good conscious. They had reason to be concerned about him. If that meant he had to pass off the
gun before he walked into the residence at night, so be it. He sighed as Tom walked him out the back
of Elliot's office into the car that they used to bring him to and from.

"Can we go to the range?" Fitz asked him, and Tom gave him a somewhat worried look, "What we
talked about today…"

"Fine," Tom said, "I'll notify Mr. Beene."

"Thanks," Fitz said.

He was starting to feel it. He could feel it. The bubbling anger that he had felt for months, and the
residual, maddening behavior. He was angry at himself, he wasn't angry at Olivia. He never had been.
That's why when he had looked at her he hadn't been able to keep himself angry, because it wasn't her.
He had known her nature, he knew that she was a flight risk, and that wasn't something that was out of
the ordinary. He was mad at himself for allowing himself to think that there was an actual chance. He
was mad at himself for running again, even though he knew what kind of destructive force the Oval
Office was. If he had never run again, then Gerry would still be running his little anti-President Grant
twitter feed, and being a normal rebellious teenager. If he hadn't tried to run again, he would know if
Olivia was running out of some sort of noble duty, or just because he wasn't what she wanted. The
buck stopped with him, and he had to do better. He had to do better, and he needed better. There was
no difference between running for noble reasons, or running out of cowardice – they were one in the
same, and he was done with it. It was time for him not to take any shit.

"Sir?" Tom said as Fitz looked up from where he was reloading the gun that Tom had ordered him – it
was light, Fitz liked the way it fit in his hand.

"Yeah?" He said, removing the headphones Tom would give him as Tom held up the target.

"That was nearly perfect, Sir," Tom said, putting the hole filled target down so that Fitz could see it,
"You didn't miss once. Right on target. I told Mr. Beene I would have you back in your office in ten
minutes."

"Ok," Fitz put the gun down on the counter.

"Here," Tom said, handing Fitz what looked like a belt.

"What's this?"

"It goes over your shoulder," Tom told him, "It holds the gun against your body, and you won't be able
to tell you have it when your jacket is on. When you're in the office, you can easily take it off and put
it in your desk."

"Thanks," Fitz said, and Tom nodded as he helped him put it on, then handed him his jacket, which he
buttoned up, "I want Olivia Pope banned from the Oval Office."

"Sir?"

"She can get in on appointment only," Fitz said, and Tom nodded, "She can get in anywhere else in the
house she wants. Just not the office, or the residence without my knowledge that she's coming, got it?"

"I'll let Lauren and the staff know," Tom replied, and Fitz nodded as they started into the hallway.

"How's that going?" Fitz asked him.

"It's alright," Tom said, and Fitz nodded as they climbed the stairs up to the Oval.

"Sir," Cyrus said, barging into the office not ten seconds after he had sat down.
"Yeah, Cy?" He looked up.

"There's someone from the party here to see you," Cyrus said, and Fitz looked at his schedule, "It's not
in the schedule, but it's Alexandra Wyman. I thought you might want to actually be the one to talk to
her."

"Alexandra Wyman?" Fitz raised his eye brows in surprise, not sure he had heard right, "We usually
get staffers what're they doing sending the big wigs over here?"

"I don't know," Cyrus said, "But she requested an audience with you."

"Send her in," Fitz got up and walked around the desk, and Cyrus waved through the door at Lauren as
he went to stand next to Fitz.

Fitz had never actually met Alexandra. She had been appointed after his first election, and with the
craziness that was both of their schedules, there had been no time for a face to face meeting with her
since. He knew her on reputation alone, and it was a good one. From what he understood she was a
political powerhouse, and people were gunning for her to run in the next election. He took a breath as
he entered. She was much shorter and much blonder than he had imagined – or maybe all the debate
reels had her hair up. She had blue eyes like drills, and a stance that was somehow intimidating, even
from a short girl they might've pulled off a beach. She gave them a slight smile, and offered each of
them her hand in turn.

"Hello," She said it as if it were a chore to be there, and Fitz nodded as he shook her hand.

"Welcome," Fitz said, gesturing over to the couches.

"Oh good," She said, walking over and taking her heels off without even a thought, stretching her toes.

He was half expecting Cyrus to laugh, but was thankful when he didn't as they sat across from her. She
stashed her shoes underneath the couch, and then looked across at them. She pulled out several stacks
of paper from a brief case, and handed one to each of them.

"Mr. President, I'm here to talk to you about reestablishing the party," She said, not giving either of
them time to even look down at the packets, "It's no secret that people are ready to run around with
half this country's Republican leaders' heads on spikes. Yourself included. So, we have devised a
plan with steps even you could follow without an issue. We're asking that you follow them so that we
have at least a shot in the next presidential election."

"Which of course will be yours," Cyrus said, and Alexandra looked at him.

"I haven't announced anything yet," She shot back, like a true politician, and Fitz smirked, "The point
is that we need to reestablish our perception, because as we all know perception is everything. And if
the party wants this house to stay in our possession, we're going to need to change. And that's
something that I'm definitely on board for. Are you, Mr. President?"

A/N: Soooo leave me a note if you so wish :) hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
 9. Chapter 9
The King Stands Alone

Chapter Nine

"I don't get it," Fitz said, as he walked over and sat down in the seat that Tom usually occupied.

He had just gotten back from Elliot's and with an hour before his day officially started, Tom whisked
him down to the shooting range. However, today they were working almost specifically so that he
could pull it out of its holster, and be ready to shoot in thirty seconds. He got it down to about forty,
and couldn't see himself working any quicker than that. Tom seemed adamant about the time limit,
which just made Fitz wonder why it was that Tom was so keen to get him ready for. He didn't exactly
get it. When the hell was he ever going to need to pull out a gun and shoot someone, accurately, in
thirty seconds? If he was accurate enough, wouldn't he have time to get a second shot in? It wasn't
exactly like everyone knew he was going to be packing. Just himself, Tom, and Elliot knew that the
gun would be on him.

"Sir," Tom said as he walked over to where he was sitting.

"I'm not the one going to be shooting people, anyway."

"Sir, the Secret Service has failed before, and recently," Tom said solemnly.

"Tom, for the last time, I don't blame you for that," Fitz said, getting up as Tom offered him a hand.

"I blame me," Tom told him, then Fitz watched as he took an extra breath, "Listen, I just want you
ready to protect yourself if and when the time comes, that's all."

"But I have how many agents?" Fitz asked, and Tom nodded, "What are the odds that I'm actually
going to need to use this thing? I understand having it just in case, but being ready to shoot someone in
thirty seconds…?"

"If someone's coming at you, they've already decided that they're going to die doing it," Tom told him,
and Fitz nodded, "So anyone who's going to decide to come after you isn't going to go after it half-
assed. They're going to do whatever it takes to get by security, and to get by anyone that might stand in
their way. I don't want you to hesitate. If you can identify a shooter, and know in your bones that this
person is going to kill you – I want you to shoot him. I don't want you to think he might be touched in
the head, or be surprised at who it might be – I want you to shoot. I want you to defend yourself, and
keep yourself safe if need be. You being armed protects everyone else who might be in that room.
Teddy, Karen, Miss Pope, The First Lady, senators, and strangers."

"Alright," Fitz said, walking over and back to where Tom had him standing.

"Go," Tom said from against the wall.

Fitz threw his hand under the side of his jacket, and barely flipped the fastener on the holster as he
brought it out. He clicked over the safety on the barrel, and shot at the target. Shooting on a time limit
was a lot different than standing back behind the dividers, taking his time, and aiming at the paper. It
was almost like he had never been able to shoot it accurately at all, and as he brought his gun down
Tom walked over to the target. He ripped the paper down, and looked it over. Bullet holes in it were
much closer than they had been the first couple of times, but Tom took a breath.

"You see this?" Tom asked, pointing to the bullet that had gone into the side of the paper person's
forehead.

"Yes?" Fitz asked.

"A moving person, this would barely be a sideswipe," Tom told him, "A cut on the side of their head.
With all these bullet wounds this person would have to bleed out for about ten minutes before they
were dead. That's not enough time to get them to any sort of help, and they'll die on the route. That's
not even enough time to get the stretcher down to your ambulance, which I assure you we would not
use for them. And in that time, they would be able to move, be able to scream. They wouldn't be able
to get a fair shot on you, and you'd be safe, but knowing you, you wouldn't sleep right. Maybe never
again. This is why I'm trying to teach you how to do it efficiently. The places I had you shooting
before – they kill instantly, or at least before they hit the floor. The time limit, that's your adrenaline.
In the situation, that's how fast you would probably react, I want you ready."

Fitz nodded, understanding why Tom was so insistent now, and tried for a few more minutes before it
was time for him to go up to the Oval for a meeting with Cyrus. He thought for a moment to ask Tom
how he had acquired all the knowledge that he was using to train him, but thought better of it. Tom
was helping him, if previously he was black ops or a rodeo clown – it didn't matter. He was part of
the secret service, and he was trying all the things that he could think of to keep him safe. That was the
job. He gave Tom a little nod as he stopped outside of the Oval Office, and Fitz went inside and sat
behind his desk, looking his schedule for the rest of the day over.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cyrus asked, grumbling as he barged into the office about five minutes
later.

"What?"

"Blocking Liv from the Oval?" Cyrus asked, "Are you serious? I just got a call from her requesting a
meeting with you this afternoon. Do you really want all her visits to be logged?"

"First of all, I didn't 'block' anyone from anywhere," Fitz replied, "I made it so that she had to get an
appointment to show up in the Oval Office. Do you know how many people have unrestricted access
to this office like she did? Less than five: Me, Tom, hell – even you have some restrictions. She still
has unrestricted access to the entire White House, minus the Oval Office and The Residence. If she
really needs to, she can come in and sit in your office, and have Lauren call me in an emergency. I just
stopped her from coming and going without me knowing what I was walking into. I accept her meeting
for this afternoon, I'm always going to accept. I just need a damn warning when she's coming, even if
it's only ten minutes. As for her visits being logged, I'm sure we can figure out a way around that."
"This is ridiculous."

"I agree," Fitz replied, "She ruins my whole day when she shows up and I haven't had time to prepare
myself. It hurts, Cy. I've been in therapy. Therapy. For God knows how long, and all the work I've
done that day is ruined, and she continues to come and go as she pleases. And before you get on my
case – I'm not punishing her. It's self-preservation, if anything."

"Fine," Cyrus said, "You have a meeting with her this evening."

"Thank you," Fitz replied, and Cyrus nodded, "What time?"

"Eight, tonight," Cyrus said, taking a deep breath, "I'll file her under the same category that we used to
use for Ballard, I guess."

"Fine," Fitz nodded, "Anything else?"

"Here's a copy of the overnight notes," He said, setting them on the desk, "And we have a military
briefing in twenty minutes."

"Thanks," Fitz said, "Did Olivia say why she wanted the meeting?"

"I don't know, Sir," Cyrus said, and Fitz nodded, "She sounded upset. But not 'My boyfriend, or non-
boyfriend just blocked me from his office' upset. More like overwhelmed about something."

Probably something to do with Harrison. Business. Good. The more he knew about what she wanted
to talk about, the better he could prepare himself for her. He had told Elliot that morning of her new
restrictions, and Elliot had thought that it was a healthy step. To ease him into the idea of seeing her
often again, but warned that he should only keep it as long as he needed to. In order to keep growing
then he should challenge himself, and if Olivia was the challenge, then so be it. He sat in his meetings
that day repeating things that Elliot had told him to remember, and few things he added in himself
before it was time. Things like 'keep it as business as possible', 'if you feel yourself starting to get
angry, don't speak until you can figure out how to be civil', 'it hurts, and it's better to sound hurt than to
sound angry', and 'For God's sakes just keep your mouth shut if you can'. 'Her being upset with
something you said is worse in the long run than just keeping whatever it is to yourself. You have
enough upsetting images of her to last a lifetime already'.

"You ok, Sir?" Cyrus asked as they were walking back towards the Oval that evening.

"I'm ok," Fitz said, checking his watch as they passed Lauren with a little wave, and headed inside,
"For the next twenty minutes."

"You're not ok," Cyrus told him, "You've been ticking all day."

"I haven't heard that in a while," Fitz replied, and Cyrus nodded as he sat down on the couch.

"Maybe – this isn't such a good idea," He said, as Fitz settled himself behind the desk, "I can call her,
tell her you got held up in a meeting…"
"If she wants to see me, she can see me," Fitz said, stashing any briefings that had ended up on his
desk over the course of the day into his desk drawer.

"Sir," Cyrus said, and Fitz raised his eyebrows, "This can't be… Did Elliot … "

"Serenity, Cy," Fitz said, and Cyrus furrowed his brow, "' God grant me the serenity to accept the
things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference'."

"I'm aware of the prayer," Cyrus said, nodding – clearly still lost, "Does Elliot also have you going to
AA meetings now? Because I don't care how anonymous it is – the president going to meetings is
going to make the front page…"

"I can't stop Olivia from coming and going as she pleases. She's going to do that as long as she wants,
whether she knows what she's doing or not," Fitz said, "But I can change how she affects me when she
does it. I have the power to stop her from coming to the Oval unannounced, and I can take the time to
prepare myself mentally to see her without screaming. I can remind myself of what the picture is, and
I can – at least attempt – to keep myself from getting involved with her again."

"Olivia Anonymous."

"You could call it that."

"Why didn't we send you to Elliot years ago?" Cyrus asked, and Fitz shook his head.

"It doesn't work like that. Even if he were a genie he couldn't make me fall in or out of love with
anyone," Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded, "He's just trying to help me keep a level head, and keep the big
picture in mind."

"Welcome to the Dark Side, Mr. President," Cyrus got up from his seat and headed towards the door,
"We cynics, we have cake down in the kitchens on Friday evenings. I'll see you there?"

He backed out of the Oval, and Fitz took a deep breath, maybe Cyrus was right. Fitz looked across the
room at George Washington, hanging on the wall. Maybe being a cynic did make being the President
easier. Maybe he had been making a fatal issue where it didn't need to be. He couldn't think of a
single President in the history of who had outright married for love. Washington, Lincoln, presumably
Kennedy and probably FDR didn't marry for love. He was sure the list must be longer. He could count
the ones he knew were for love on one hand: Jefferson and his first wife, Adams who was apparently
lucky enough to get Abigail. But who knew, really.

"Sir," Lauren popped her head into his office, "Miss Pope here to see you."

"Send her in," Fitz told her, and within seconds Olivia was walking through the door, shutting it
behind her.

"Hi," She said, and Fitz nodded.

"Hi," He said, with a weak smile, motioning for her to take a seat on the couch as he walked around
to sit across from her, "What's up?"

"I have to make an appointment?" She asked, unassumingly, and he nodded, "Don't worry – it was
about time my privileges were at least a little restricted. I haven't worked here in almost four years,
officially. If anyone ever found out…"

"What're you doing here, Liv?" Fitz asked somewhat solemnly, wishing like hell he had asked for the
Scotch to be replaced – glancing over to where it used to be, "Did you find something about Harrison
I should know about?"

"Yeah," She said, creasing her lips slowly, and Fitz furrowed his brow, "Listen, I'm sorry for running
off like I did. It was childish, and I should have at least let you know…"

"I found out just fine," Fitz said, and Olivia nodded.

"Right," She said, swallowing, "Well, the team and I – we've been – "

"Olivia, relax," He said, leaning back against the couch, "I'm not going to yell at you again, I promise.
I'm sorry I did that. You didn't deserve it."

However much he thought she had at the time. Anger was a funny thing.

"Just tell me what happened," He continued, after a pause.

"Well –," She said, looking around at the cameras, "We should move somewhere else."

"Okay," Fitz said slowly, getting up as she did, "Where to?"

"The private office," She replied, and Fitz nodded.

"Sure," Fitz led her through the door into the office, where she seemed to be looking around more than
she would usually, flicking on all the lights, "Olivia – what's going on?"

"You should sit down," Olivia said, and he went over and sat on the couch as she leaned against his
desk – arms crossed, "It was my father. He killed Harrison, and he killed Adnan Salif. Which means,
that he probably killed Jerry, too. It wasn't my mother, it was him. He killed your son."

"What?" Fitz could barely hear his own voice.

"Which means, I think he's still planning something," Olivia said, and Fitz nodded, "It means – we
have to kill him. He can't – "

"Agreed," Fitz said, and Olivia sighed, "Why're we in here, though?"

"Because he has tapes," She said, "He has tapes of the Oval Office, of the hallways. He – I think he's
tapped the feed, and-"
"There's no cameras in here," Fitz finished for her, and she nodded, "Right. So that means we're
working together."

"It does," She said, and Fitz nodded slightly – but she took a deep breath, "But I need to tell you some
things – before this all starts."

"What's that?" Fitz asked, his mind spinning slightly.

"I didn't run away alone."

"You ran away with Jake."

"How did you – "

"You really thought I didn't?" Fitz asked, trying to keep his voice even, "You've made your choice, and
that's fine. I asked, you rejected. He asked – it's fine, Olivia. I was an idiot to think – "

"It wasn't like that," She replied, and Fitz sighed.

"I don't need to know what it was like," Fitz replied simply, careful still to keep his voice the same.

"Fitz, he didn't ask," Olivia said, and she grimaced, "I was going to go by myself. He asked if he
could come. He said he wanted to start over, too."

"I'm glad you gave someone the option," It came out a little smarter than he'd have liked, so he
softened it with a small smile, "Bring him with you next time, we're going to need him. Bring your
whole team, if we're going to take him out – not the entirety of B613 we're going to need their help."

"Ok," Olivia said, taking a breath.

"I'll recruit Cyrus," He told her, "See if he can use his spare time to dig up what he can. I'm sure he'll
want to help where he can. I'll keep him out of the meetings so Jake'll be fine coming."

"Right," Olivia said, and Fitz got up to go, "Fitz.."

"Was there something else you wanted to discuss?" Fitz asked, turning, his hand already on the door
handle.

"No," She said slowly, but he knew she did.

He wanted to ask, but at the same time he didn't.

"Alright, then."

"Jake and I – we're not – "

"I didn't ask, Liv," Fitz said, trying to sound as peaceful about it as he could, trying not to let any hope
rise, "We'll get him, for Jerry, for James, and for Harrison. Ok?"

"Ok."

A/N: And there's a Fitz holding his Livy at arm's length. Some of your were concerned, but Olitz is
and always will be my endgame in stories. However, how they get there is completely a different
story, and right now it's going to be a long road. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter - and
don't be afraid to leave me a note :)
 10. Chapter 10
A/N: Alright lovelies, I'm sorry it's been so long since an update (So long that I actually had to reread
and rediscover this story a little bit) My life has been a little bit crazy, and it's settling down now so
hopefully I'll be able to write again on the regular basis soon. I'm not going to start any new stories
until all the rest of my open ones are done – no matter how tempting it might be – so, most
importantly, Enjoy :)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Ten

Fitz was, for once, fully certain of why he was somewhere outside of his office and almost certain of
why he felt so uncomfortable. He was a rally for the Republican party, Alex's idea, trying to rally
back into a small amount of their grassroots principles. There was a few hundred people in banquet
hall while Fitz and some of the other leaders of the party were mixing and mingling with the few
hundred people of the general public. He was trying to remember just why he had agreed to go, as
they had plenty of representation, when he saw Alex standing over on the other side of the room.
There was something strange about her, something that he just couldn't manage to put his finger on it -
except she might just be the most perfect, honest woman he had ever met.

"Hanging in there ok, Mr. President?" Alex asked as she made her way over to the buffet table.

"I was just trying to figure out how you tricked me into coming here," He replied, and she smiled.

"Feminine wiles?" Alex teased, "From what I hear you can be quite susceptible to those."

"That is the rumor," He smiled casually as he sipped his punch.

"That's not really the latest though," She said as he swallowed, "How are you doing? Since…
everything that happened."

"Better," He replied, taking a deep breath, "I'm significantly better than I was doing immediately after.
Thanks for your concern."

"And Mrs. Grant?"

"She handled the whole thing a lot better than me," He said, trying not to sound bitter – but Mellie had
barely blinked, she liked to pretend that it just never happened – that their son was simply back off at
school, "I apologize, but I know almost nothing about you."

"Well, that makes sense as you've had your head up your ass for the last five years at least," Alex told
him casually, not at all intimidated by him, "But you should probably know most of the White House
staff that work for you…"
"Especially when technically, I think I'm supposed to be working for you," He said playfully, she
rolled her eyes, but the smile didn't leave her face, "I think things are pretty much wrapping up here,
why don't you join me for lunch?"

"Do you have lunch with all of the White House staff?"

"I have lunch with Cyrus all the time," He said, smirking, as he gestured over to where Cyrus was
undoubtedly being bored as if it were his eternal punishment by a man about three times as large as
his frame was meant to support, "You can ask him, if you want…"

"I shouldn't interrupt," She chuckled, and Fitz nodded, "But it would be pretty hard to turn down a
invite to lunch at the White House. Will the first lady be joining us?"

"Ah, no," Fitz said, shifting a little uncomfortably, "She's in – Texas? I think the rest of the week."

Alex was about to open up her mouth to continue their banter when she stopped mid opening her
mouth. She was looking behind him, and so he took the cue to look around his shoulder. Tom was
standing there with his 'Liv Phone' at the ready, covering the mouth piece which meant that Liv was
already on the line. He turned back to Alex with a genuinely apologetic look. Liv calling meant that
she had found somewhere where they could meet up and start their plans without her father
overhearing. Which meant it might be time sensitive, and important. Well, just the fact that she was
calling him meant it was something that was important to him.

"I'm sorry," He told Alex, "I have to go. How about a raincheck for lunch?"

"Sure."

"Great," He said, turning as he took the cell phone from Tom and headed towards the exit.

"Fitz?" Olivia spoke only once Fitz was sliding into his town car and Tom had got behind the driver's
seat.

"Sorry, I didn't want to talk until I was alone," He told her, "What's going on?"

"We found a place, it's secure, and it's hidden enough that you can get here without causing too much
suspicion," Olivia's voice hit his ear like something out of a fantasy, and he shoved it out of his head,
if he was going to work with her, he had to shut it off.

"Where is it?"

"Huck is projecting a temporary map into Tom's phone."

"Ten minutes," Tom announced over his shoulder.

"Thanks."

It took him a minute to realize that he and Olivia had both said it at the same time. He hung up, and
watching out the windows at the mixture of legislators and tourists as they rushed around the streets. It
was still broad daylight as they drove, night would fall soon, but it wouldn't before they got to where
the map ended. He watched as they headed out towards the countryside, driving out past where the
stables his horses were living in. He was assured that they were there, happy and healthy. He hadn't
seen them in about six years, since he had begun his run for the presidency. Tom pulled into an empty
driveway about a quarter of a mile after the driveway that led to the ranch.

"Where – " He started, then saw Jake standing on the side, "Jake."

Fitz climbed out of the back seat, as Tom parked the car.

"Mr. President," Jake said, taking a deep breath, "God, I think you don't want to see me way more than
I didn't want to see you…"

"Pretty safe bet. Where is she?"

"It's funny. No matter how many times she calls, you're always going to show up, aren't you?"

"Cut the shit. Where is she?"

"Huck's waiting around the corner for you," Jake said, "I just want to take a little walk with Tom
before we bring him in."

"Ok," Fitz said as he headed over in the direction Jake insinuated.

"Alexandra Wyman," Jake said, and Fitz froze, "Nice choice. Exactly our type. Don't worry – I didn't
tell Liv yet. I'll let you do it."

Fitz thought for a full minute about turning around, and trying his odds at beating the shit out of Jake.
He didn't like his odds, it'd been at least seven years since he'd had a proper work out without the
secret service following his every move. Jake on the other hand, had who knows what kind of training
from B613 that he simply could not compete with. So instead, he took another deep breath, and tried
to remember what Elliot had been teaching him about keeping his feelings in check. He wasn't sure
why, logically, it would bother him if Olivia knew that he had spoken with Alex. Nothing had
happened. But at the same time, he knew exactly why he didn't want Olivia to know that he was
interested in someone else. And even that explanation made no sense, what did Olivia care? She was
the one who ran out on him, right?

"Hey, Mr. President," Huck appeared presumably from where he had been hiding behind a tree.

"Huck," He nodded as Huck started leading him down a path through the woods.

He was about to ask, even though he knew better, where they were going when Huck stopped outside
what looked like an old abandoned little shack. Huck then knocked twice on the door before Quinn
opened up, and let both of them inside. Inside looked about exactly as Fitz would have guessed, like a
cabin that had been abandoned some time ago. Except for the fact that there were about eight screens
lining the opposite wall of the one room cabin, and one desktop computer hooked up to them in the
corner. Olivia was sitting on a couch, watching one of the monitors while Abby sat at what he
assumed was also once a kitchen table. She didn't look pleased to be there, Fitz assumed because she
probably thought she had gotten out, she was working as the press secretary now.

"Abby," He said in acceptance, and she exchanged looks with her.

"Fitz, good," Olivia said, getting up off the couch and walking around to where everyone was now
standing, Huck slammed the door shut behind them, "It's not Vermont, but it'll do. No one knows we're
out here, and it'll be easier to run things from out here. If anyone asks, you were checking in on your
horses."

"Ok," Fitz said, "What about Tom and Jake?"

"Jake just wanted to clear a few things with Tom before bringing him here," Huck said, "We just have
to be sure we trust him."

"Trust Tom?"

"We have to question everyone, Fitz," Olivia replied, "Jake was insistent on checking Tom out a little
further before letting him in on it."

"Well, if your boyfriend insists…"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Makes two of us."

"Ok…" Abby said, directing everyone's attention back at the monitors on the wall, "So basically so
far we've been tracking Rowan. He has his routine, and we're looking for anything that can paint B613
in a negative light. Which isn't hard to do, based on their usual habits. Anything from assassinations to
bombings. It'll be the easiest way to convince the public that he's bad, and then there'll be nowhere for
him to hide."

"We're back to exposing B613?" Fitz asked, and Olivia shook her head, somewhat sadly.

"No, that will do absolutely no good for anyone," Olivia replied, "We have to make it seem like we're
going to expose them – and that's where you come in. You're going to come up with a bill. A law very
much like the freedom of information act, only to declassify documents from recent black ops
missions. It's going to scare them shitless, and make them scramble. You shop it around for a while to
draw them out, and keep them spinning. It won't let them hide. Then, we can deal with my father
specifically."

"He'll be fighting a war on two fronts," Fitz said, looking over some plans that Abby handed him, and
Olivia nodded.

"Three, if we can manage it," She replied, "Jake's looking to find more rogue agents."
"Sir," Tom nodded over to him as he and Jake walked into the small room.

"I know," He replied, looking to his watch, "I have an appointment. I'm in, though."

"This is going to bring a lot of attention," Olivia said, "It'll be dangerous for you. We just want to
make sure you know what you're signing up for."

"I'm the president of the United States. People want to shoot me just for walking out my door in the
morning," Fitz reminded them, "This man killed my son. I'll do whatever it takes. I trust you, don't
worry about me. I can take care of myself."

"Ok," Jake said, cutting Olivia off, "I'll walk you two out. The path's a little hidden."

Fitz wasn't about to admit that he hadn't been paying much attention to the way Huck had brought him
in, and he definitely wasn't about to admit that he had to leave because he was going to be late to a
meeting with Elliot. Elliot could wait, it wouldn't be that big a deal or the first time that he was late,
but he wasn't sure how much longer he could have stood in that room acting like he wasn't in love
with Olivia. It was hard now, but he knew that as time went on it would be easier to ignore his
feelings for her. He knew that they wouldn't ever go away fully, but he was headed in the right
direction. His endurance would go up the longer he kept up the act, and then eventually maybe it
wouldn't feel like he was acting anymore. But that didn't stop him from nearly falling apart as soon as
he fell into the backseat, exhaling all the air he had been holding almost since he walked into the
cabin.

"Ok, sir?" Tom asked him, and Fitz felt for the gun tucked under his jacket.

"Yes," Fitz sighed, then looked up into the front seat, "I want to go to the range tonight. If I'm going to
put a target on my back, I want to be as ready as I can be."

"Of course, Sir," Tom replied, but it was hard to miss the little smirk on his guard's face.

Elliot's office had changed slightly since his last visit. The couch was now somehow much more
inviting, but Fitz wasn't sure if that was because of the new Feng Shui, or because he was used to
being there at this point. He sat down and waited, Elliot had had to pick his kids up at soccer due to a
scheduling conflict and was running late himself. He had called Tom while they drove over, in case
he ran late, but was only in actuality five minutes late when he rushed in.

"Sorry, Fitz," Elliot said, as he went to sit behind his desk and Fitz shrugged, "So how was today?"

"It was, interesting," Fitz said.

"Interesting means Olivia," Elliot deduced, "What happened?"

"We're working together on a project," Fitz replied.

"Ok, so how'd that go."

"Good. While I was there," Fitz said, and Elliot nodded, "But ah – the other guy was there too."

"And?"

"He tried to provoke me a little bit."

"And?"

"I kept myself in check, except for a few comments I wish I hadn't made to Liv."

"Well, that's progress, right?" Elliot asked, "No yelling? You kept yourself –"

"I did," Fitz replied.

"Ok, so where did we leave off?"

Fitz spent the next forty-five minutes of his session talking with Elliot about Olivia, and the
relationship that they had had in the last couple of years. He told him about the house he built for her
in Vermont, all the dreams he had of them, and all the bullshit that had happened since then. For some
reason, it made him feel better to talk about it, even the betrayal of her constantly teaming up with
Mellie and Cyrus. He assumed that this was the whole premise of talk therapy to begin with. Tom had
him back at the White House by about nine thirty, and they spent a few hours down at the range before
Fitz went up to the Oval to make sure that everything was all set for the next day.

"You're a hard man to track down," Alexandra said from across the room as Fitz got up from his desk.

"Oh, hey," Fitz said somewhat awkwardly as he walked around his desk, "Sorry about earlier. I- "

"You're a busy guy," Alex said accepting, pulling a bag of what looked like burgers from behind her
back, "I brought dinner. Well, I picked dinner up from the White House kitchen for us. I assume you
haven't eaten."

"Not since that stupid buffet," He replied, smiling as he sat with her on the couch and she unpacked,
"Next time you make me go to something, can you at least make sure there's real food?"

"I'm making up for it now, aren't I?" She asked, handing him a burger and he chuckled.

"A burger?"

"Mr. President, you have been far too spoiled for far too long."

"Fitz," He said, as she handed him a beer, and he very casually set it down by the leg of the couch
where it was out of sight before pouring himself a glass of water, "Friends who bring me burgers call
me Fitz."

"Well, since I'm a friend," She said, "Is it ok for me to tell you that you look like shit? Like way worse
than you did earlier, and way worse than your average 'being the President sucks, so obviously I look
like shit all the time'. Though, usually you pull it of pretty well."

"Thank you?"

"You could take it that way," Alex said calmly, and Fitz chuckled, "So what happened? If you can tell
me?"

"Well, I got called to a meeting with someone who's – draining," He said, stopping for a breath, "It
drains just about all of my energy."

"That sucks," Alex replied, and Fitz nodded.

"How about you?" He asked, biting into his burger.

She then dove into a somewhat vague account of her day while Fitz tried desperately to stop thinking
about Olivia. Did she think he didn't care anymore? And if she did, wasn't that the goal? Would she go
back to Jake? Didn't he want her to find happiness? What even was 'Happy'? Was it just something
that Walt Disney tried to sell to too many people, using his just as made up characters who had a nice
little song and dance? Disney knew the truth, didn't he? That's why he created a whole separate
world, where happiness could exist. And then there was Alex, sitting in front of him eating a burger
without even a thought about B613, or the schemes of dragons like Cyrus. She was playing in a whole
different arena than him, and he might just like hers better. So he pushed Olivia out of his brain, could
he convince himself that she as a person was just as fake as the fantasies he had of Vermont with her?
He could try, because at that point, if he could get there, she wouldn't be able to hurt him anymore.

"I should go, it's getting pretty late," Alex said, and Fitz nodded, "Even for you I'm guessing…"

"I don't get much sleep nowadays. I miss being governor, honestly," He replied, as he went to walk
her out, "Here, I'll walk you out. There's a passage back this way that brings you out to the backlot."

"Right where I parked."

"Right where everyone parks," Fitz said as Tom shadowed a few feet behind them.

There was only so far that Fitz could go. The White House was already on lock down for the night,
only approved people were allowed to come and go, and he certainly wasn't authorized to leave. He
stopped at the bottom of the landing, Tom somewhere above them on the staircase. There were about
three more steps, who were painted red to show they were within vision of the open door.

"This is where you stop," Alex spotted the steps at the bottom, and Fitz nodded.

"Sorry," He said, and she smiled.

"It's not a problem," She said, "There's no reason for you to be shot, just to walk me to my car."

"Thank you," Fitz said, smirking slightly.

His brain as fried as it was, he didn't register that she had gone up on her tiptoes and was leaning in.
He didn't even register anything until she had leaned all the way in, and had her lips to his. He froze,
shocked for a second before leaning into it. Easy, free. A free kiss from a beautiful, normal, happy
woman on the staircase. He pressed her back against the cement wall behind them and taking over
from her as he worked his lips from hers over and down her neck.

"I should go," She said again, and he backed off – like she had thrown water over his head.

"Oh, right," He said somewhat dopily as she stayed against the wall, "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," She smiled, giving him a knowing look before kissing his cheek and heading out the door.
 11. Chapter 11
A/N: All I can say is, keep on reading my friends. Enjoy :)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Eleven

Fitz thought even at their worst, sessions with Elliot were better than the 'meeting' he was in now. The
private contract lawyer he had had Cyrus find him was duller than spoon, but Fitz understood why
Cyrus had chosen him. This man took himself far too seriously to even allow for the possibility of
their business being leaked. And when you were a sitting president trying to draw out divorce papers
to serve the first lady. He had discussed it with Elliot, who had told him that it was the next logical
step, for normal people, for them to get divorced. He didn't think it was possible, until he slept on it
for a little while. He would have the papers drawn up, be legally divorced, but the public did not
need to know until almost the end of his term. He was now into his second anyway, what were they
going to do? Mellie would want it as secret as possible, and she would put up a stink, but she would
be negotiated, and then it would be done.

"Sir," Tom ducked his head in, holding out the phone.

"Thanks, Tom," He said, and he shook the lawyer's hand, "I'll talk to you soon."

"Yes, sir," The lawyer replied, and Fitz gave him a little smile as he headed out of the room, taking
the phone from Tom.

"Hey," He said brightly, trying to prepare himself mentally as he headed off down the hall and went to
lean by a window, "What's going on?"

"Careful," Olivia's voice came down the line, "You almost sound happy."

"What is happy?" He replied, and she laughed – God, why the fuck did she have to laugh? "Sounds
alien, actually."

"It's this strange emotion that not everyone is convinced actually exists," Olivia said, making it his
turn to laugh, and he hated how good it felt, "It's completely overrated. Anyway, I was just calling to
make sure that everything was all set for phase one."

She sounded like a spy or something, but Fitz knew what she meant. Phase one was starting chatter
about the bill that he would be fake trying to pass. This would invariably result in a visit from the
King of the mole people himself, which would only further exacerbate his feelings all together. Her
father, like the Jake he trained, never liked to miss a jab at anyone, for any reason. He took a deep
breath, knowing what was coming next, and deciding that it was worth it.

"Yes," He replied.
"It'll be worth it," Olivia said, "For Gerry, for Harrison, for James…"

"For myself," Fitz added, and he could feel himself smile slightly, "Ok, good to go. Cyrus is going to
want to behead me himself, but…"

"Let me deal with him, if he gives you trouble," Olivia told him carefully.

"I'm going to hold you to that," He replied, "Alright, I've got to go."

"Can you meet up tonight? Same place?"

"I have an appointment at six," He said, his mind racing to find a reason why he couldn't, "And they're
not so happy to let me out so much anymore. I can call you though?"

"Alright," She replied, and he hung up as Cyrus appeared at his shoulder to pull him into a meeting
with the secretary of defense.

It was exactly the kind of meeting that he needed to somewhat opportunistically make it seem like this
new bill was an organic idea. If he could trick Cy into thinking it was real bill with a real situation
that he wanted to use it on, he would be able to trick anyone. That was the point, right? He had no
idea who he could trust at the moment, so the goal was to convince anyone and everyone that the idea
was genuine, as awful as it sounded. It might cost him a few popularity points as he made it seem like
he wanted to torpedo a certain portion of the United States and it's history, but it would be worth it.
Because, if all went to plan, it would remove the shadow that seemed to follow all within the country
from power. He would, whether people knew about it or not, be liberating the United States from a
tyrant while also getting vengeance for his son, and for all the people that had been murdered as
byproducts of Rowan's great puppet game.

"Sir, you can't be serious about this," Cyrus said as they returned to the Oval Office hours later, "You
can't do this. You know why you can't do this, there are rules and semblances of order for a reason."

"And I'm changing them," Fitz said, completely serious, "The times are changing, Cy. There's a whole
generation of people who are not only questioning what they are being taught, and the laws that are
governing them, but actively attempting change. Actively attempting to put a stop to the now inferior
ways of doing things that our parents, and even ourselves at some point embraced. It's a great time to
be around, Cy. And it's a great time to try and make our state an even freer one."

"Uhuh," Cyrus said, sitting on the couch watching him like he was about to explode like a party
popper right in front of him, "You wouldn't happen to have – I don't know – been knocked on the head
this morning, have you Mr. President? Because this is a rookie mistake. There's no upside to this bill
that you've now called other people about. And we both know who precisely isn't going to be very
happy about it, and he's not that great a fan of yours to begin with."

"It'll be fine, Cyrus."

"I'm sure that's what Kennedy said to his brother right before that speech about the secret societies,"
Cyrus pointed out, "And that seems to have gotten both of them killed."

"Well then don't stand quite so close to me, Cy."

"I don't think you understand," Cyrus replied, "For whatever reason, people tend to hold me
responsible for some, and by 'some' I mean most of your actions. When they can't get to you, they
come to me. They yell, get upset, and even at times threaten me over whatever bullshit you're trying to
pull. I then very carefully try to explain to these people that you're your own person. Which is a
horrible laugh to everyone, because everyone knows it's always someone who else pulling your
strings. Usually Olivia, because for some reason – well, we all know the reason – she has more
power over you than anyone else."

"It's not for her," Fitz half-lied, "Trust me, Cy. We're doing the right thing, here."

The rest of his day was a whirlwind of meetings, including the welcoming of a new leader to the
country. He was in town because they were honoring him with a dinner the next night. The night, and
he remembered as he was shaking the man's hand that Mellie would be back early, and back in the
residence that night because of the dinner. Her office had organized it for her while she was away,
and Fitz could feel the dread washing into him. As much as the changes he was making were helping
his psyche, there was only so much help that he could get when you considered the mountain of
resolutions he had to go through and deal with. But he had to let himself believe that he was doing
well, so far.

"Hello, Mr. President," Alex said as she walked into a meeting just after lunch.

"Hello, Miss Wyman," He said, forcing a business-like tone.

"You look much better today," She commented as people were still filing into the meeting.

"My day's been almost perfect so far," He told her as he shuffled some of the notes that were to go
along with the presentation.

It took three hours, and by the end of it, Fitz was fairly certain that he had both learned and unlearned
all the information that they were trying to give him a few times. He handed the notes off to an
assistant to be put on his desk so that he could look them over once the day was over, and thanked the
group that had assembled for their time. Time which was running out quickly before he found himself
walking into Elliot's office again. Elliot had been going relatively easy on him for the past couple of
sessions, so he had the feeling that there would be something to tonight's session, even if it was a
dinner session. So he brought his packed dinner and sat on the couch, trying not to envy Elliot and his
perfect little family, with their perfect little problems as he ate his salad.

"So, I was looking over your file last night," Elliot said as he leaned back, his bitten burger on a side
table, "And I think we should talk about your father's death a little bit."

"What about it?"

"Were you already involved with Olivia at that point?"

"Yes, for about four or five months," Fitz replied, trying to remember as best he could in as much
detail.

"Were you already in love with her?"

"I was in love with her from the moment she walked into the damn room," Fitz replied.

"Well, why don't you tell me about that?"

"Ok, well – it was part of the primary. The part of the election where you're running against the
people in your own party, before the general election," Fitz explained, "We were holding a meeting,
and unbeknownst to me, Cyrus had called her in. She walked right in and told me just about
everything that was wrong about the campaign, which was really only one thing. People weren't
buying that Mellie and I were a functioning couple, and therefore didn't like me. Which they were
right about. But she was beautiful, smart, and not afraid of me like just about everyone else around
me. Plus there was just this amazing moment where our eyes just – anyway, I told Cyrus to fire her.
Then when she overheard - we had a moment where she, in possibly the most Olivia thing she's ever
done got up in my face and asked me why I fired her. I didn't answer, but she seemed to understand
that it was more to do with – me, and hopefully her, than the election. So, she was unfired and I tried
like hell for about a month to keep myself in check. There was plenty of stuff to do otherwise, but – I
couldn't do it."

"Was Olivia the first relationship that you had outside your marriage?" Elliot asked, and Fitz nodded.

"Yes," He replied.

"And you were in love?"

"Yes."

"Ok," He said, "Now your father had just left your campaign trail when he passed, right?"

"That'd be a nice way of putting it, but I kicked him off yes."

"How was having him on the trail with you?"

"Pretty awful," Fitz admitted, "He and I never got along, and he had a tendency to be a bully. I had my
campaign set up a certain way, and he was always trying to use his authority to change things. I wasn't
– my best – when he was there. I even went so far as to treat Olivia poorly – mostly out of excess
agitation. He knew all the buttons, and he knew when to push them. Olivia was patient. Olivia
listened to me, and figured out a way to run the campaign I wanted and still win, without the necessity
of my father's help…"

Well, that was a way of putting it. There was still a certain amount of anger in him about the way that
she had worked with everyone else to fix the election. But as he thought about it, and as he thought
about standing with Olivia in the yard, feeling her arms around him as he cried. He knew why she did
it. He knew that, however misguided and stupid the plan had been – that she had genuinely done it for
him. That she felt that he would be a good president, and that he wasn't going to be able to the way he
wanted. He was never meant to find out, and he had stood there, crying in front of her asking to be
President. He had told her that he wanted it, and he thought about the ends he would go to for her. The
things that he would do to make her happy, and realized that stealing a presidency was nothing
compared to other things he would sacrifice for her .There was nothing he wouldn't do, and he loved
her. If she had felt an ounce of the love he had for her towards him and there was a plan to get him
what he wanted already? And all she had to do was say yes? He understood that, way more than he
probably ever wanted to.

"So Olivia was your rock? Throughout this period of time?"

"Yes," Fitz said, "And for a great while after – until he left."

"Why did she leave?"

"The first time? I don't know," Fitz replied, "She resigned, left a letter on my desk in the middle of the
night and was gone. I didn't see her again until Cyrus and James' wedding. And then I didn't see her
after that for – years."

"And you'd say your relationship was a happy one until then?"

"Happy as possible," Fitz said, remembering having to bring Mellie to Olivia's cabin at Camp David,
and how much he wished he hadn't tried to call her bluff. How much he wished he had told Mellie off,
she already knew anyway, that's when he should have put an end to them, "We had our problems,
pretty massive ones, but – we were ok, or so I thought."

By then their session, only a half hour for the evening, was over and Fitz was tossing the box from his
salad into the trash. Elliot patted him on the back, leaving the building just before he did, and Fitz
could feel his brain still going from what he had realized in the session. He very obviously couldn't
tell Elliot about them rigging the election, but he could skate around bits and fill in the bits and pieces
in his own brain. He wasn't a moron, he could do the basics of analyzing himself. He took a break and
forced himself to watch the passing city lights though, as the car drove back to the White House.

"To the range, Sir?" Tom asked as they climbed out of the car, just underneath the White House, and
were headed towards the steps up to the West Wing.

"No thank-you, Tom," Fitz said as they entered into the hall just outside the press room, "I have to go
over the notes from one of the meetings today. It was a little confusing, I just want to make sure I've
got it down before tomorrow."

"Ok," Tom accepted as he opened the door to the Oval for him, "Have a good night, Sir."

"Are you off now?" Fitz asked, and Tom nodded as he handed him the 'Liv Phone', "Well, have a good
night."
He spent about twenty minutes trying to flush out all the talk from the meeting before he started
actually reading the notes. He was much better at focusing in on facts once he got stuck with
something, so by the time he read through all the notes he understood what was going on, and most of
the comments that had been made during the meeting. Sometimes a quiet place with less distractions
was all he needed.

"You work way too much," A soft voice came from over by the door way, and Fitz put his notes away
just in time to see Alex slipping in the door.

"And I have possibly the worst job on the planet," Fitz had long since started agreeing with the
majority of the American public, "What're you still doing here?"

"Same as you, just finished up," She said as he walked around the desk, and she kissed him briefly,
still catching him slightly off guard, "Do you have time to talk now, or-?"

Fitz looked at his watch. It was almost midnight, he had an early morning, and he had promised to call
Olivia.

"I don't, actually," Fitz told her, and she nodded.

"Ok, so should I schedule an appointment, or something?"

"Maybe the end of the week?" He asked, scratching his head, "I'm really sort of swamped …."

"When are you not swamped?"

"Good point," He replied, taking a deep breath, "How about tomorrow night? Private Office, we can
talk about anything you want."

"Ok," She said, and he nodded as he led the way out of the room.

His hand in his pocket and almost already dialing Olivia as he walked through the west wing on the
way to the residence. It would have been easy to do in his pocket because there was only one number
programed into the phone, but he held back. He waited to call her until he had made himself a
sandwich from the kitchen, and gone to sit in the living room. The residence was completely empty.
Mellie had brought Teddy and the nanny with her to Texas, and Karen was obviously back at school.
So when he dialed Olivia's number, there was an interesting level of safety to it that had never been
there before.

"I almost thought you weren't going to call," She answered, and Fitz smirked slightly.

"When have I ever not called?" He retorted, "Even when I hate you, I still call."

"And your poor staff…"

"I'm in the residence. Mellie's in Texas, and… anyway, residence. Happy? Staffers could go home
hours ago. I made sure."
"Good," Olivia said indignantly, "How'd it go today?"

"The word's out there," He replied, "I think Cyrus is going to have an aneurysm before this is all over,
though."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," Olivia assured him, she was good at that, "He always seems a little bit
more at ease when he finds out that I'm on board."

"I don't know that that will help this time," Fitz tried explaining to her, "You're not very high on his
list right now, I don't think."

"I don't think I'm really all that high on anyone over there's right now," Olivia said, and Fitz didn't
argue, "Huck and Jake are almost done with their observation work, or so they tell me. They should
be able to start moving towards actually making something happen soon, they said maybe another
week."

"That's good," Fitz said, "But it'll be a while before I have any sort of bill together."

"I don't mind playing the long game on this one," Olivia told him, "As long as it's going to be over.
Finally."

"I agree," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "So, I was thinking about it today, and I'm sorry. I really
didn't – anyway, what you did – during the election – I just wanted to tell you that I get it. I
understand, and it was incredibly wrong, but I understand. I'm sorry I was such an asshole about it."

Silence.

"Olivia?"

"I'm still here," She said, more quietly than he was used to, "But I should go. I'll be in contact."

"Bye, Liv."
 12. Chapter 12
A/N: Hey guys, here's the next chapter, enjoy :)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Twelve

"What the fucking hell did you do?!" Mellie was screaming, and things being thrown around the
bedroom.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on as a pillow from one of the
corner chairs hit him square in the face. He brought his hand up to remove it, then realized the
uselessness of it as another hit him in the forehead. Mellie was now shrieking at a pitch he wasn't sure
was entirely meant for humans, and wondered vaguely if the neighborhood dogs were assembling in
order to attack. He thought about a pack of border collies and preparing themselves at the gates
thinking some sort of animal or person was injured beyond the gates. However, mostly, her shrieking
and screaming was just hurting his ears. He let the second pillow fall before he got out of bed, and
ran a hand back through his hair.

"What the hell is the problem?" He asked, irritated enough to yell back at her.

"You, you are my fucking problem, Fitz," She continued to scream, though thankfully coherently now,
"You met with a fucking lawyer yesterday?"

"You met with Hal early this morning, I hear," Fitz said, slightly annoyed.

"Oh, don't play cute," She replied, "Or dumb. You are a lot of things, Fitzgerald, but dumb is not one
of them. Horny, emotional, irrational all yes, but stupid and dumb are not among them. There's only
one reason you would consult a private lawyer, and she just got back to town about a week ago."

"Oh, God," Fitz said, letting his shoulders drop, and staring up at the ceiling for a second before
shooting an icy glare back at her, "My meeting with the lawyer had absolutely nothing to do with
Olivia. I've barely seen her since she's gotten back. Not everything that I do is about her, it's never
really been that way, and it's certainly not that way now. I met with a lawyer because I wanted to.
Because this relationship that we're in is toxic, and it's not good for anyone. That's why I met with the
lawyer. He's drawing up divorce papers give you the house you like in Malibu, and me the Ranch in
Santa Barbara. Karen's almost eighteen, and lives at school, so the only custody arrangement we'll
have to work with is Teddy."

"Are you insane?" Mellie asked him, looking at him as if someone might have hit him over the head
with a rock while she was gone, "Once I'm done talking they'll be chasing you out of here with
pitchforks. Everything we've worked for will be gone and I promise you will never see either of
those children ever again. And if you think your precious Olivia will want anything to do with you
then… you'll lose everything. And I'll make sure of it."
"Would you just hold your damn tongue," Fitz's blood pressure was not only on the rise, but already
turning his ears red and face darker, "You're not taking my children anywhere. What's Teddy's favorite
toy? What play is Karen in? And I told you, this has nothing to do with Olivia – and if you would let
me finish: No one would know until the end of the term. Then there's a grace period of a few months
at the end before we announce we've gone our separate ways. We can appear amicable. And we'll get
you a senate seat, or something before I'm officially out. Everyone wins."

"You've thought this through."

"I have, I talked it over in a session with Elliot," Fitz said, "We can both win at this. There's no
reason we can't both survive it."

"So you want to be divorced without anyone knowing?"

"Yes."

"For three years?"

"Yes."

"This really is for you, isn't it?"

"It's for us," Fitz insisted, falling back to sit on the edge of the bed, "You move into the bedroom
across the hall – if it comes out we'll think of something to tell them. Other than that, we approach our
lives almost the same way. You handle matters of being the first lady, I stay president, and when the
time comes we'll find you an election to win, and then we'll part ways. It makes sense, Mellie."

"Right," She said, turning on her heel and walking away as Fitz ran his hands down his face.

It was too early in the morning for Mellie. Though he could probably make an argument even at night
time for it being too early for Mellie. He took a deep sigh, then headed into the bathroom and took a
shower before running off to a meeting with the joint chiefs. He was routinely woken up at odd hours
of the night for military briefings, and those went fine, and his mood was normal for the rest of the
day. Wake up to any sort of interaction with Mellie – except for those without words – and there was
a very high probability that his day would be ruined. It did, however, remind him that he should get in
contact with the lawyer at some point during the day to confirm other details.

"Sir," Tom popped into the Oval Office as Fitz had been sitting in there for ten minutes, bringing his
morning together before they left for Elliot's for a lunch session, "It's about time to – "

"That won't be necessary, Tom," Cyrus told him as he pushed through the doorway, and into the Oval
Office, "Thank you, though. Please shut the door?"

"Sir?" Tom looked over at Fitz for help.

"You can just wait outside, Tom," Fitz said, "I'll be out in a minute."
"Bye, Tom," Cyrus told him, and Tom ducked back out of the room, and shut the door, "Sir, you won't
be visiting with Dr. Winters anymore. We can find you a new therapist, if you would like."

"Excuse me?" Fitz furrowed his eyebrow, "I don't want another therapist. I want Elliot. I've built trust
with this man, I'm doing better. That's the whole point, yes?"

"You're doing a little too well, Mr. President," Cyrus said, and Fitz sat on his desk, waiting for it,
"I've cancelled your appointments with Dr. Winters for the rest of the week, and fired him, nicely so
he won't talk. There has to be a balance, Mr. President, between your mental health and what can
actually be done. I've got information that this Dr. Winters has encouraged you to go back to old
patterns of thinking, old declarations of divorce and of lawyers…"

"Mellie talked to you," Fitz said, he could have punched himself, "He's encouraging me to be a
healthier, better version of myself. In what way does that even concern you, Cy? I'm still here, I'll still
be doing my job. Did Mellie tell you the plan for the divorce, or did she just run to you as if the sky
was falling because she's about to not get her way? I'm tired of all this bullshit, Cyrus. And I'm not
doing it anymore. So, you can fire Elliot if you wish – but that's not going to stop me divorcing
Mellie. Even if I have to make it public, which I don't want to do. So, you go right back over to
Mellie, and you tell her what I've told you. I'm going to meet with Elliot, and I'll be back for my
afternoon meetings."

"You can't do that, sir," Cyrus said, "I've sent Dr. Winters and his family on a cruise, they were
escorted to it this morning. Now, if you need one, I can find you another psychologist…"

"Get out," Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded.

"Of course, sir."

"Tom?" Fitz yelled as Cyrus left the room, Tom made it in before the door slammed.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd like Teddy to be brought down, please," Fitz said, walking into the doorway to stand with him,
"Lauren, make sure my next hour and a half stays empty, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Lauren said it as Tom was already talking into his cuff.

Within about ten minutes, Fitz had all the doors into the Oval Office locked, and Teddy and all his
toys were strewn across the floor. Teddy was playing happily with his toy train, and Fitz had planned
on playing with him, but was instead slumped against the desk, watching him play. One thing about
being the toddler son of the President, he guessed, was learning how to entertain yourself during the
day. From what he observed, there was always someone playing with him when people were around,
but he had to think that being a toddler in the White House had to be about the most boring thing on the
face of the planet. He was happy for his son that he probably wouldn't remember much of it.

So, while he sat there, he thought about what he and Elliot might have talked about that day. He
thought about the things that he might or might not have brought up with him that session. How he was
completely confused about the majority of his life, but still – he was doing alright. His phone calls
with Olivia were leaving him happy, which was probably a red flag, but he couldn't entirely bring
himself to care. Except maybe how quickly she had hung up after he had tried to be the least bit
sentimental. Even apologizing to her was enough to make her run, and it only solidified to him that
pursuing anything with her at the moment, or even potentially in the future would be a disaster.
Possibly even more devastating than previously, because he wouldn't be able to keep his feelings in
check. As long as they kept things platonic – friends. He would be ok. It wouldn't be as bad when she
left.

Then there was Alex, who was straight forward, and actually – a breath of fresh air. He wasn't afraid
of her, he wasn't concerned about if and when she left. They had only met up a few times, and the
night before had gone well. She had talked to him about her hopes, dreams, things about herself that
made her who she was, and in return she asked nothing of him. She didn't ask about his private life,
she didn't even ask about his day, she simply commented that it must have been one in the hundreds of
the worst days of his life because of the job. She confided afterwards that she didn't actually want to
be president, like everyone was rooting for her to be. He had smiled, and nodded, and tried
desperately to get Olivia's laugh out of his head.

That was all easy enough to figure out on his own, right? Alex was good, normal, helpful – she didn't
make him irrational, or even cause him to feel all that much of anything. She was just – nice. Olivia
was – complicated, with too much water under the bridge to start over, or be happy, or even say
goodbye.

"Sir?" Tom asked as he walked into the room, "I took the liberty of tracking down Dr. Winters. We
can give him the option to come back, if you would like."

"No, I think I'll be ok now, thanks Tom," Fitz said, and Tom nodded, "For now, I'm going to play with
my son for a while."

"Good," Tom smiled slightly before heading back to his post outside the door.

Fitz walked back over towards where Teddy was building a tower out of foam blocks. He spent a
while building with Teddy before his off time was up, and Marta arrived to pack up Teddy and this
things while Fitz was off to his afternoon meetings. Most of them were with the team he had put
together for the information bill, all of which meetings he noticed that Cyrus was absent from. He
didn't push the subject, and hoped that Cyrus was talking some sort of sense into Mellie. He didn't
need him for these meetings anyway, as they were almost a hundred and fifty percent for show. He just
had to make sure that there were enough credible, and liked senators there that would make it
legitimate, and not as if he were only merely entertaining the idea. No one would buy it if he were
only convening with the leaders of several tin hat societies.

"Thanks for your time, Mr. President," Senator Henry told him, shaking his hand just before he left the
meeting.

Before Fitz could even turn around after his last meeting of the day, he was walking into the residence
for the night. Mellie greeted him with silence, and he wondered if she thought it was a punishment –
her not speaking to him. He hoped that she was considering her options, and there was enough going
on that he didn't really have time to deal with her screaming fits anymore. Instead of facing her, he
walked out onto the balcony. The night was quiet, not even a siren in the distance as he sat down on
the little chair in the corner.

"Well, well, Mr. President," He heard an almost cackling voice from his left, and he turned and saw
Rowan walking out of the shadows.

It was about time he showed up, Fitz had been making enough noise. His appearance wasn't a great
shock to him.

"Do I want to know how you got up here?" Fitz asked, not bothering to get up, his mind flickering to
the gun in his suit jacket, but deciding against it.

He didn't like his odds, against a man that was infinitely better trained, and probably better armed.

"I really don't think so," Rowan said, sitting down next to him, "You know, it's days like the past
couple that I tend to almost understand what my daughter sees in you. Ballsy, confident. Almost as if
you have a spine of your own even. Like you are not the mirage of the man, the Wizard of Oz. Smoke
and mirrors, it's all Washington is. And imagine how easy it would be, to make certain people
disappear."

"You killed my son," Fitz said, through clenched teeth, and Rowan laughed.

"I'll do much worse," He replied, "I've done much worse. I can do things that will make the death of a
fifteen year old boy, tragic as it is, seem like roadkill on the highway. And here, all I've been hearing
about you wanting to reveal something that you know very little about. I don't think that would be the
best decision, on your part. But I'm not the President, am I, Fitzgerald?"

"No, that would be me," Fitz replied, and Rowan nodded.

"That would be you, for now," He said, getting up and walking back into a side door that led almost
directly out of the residence, a clear escape route.

Fitz took a deep breath, and looked out over the city. Wondering, not the first time that day, how he
had gotten to the point he had. How he was sitting on the veranda of the White House, down one
child, down one would be happy relationship. He could feel his thoughts starting to spiral, and he
tried to stop himself. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the breathing tools that Elliot had
taught him the first week, in case of emergencies when he needed to calm down. He thought about all
the things he would do once Rowan was properly in prison. He thought about the ways and patterns of
thinking that Elliot had been helping him with. Then, he pulled the small cell phone out of his

pocket, and he called Olivia.

"Fitz?" She answered, and Fitz took a deep breath.

"Hello," He replied, simply.

"He was there?" She asked, and he hummed in affirmation, "Good, it means he's rattled. He wouldn't
risk going directly to the White House if he didn't have to."

"So this is a good thing?" He asked, very aware of who or what might overhear him.

"We're still working this end," Olivia replied, "How are you doing?"

"Better," He answered, "How about you?"

"You're telling me that you actually care?"

"Isn't that what friends are supposed to do?"

"Friends? We're friends now?"

"I'd like to be," He said, almost in a whisper.

"So how was the meeting with Henry?"

"Oh, he's a raving lunatic," Fitz told her, and she laughed, "But it's getting the job done. So how can I
complain?"

"Very true," Olivia said, "Do you really think that we can be friends, Fitz?"

"I don't see how we couldn't stay friends at this point," He said, taking a deep breath, "We know each
other too well. We work too close. It's just better for business."

"I think you're right," She said, and he heard her sigh, "How was Cyrus today?"

"He wasn't bothering me about that," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "Which I can imagine I have you
to thank for. I threw a different screwball at him today, I think he was angrier about that, anyway."

"Cy's a friend, too," Olivia reminded him, and he nodded even though she could not see him.

"Sometimes. And sometimes he's Cyrus."

 13. Chapter 13
A/N: So, it's been a little while. But here's a new chapter, so don't be too mad at me :) it's a little
short, but it's an update. enjoy!

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Thirteen

There were only so many times that Fitz could walk in laps around the White House. At night it was
pretty nice, actually – and he was sure that by the end of his term, he would be the most acquainted
President with the house. At least that was if things kept going the way that they had been. At least he
had accomplished something, right? As he passed the Lincoln Library he remembered an old story
about Nixon. The night before Nixon's resignation, he was on suicide watch. He was pacing through
the White House in its entirety and his staffers were casually checking in on him on his route to make
sure he didn't blow his own head off. Fitz never thought he would have so much in common with the
defamed and infamous former holder of his current position. If only the American people knew that
compared to Fitzgerald Grant, Nixon was squeaky clean. Like, just walked out of the shower might
have some sand behind the ears still clean. And he was the pig that had been wading around in the
mud.

In all the halls and all the portraits that lined the walls, it was the portrait of John Fitzgerald Kennedy
that haunted him the most. It wasn't just the name-sake, the similarities never seemed to stop. You
would have to be living under a special kind of rock to not notice the endless similarities between
them. It started with the name, sure. Then the Navy background, the pushy dad, the glaring physical
resemblance, the scandals – but no one cared about those then. He had Clinton to thank for the nation's
fixation on current presidents' personal lives. Kenned, according to his father's old stories and hints
had more women coming and going out of that mansion than he did suits. They were both shot in the
head, even. Hell, they were both fathers of three, one son passing away while in office. Of course,
Kennedy had the misfortune of succumbing to his assassination attempt, but things were much simpler
back then. And living was complicated.

He wondered if John had cried, when Marilyn died. If she was at moat a quick and exciting brea from
the reality of being president, or if whatever their relationship was, was more than the Kennedy
family would ever admit. Clutching their pearls, they declared that it wasn't true. It reminded him of
Mellie, in the bunker, clutching her own pearls declaring that he and Olivia never happened. To save
the reputation of everyone else involved, of course. He was stopped now, looking up at the famed
portrait of Jack as he looked to the ground. He took a deep breath. What would he ever do if
something were to happen to Olivia? He couldn't imagine dealing with that, after losing a child, after
surrendering his own life to what his father wanted. Maybe Kennedy was thankful for the bullet.
Maybe, that last bullet to the back of his skull was his first real breath of the freedom he was
supposed to be ensuring for everyone else.

He saw the red flag, and he turned. He backtracked, watching Tom as he retreated along with him, just
out of sight. It was now the portion of the evening where he walked back into the residence, and
stared at his phone like an emotionally battered teenage girl and wait for Olivia to call with an
update. Things were getting serious, now that Rowan was on his toes. She called him every night
around ten, and told him what had happened that day whether there was an update or not. The
business half of the phone call usually lasted about eight minutes, and then they would talk about other
stuff. What they were worried about that day, what kind of week they'd been having. Nothing in detail,
there were glaring gaps where Fitz didn't ask about her and Jake, and he didn't tell her about Alex.
They kept it simple, their codependence was simpler when they spoke frequently, and about nothing of
any real consequence. But he knew that he would be much worse off without his conversations with
her.

"Good evening, Sir," Daniel said, nodding his head to him as he went up the stairs to the residence.

"Good evening," Fitz said, pausing for a minute, looking around the floor.

"Is something the matter, Mr. President?"

"No, thank you," Fitz said, with an awkward kind of smile.

Fitz walked into the living room, and sat down to watch TV. He didn't exactly sleep very well at
night, hadn't in almost a year, and watching TV made him feel less pathetic while he waited for Olivia
to call. He swallowed, and he waited for the phone to ring. When it didn't, he could feel the bones in
his chest start to fall inwards, and then – he pushed it back out. He exhaled, trying desperately to fill
his nearly deflated lungs with air. There were a few full minutes in that time, when he was waiting for
the call, that he did not breathe. It hurt, it ached. But he couldn't think about that. He left his phone on
the coffee table, and went into the kitchen where he found his sleeping pills. Tom had just given them
back. A gun was much easier than a bottle of pills if he was intending to end it. However, tonight that
was not at all his intention. So, he took two with a glass of water, and headed for his bedroom.

He woke up twice in the night, not sure why because usually two pills were more than enough to keep
him out until morning. They were from just after Gerry died, prescription tranquilizers so that he
didn't have to think. So that he wouldn't lay in bed and let his head spin. But instead, he had woken up
twice in the night. It was an anomaly, but it was one that he was more afraid of than suspicious of. He
was clearly building up a tolerance to the stuff. Which was a problem only if he ended up needing
something more powerful.

"Morning, Mr. President," Tom greeted him, as was now custom because Fitz was generally alone.

"Has Mellie made any noise this morning?" Fitz asked him, and he shook his head, "What about Liv?
Anything on that front?"

"Not a peep, sir," Tom told him, and Fitz nodded.

Maybe this was it. Maybe Olivia was done, as done as he had convinced her he was. He felt the
weight of his dread like a lead bowling ball on his chest. He took a deep breath, and found himself
walking right into Alex in the hallway. It's what he got, for not paying attention to where he was going,
except it wasn't an all together unwelcome offence. His security, and the empty hallway turned the
other way as she took hold of his tie, and pulled him into the nearest empty conference room.
Ironically, one they would be stuck in for hours together later, but with his advisors, and a bunch of
other people. She had his shirt off in a matter of seconds, and they were making out all over the table.
Then, she was snuggled up under his arm, and he was staring up at the ceiling.

"So, what's the rest of your day look like?" She asked.

"Ah," He said, trying to force his brain to go back to work, where it hadn't been in weeks, "Meetings,
and then I have to rest up for a trip. I'm endorsing a California Governor, and I have to get out there
for a day for his campaign. I was thinking about getting Karen from school so that she can see her old
friends."

"That sounds nice," Alex replied, nuzzling her face into his side, somewhat shyly.

"What?"

"I mean," Alex said, taking a deep breath, "Not to be that person, but – I guess I'm going to have to be.
What are we? Should I feel free to go home with men from the bar – and what sort of situation is
going on with you? Mellie's pretty much moved out from the rumor mill, I was just wondering…"

"You're asking for a status update?" He asked, and Alex shrugged.

"Sorry."

"No, it makes sense," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "It's been what – a month?"

"Two," Alex replied, unashamed, and Fitz nodded.

"Well, I'm – kind of coming out of a long time…" Fitz said, trying to figure out how to phrase it
without coming off as a douchebag.

"You're getting a divorce, I know," Alex said, and Fitz made a face.

"That's not exactly…"

"And Olivia Pope hasn't been snooping around very often lately," Alex said, and Fitz raised his
eyebrows, "Oh, don't look so surprised. You and Olivia Pope have been the worst kept secret in
Washington for years. The Press almost got it right, but then it was covered up. Everyone in this
building – except maybe most of the press – knows about you and Olivia Pope."

"Right," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "Listen – she was the only person I ever really loved. In any
romantic sense of the word."

"Well, I don't think you've really tried," Alex said, and Fitz took a deep breath.

"I can't really be your boyfriend, Alex."

"No," She replied, "But some level of exclusivity…"

No. He wanted to say no. He knew he wanted to say 'no', but what did that mean? He should be able
to say yes to a basic level of commitment. Elliot would think it was good, right? He was moving on,
he was making himself healthy with a person who didn't drive him crazy. A person who didn't drive
his blood pressure up, and a person who wasn't going to be all that difficult to conduct some sort of
relationship with. This was good, there was progress to be made. It hurt, but progress always hurt.

"I think I can do that," Fitz said, quietly, and Alex looked surprised, he added in more mocking tone,
"Don't look so surprised, 'Lex."

"Sir," Tom edged his face into the room, "You have a meeting with Mr. Beene in ten minutes."

"Thanks, Tom," Fitz nodded, putting his shirt back on as he got up from the floor and got his shirt and
jacket from the table.

He tucked his shirt in as he walked towards Tom, his jacket over his arm as he walked with him down
the hall. He put it on just as they were coming up outside of the Oval Office.

"Oh, sir," Tom said, pausing him before he walked into the office, "Jake Ballard has been trying to
call you. Twice, he tried to call you."

"I don't want to talk to Jake Ballard," Fitz said, and Tom nodded.

"That was what I figured, Sir," Tom replied, as Fitz walked into his meeting.

He was about ten minutes into his meeting when Tom told him that Jake had called, again. Fitz blew it
off and didn't want to talk to Jake. As far as he was concerned, he could never see Jake again in his
whole life, and it would be a good one. That was possibly the one good side to breaking apart and
splitting ways with Olivia. Their phone conversation relations meant that he never had to deal with
Ballard ever again. That was not something he was going to apologize about being happy about. Like
a little red cherry on top of one of the shittiest sundaes that he had ever been made aware of: "Here's
everything you've been told you wanted your whole life. The price? Your first born child, the love of
your life, and ninety-nine percent of the shreds of sanity you had left." Worth it? Absolutely fucking
not.

"Sir," Tom said, as he was guiding him down to the gun range that evening.

"I don't want to be told that Ballard is calling again," Fitz told him, "I want his number blocked,
Tom."

"Of course, sir," Tom replied, as they were walking into the range.

"And remind me that I need to contact Karen's school," He said, "If I go to California and don't bring
her with me, she's going to hate me even more than she already does."

"Yes, sir."
He spent an hour and a half perfecting some strange shot that Tom had been trying to teach him, for
whatever reason. There was an art to it, and Fitz had to admit that it was an interesting way to learn.
There was a sense of fun to it, and he was actually starting to think that his annual hunting trip might
not be such an embarrassment in the coming year. Once they were done, they returned to the Oval
Office to make sure that everything was in order for the next day. Except when he walked in, Jake was
sitting on his couch.

"Tom, I want this man removed," Fitz said, as Jake rose to greet him.

"Of course, sir."

"Wait," Jake stopped him, "You have to hear me out. You owe me that much."

"I owe you?" Fitz asked, and Jake froze, "I owe you for contributing to the great, spiraling downfall
that is my life. I should thank you then, for sleeping with my girlfriend? For taking the fact that you
were one of the last few people that I trusted and throwing it in the trash?"

"Fitz."

"Mr. President."

"Ok, Mr. President," Jake said, then added dramatically,"Liv's missing."

"She does that. Or did you think you were special? Because she can be very convincing. It was only a
matter of time before she flew the coup again, right?" Fitz said, as guards appeared to escort Jake
from the premises, "I'm sorry you also ended up on this end of the stick this time, Captain Ballard."

"I got to her apartment this morning, and it had been broken into," Jake shouted, "She didn't call you
last night – did she?"
 14. Chapter 14
A/N: Hello, it's been a long time, but Scandal comes back this week, and I would really like to
eventually finish. And in order to eventually finish, I've just got to slowly chip away at it until it's
done - hope you all stick around because I think it's going to be one of my favorites, when it's
finished. Anyways, enjoy my lovelies :) (It's a little sort, but again – chipping away)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Fourteen:

What The Actual Fuck. The room was spinning, and they were nowhere close to finding Olivia then
they had been when they started hours ago. He had gone with Jake to her apartment, and it was not the
least like the last time when she had decided to disappear. Her apartment was destroyed, and the
second that he walked into it was the heartbeat he believed Jake. He hadn't wanted to believe his ex-
best friend that his ex-girlfriend was missing, but there he was. Standing in the middle of her
apartment, the place that haunted his dreams almost as much as the house in Vermont that he would
likely now never live in. He had fallen to his knees, in her apartment earlier, when he realized that
most of it was untouched – except for the fact that she had left wine open on the counter. Except that
none of her clothes were missing from the closet, her television was still on, and there was a bowl of
popcorn sitting on the coffee table, untouched.

The next few hours were a blur of orders, and pulling surveillance tapes, and a trip down to the
situation room with Cyrus. They had left him alone a few minutes ago, he was pretty sure at his own
request. He was almost certain that he had chewed everyone who had tried to comfort him, who had
tried to watch him, out one by one until they all left. Until they decided that he wanted to be alone.
Alex, who didn't really know what was going on in the first place, Cyrus, Tom… everyone. Now he
was sitting in the Oval Office, the fucking room wouldn't stop spinning, and all he could think about
was her untouched bowl of popcorn on that damn coffee table. He looked over at the desk, and the
bottle he knew was in the bottom drawer. There was a small nagging voice in the back of his head,
which sounded a bit like Mellie, telling him that he shouldn't. Which was probably why that voice
would fail, in the long run, to keep him from downing the whole thing.

It was one of the first times that he and Olivia were going to be alone on the campaign trail after their
first 'slip'. Slip was the word that Olivia had used, but he wouldn't phrase it like that. The morning
after, however, had held an interesting conversation, where Fitz felt like he was backpedaling. He had
had to explain to her, that next morning when they woke up, that nothing he had said to her was
something he wanted to take back. That he still felt the same way, that he was stuck, and drowning and
someone from a higher place had finally thrown him a line. That he had finally found someone that he
could see himself spending the rest of his life with. It had taken a considerable amount of time to
convince her of this, that she wasn't just some fling that he had decided to indulge in because of the
stress of the election. He wasn't entirely sure that he had convinced her, but he had convinced her to
come with him to Georgia in order to get ready for the general election.
He, admittedly, had spent much more time planning their weekend together than anything to do with
the election. They were going to some sort of fund raiser for an animal shelter, and stopping in on a
few sick kids in the hospital – reminding the American people that Republicans were people, with
souls. Mellie was off being very outspoken and very visibly helping out at Karen and Gerry's school.
They were all headed to Paris for the weekend, and Mellie had volunteered to go. Except she had
only volunteered once she secured a scheduled times for her to meet with some of France's leaders
for brunches, and the occasional dinner. That Mellie, she was always thinking. He rolled his eyes just
thinking about it as he finished lighting the candles in his hotel suite, checking the clock. Olivia was
supposed to be knocking on the door any second. He had barely showered since they arrived, he
threw on casual clothes – sweatpants and an old Navy t-shirt casual. The point of this trip, for him,
was to show her that he was a person, with a soul. The suite was lit low, the couch and a few candles
ready to go. He had Netflix up on the TV, ready to watch whatever she wanted, even a few DVDs
from the concierge waiting on the coffee table if she preferred.

"Hello?" He heard the door squeak open and he smiled.

"Hi," Fitz walked right up to her, letting his hand fall onto her hip as he leaned in and kissed her
quickly.

"Hi," She couldn't hide a smile as she shut the door behind her, "You look cozy."

"Mhmm," He said, mumbling slightly as he snuggled his nose into her shoulder, she giggled and he
could feel his heart melt.

"Mmmm," She said, lacing one hand's fingers with his, "So what's the plan for tonight?"

"Well, I had dinner brought up, it's in the kitchenette – God, I always hated that word," He smirked,
pointing to the two plates that were covered on the counter, "Two orders of the same, hope you don't
mind."

"Well that depends on what it is," She said, and he lifted one of lids.

"Spaghetti squash, broccoli, and chicken," He pointed out.

"And after dinner?"

"Well," He reached into the cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of wine that he had seen her get along the
trail already.

"Oooh," She said, as he passed it over to her, and then he reached up and brought down the pack of
popcorn he had sent the concierge out for.

"Popcorn and a movie?" He asked, and she smiled as she set the wine back down with the plates of
food.

"You got me my specific brand of popcorn?" She asked, and he chuckled.

"You're the only one who's allowed to be observant?" He asked, leaning in and kissing her forehead.

Dinner they discussed game plan for the next day, which had been switched with the animal shelter.
They were headed to the hospital to visit some sick kiddos, which was always awful to be exposed
to. However, it was not only a great thing to do in general, but also apparently an excellent political
move. Olivia felt the need to remind him several times over dinner that the American People were
smart, that they wouldn't buy that there was soul to him unless he actually put a portion of his soul into
it, in a good way. He understood this, and the two charities they were meeting with he had no
intentions of half – assing. They were worthy foundations, and if he had the time, he would have liked
to volunteer for them himself.

"Ok," Fitz said, taking a breath as they moved to the couch, a bowl of popcorn under his arm – she
was carrying the wine, "New deal."

"And what is that?" Olivia said, crossing her legs underneath her, sitting on her feet – God, she was
perfect.

"No more shop talk," He said, wrapping his arm around her, and she leaned into him, "The rest of
tonight should just be us. Being together."

"Ok," Olivia smiled, "But you should really think of something, to share with the kids tomorrow. A
talent, or some toys or something, but maybe once it gets to be December we can dress you up as
Santa or something – Hey."

A single kernel of popcorn hit her on the cheek.

"Every time you bring up work, I'm going to hit you with a piece of popcorn," He said, through a fist
full of popcorn.

"That's not fair," She flashed a playful smile, "I can't shut my brain off."

"I'm not asking you to shut your brain off," He replied, pelting her with another piece, "I like your
brain, I adore your brain – I would even go so far as to say I love your brain. I'm just asking you to
shut off a portion of your brain, for a few hours, tops."

"I can't."

"Well, then be prepared for some more."

"Fine, but that's a horrible waste of popcorn," She said, and Fitz chuckled, "Popcorn should never go
to waste."

"God forbid."

"I can play guitar."

"What?"
"And I sing a little bit," He said, taking a deep breath, "If you can get me a guitar by the morning, I can
play and sing some kiddie songs with the kids. Does that make you feel better?"

"You play guitar?" She asked, and he smiled, the business brain was gone.

"Are you ready to relax with me now, Livy?" He dropped his voice slightly, and she nodded as she
took the bowl from him, handing him his wine glass.

She picked a movie not too long after that, and they were quiet most of the rest of the night. Olivia
relaxed to the point where she passed out in his arms, and he carried her to bed once the movie was
over. He tucked her in, and in the absence of another bed, and her sound asleep he opted for the
couch. He kissed her forehead, pulled the covers up around her. Then he pulled a pillow from the
other side of the bed, and a sheet from the closet to go and sleep on the unfolded out couch. The magic
didn't quite happen until the next day, when he was singing Old MacDonald with a group of kids
fighting cancer that he spotted it. There was a look in her eye, while she was watching him play that
made him feel like she was really seeing him for the first time, without all the other shit. The political
BS, the other labels – she wasn't seeing him as a client anymore, and she wasn't so upset about it
anymore.

The bottle that had been full in his desk for a week and a half was now empty on the coffee table, but
Fitz didn't feel any better. He was stuck inside of a nightmare, and he couldn't even drink himself out
of it. There was, of course, always a chance that he could get someone other than Tom to run to the
liquor store for him. Then it occurred to him – he lived inside of the White House. There had to be
something in house that he could drink. He stumbled his way to the other side of the room, and
managed to get himself down the stairs just safely enough that all he had to deal with was a slightly
pained toe, and an even sorer ankle. But he made it into the kitchen, and started rooting around in the
cabinet looking for something to drink.

"Sir?" Tom walked around the corner.

"Oh, my ever- present…" Fitz forgot the word, "Sha-dow. Shadow. My ever present shadow."

"Sir, have you been drinking?"

"Oh, fuck," Fitz said sarcastically, "You caught me."

"Sir, I understand that this has been a particularly difficult day for you," Tom said, and he held out his
hand anyway.

"Oh, this?" Fitz asked, whipping the gun out of it's holster inside of his jacket, and holding it up, "You
want this back? You're afraid I'm going to decide that this little friend is going to be the only way out
of this damn nightmare? Well fuck, it probably is. But I can't do that when Liv's out there somewhere
taken by - God knows who. They're doing God knows what to her and I'm stuck in this damn house. I
need to go looking for her – but it was so fucking important to everyone that I be president – so I can't.
I don't get an out when my daughter's school is calling twice a week because she doesn't want to be
there. I need to be here to assure her that staying at school is a better option than coming home to
realize her whole childhood, and most of her life is a lie after her brother died less than a year ago. I
don't get to kill myself, Tom. But you can have my gun, if you want it."

He dropped the gun into Tom's waiting hand before walking somewhat straight out of the room. His
path may have been a little more winding than he'd have liked, but he thought that Tom got the message
he was trying to send. There was a bad taste in his mouth, but he wasn't about to stop as he walked
back into the residence. It was empty and dark, as per usual. There was no one there, Teddy was off
with Mellie, and they had been checked on and were considered safe for the evening since Olivia had
gone missing. Whoever took her, they were only after her – but she was the only one that they really
had to take. He took a breath as he collapsed onto the couch. But there were at least three million
reasons that Olivia was missing, or had been taken.

"So, Mr. President," He heard a chilling voice behind him, "Where is my daughter? Can you tell me
where my daughter is?"

"Fuck," Fitz breathed, and Eli raised his eyebrows as he sat down across from him, over a coffee
table.

"So this is where I find my daughter's greatest champion on the night she disappears?" Eli asked, his
mocking, "The man she told me she loved more than anything in the world – the man she was willing
to forsake everything she was raised with, taught, or even believed in herself. Sitting piss-drunk on
his couch inside of the least secure fortress I've ever seen crying about his lost 'Livy' while she is god
knows where."

"Fuck you."

Eli laughed, like a movie villain. Fitz wondered vaguely if there was somewhere people learned how
to do that – Cyrus had a pretty good laugh, too.

"Is that the best you can come up with? While you sit on your ass?"

"How many times have you told me how much more powerful you are than me?" Fitz accused,
"Shouldn't you be able to snap your fingers and we'd both have her back? Don't you know everything?
Why don't you know where she is?"

"Honestly?" He asked, "I believe a mutual enemy of ours took her, almost twenty hours ago. He
should be releasing some sort of shotty half-assed ransom video or whatever they've decided on."

"Do you have a name?" Fitz asked.

"A mercenary terrorist, Nicholas Jamesson. Home grown." Eli replied, dropping a file folder onto the
table between them, "Take a look at it when you're sober, Mr. President."

"Jamesson?"

"The very same."

Eli left the room with a twisted smirk on his face. That smile was just about the last thing Fitz
remembered before he passed out on the couch, unable or unwilling to make any further effort for the
day.
 15. Chapter 15
A/N: Hello, lovelies… sorry it's been so long. Studying. Life. Illness … on the rebound now though
so be ready lol. Enjoy : )

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Fifteen

Fitz woke up the next morning with a full sheet of paper stuck to the side of his face. He wasn't sure
where it came from, but he crumpled it up and tossed it across the room as he sat up. The accentuated
pain in his head had come from sitting up too quickly, or the noise of the paper crumpling. But as his
brain reminded him of everything that had happened the day before, and he was reminded that it was
in fact not just the worst nightmare he ever had – it was his current reality. He groaned, stretching
slightly as he realized Elliot was sitting in the chair, across his living room – apparently waiting for
him to wake up. Fitz blinked a couple of times, to make sure he wasn't seeing things and Elliot gave
him a sort of small, concerned smile.

"Good morning," Elliot said, and Fitz screwed his eyes shut tight, then opened them again – it didn't
make anything better.

"It's morning," Fitz couldn't argue that part, "But it's not necessarily a good one. What're you doing
here?"

"Tom told Cyrus you had been drinking last night, and that you had passed out," Elliot explained,
"Then Cyrus decided that it was time to call me back."

"Of course," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, running his hands into his sinuses to try and clear them,
"Nothing worse for optics than a boozing president. Even if he does lose control of me because of it.
It's ok, Elliot. I'm – I'm going to be ok. It was one night. Don't worry about it."

"Do you know what brought it on?" Elliot asked, and Fitz nodded.

"Yes," Fitz ran a hand through his hair – which was probably a mess from sleeping on the couch all
night, "I know exactly what brought it on. I'm sorry Cyrus called you in, but it's only a matter of time
before my handlers decide it's too dangerous for me to be emotionally and spiritually stable. So, I
think it's time that I worked on things more deeply myself."

"That's probably true," Elliot replied, "So, just – is there a plan for you now? How are you going to
make sure this doesn't happen again?"

"Well, I've got to get Liv back," Fitz said, and Elliot raised an eyebrow.

"Did I miss something?"

"Yes," Fitz said, "I can't tell you exactly what, but it's either I get her back or – "

There was a pause.

"…I think you might have regressed while I was away," Elliot said, "Isn't this the whole reason why
you had to start coming to talk to me in the first place?"

"I don't really have all that much time to explain," Fitz said, taking the folder off the table, starting to
fully recall the conversation that he had had with Eli the night before – there was a dull throbbing in
his head, "I just – Don't worry about me, ok?"

"If I unnecessarily worried about my patients I would be an extraordinarily exhausted man," Elliot
told him, "But you're showing some really alarming behavior…"

"It's not," Fitz took a deep breath as Tom walked into the room, "Tom, perfect. C'mon. I was just about
to have someone call you. Can you have someone show Dr. Winters out, please? I'm sorry, I'll explain
what I can later."

"Ah…"

Elliot didn't sound so sure of this plan, but Fitz was already out the door and down the hall – Tom at
his heels, and the file that Eli had given him under his arm. He needed to contact Liv's team. Huck, to
be specific Huck was someone he was going to need to help him. He looked over at Tom as he
headed towards one of the less monitored rooms of the White House.

"Tom?" Fitz asked as he sat down, opening up the folder.

"Yes, Mr. President?"

"I need you to track down Huck, and bring him here."

"Huck, sir?"

"Olivia's Huck," Fitz replied, and Tom nodded.

"Last we heard, he was working at the Best Buy, sir," Tom replied, "At the mall."

"Well, I need him brought here, immediately."

"Sir, Huck's not exactly someone we can throw into the back of the van…"

"Tell him that Liv's in trouble," Fitz said, "Tell him I'm asking for him."

"Yes, sir."

Tom turned and left the room as Fitz opened up the file and started to read. The name had sounded
familiar when Eli mentioned it, but now looking at the photo he remembered Nicholas Jamesson well.
He had been in one of the same seal teams as Fitz when he had been involved with black-ops Navy
missions. They had worked together on a few, including ones that were under the ever watchful eye of
Eli Pope, going by his alter ego Rowan. He blinked for a second, trying to remember anything he
could about the man. He couldn't recall much, he had been quite, and from what he had been told once
he was out of the Navy, Jamesson had gone MIA, and was presumed dead. Fitz read Eli's file on him
to find out that he was far from dead, and had been working in Syria for the past fifteen years, and had
been involved in everything from human trafficking to drugs.

"Sir," Tom announced himself, making Fitz look up, "Huck is on the premises, he's being brought up."

"Thank you, Tom."

"Sir."

"Yes?"

"I'd like permission to stay," Tom said, then cleared his throat, "While you meet with Huck. I – I spent
a few years doing some – side work and I was special forces in the military – I just think that I can
help you find Miss Pope."

"If you want to help you're more than welcome to stay," Fitz told him, and Tom nodded.

Fitz paused for a second, watching Tom walk towards the corner, his hands folded in front of him,
standing at the ready- on guard.

"Tom, if you're going to help – you're more than welcome to have a seat," Fitz motioned over to the
chair with his eyes.

"Thank-you, sir," Tom relaxed as he walked over and sat down.

"You might have to scoot a little closer to get a look at the file," Fitz said as he laid the file out as best
he could on the little coffee table in front of him.

"Why, this room, sir?" Tom asked, looking around.

"Because there's one camera," Fitz said, without looking up, "And it's way over by the window. And,
if we angle the papers behind your chair – they can't really get a good look at them."

"Yes, sir," Tom replied, "Of course – it's just – you do realize…."

"It's the Queen's sitting room," Fitz said, nodding – still not looking up, "Yes, I get the irony – but also
– there's only one camera, and barely anyone comes in here anymore."

"Right," Tom replied, and Fitz nodded there was a knock on the door.

"Sir?" Lauren was standing in the doorway, Huck looming behind her.
"Thanks, Lauren," Fitz said, getting up and walking over to greet Huck as Lauren left.

"Mr. President," Huck said, letting Fitz's outstretched hand linger for a minute before shaking it, "They
said Liv was in trouble?"

"Yes," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, remembering the kid gloves that Olivia usually used whenever
Huck was involved, "It seems that Liv was taken yesterday morning some time. We've received no
threats, no one taking responsibility – no one's asking for ransom yet – but we have intelligence on
who took her, most likely."

"No ransom?" Huck look puzzled.

"No," Fitz said, with a little shake of his head, "But we have a pretty good lead."

"Ok," Huck said, "How can I help?"

"Well, I'm not really any good at this sort of stuff," Fitz said, "I was hoping you could sort of lead the
way – work with us. You know what Liv would do as far as tracking."

"I do," Huck said, pulling a laptop out of his bag, "Don't worry sir, I have an untraceable hotspot… no
one will know it's coming from - here."

"Thanks, Huck," Fitz said, sitting back down.

He was about to ask Huck to make himself at home, let him know if he needed anything – but he soon
realized that it wouldn't be necessary. Huck set his laptop down on the coffee table and started
reading the file as he sat, basket-style on the floor as he started working. Fitz wasn't really sure what
he could do to contribute, except maybe stare at Jamesson's picture, a glass of water in hand, and try
to remember just about everything that he could. There was something he was missing, he knew it.
Something was wrong. Except everything was wrong, and to find the little piece in the vast hurricane
of wrong – would be impossible.

"Ah," Huck said after a few minutes and Fitz looked up at him.

"What?"

"I could use some ah – food."

"Food?" Fitz asked, and Huck nodded, somewhat apologetically.

"Yes," Huck replied, "They came and got me right before my lunch break. I – don't really function
very well with not a lot of food."

"Right," Fitz said, getting up – he had to move, "I'll go and have the kitchen make something."

"Roast beef?" Huck asked.

Fitz gave him a little nod.

"Tom?"

"Nothing, thanks sir."

"You should really eat something, Agent Larson," Huck said, and Tom shook his head.

"No, I'm all right," He said as he got down on the floor to help Huck.

"Alright," Fitz said, "I'll go call down to the kitchen."

Fitz stepped out into the hallway and used his White House Cell Phone to call down to the kitchen to
have Huck's sandwhich brought up to him. Fitz checked his watch, but knew that he was too upset to
have anything whatsoever. All he could think about was Jamesson. What could have possibly
happened to him that this was the way that the world had turned out for him? He had been a fairly
decent guy when he knew him. But even he, under the leadership of Rowan had shot down three
hundred and twenty-nine innocent people on it.

Fitz was staring up at the sky outside of their barracks tent in Northern Scotland. The wind had just
died down, and he had wanted to look up at the stars. They weren't exactly the same ones that he
would have seen at home, but they did give a little of that home feeling. And when he was so far
away, it was well worth the moment of almost forgetting that he had chosen to trade the mansions,
prep schools, and nice cars for a bunk in the middle of nowhere. There was a little hangar within
view, where his plane was stored, and where any semblance of pretending to be home was crushed.
He took a breath, took a sip of his beer, and walked back in to where Ballard and Jamesson had been
kicking his ass playing poker.

"C'mon, rich boy," Ballard teased, "Time to lose it all."

"You didn't have to send a letter to daddy for more, did you?" Jamesson joked, which made the table
laugh as Fitz sat down.

"Yeah, yeah," Fitz said, taking his seat at the little fold up table again, "We'll just see after the next
couple of rounds."

"You sure about that, Fitz?" Jake teased him, and Fitz rolled his eyes.

He and Jake had been paired off together since basic training, which Jake had entered from high
school, and Fitz had gone to as a detour before law school. Fitz had a couple of years of training on
Jake, in addition to the education, but Jake was sharp. Determined. He was going to do well,
sometimes Fitz thought that maybe Jake would fair better than he would in the real world. This was
just one of the many missions they would be together on, somewhere in the middle of Fitz's military
career. Jamesson was only on this one mission with them, but he had picked up on their somewhat
brotherly banter quite quickly, and joined in.

"How are we supposed to trust you to fly our plane when you can't even keep a good poker face?"
Jamesson took another jab.

"Oh, I'd trust his flying anywhere," Jake said, leaning back, keeping his cards tight, "Got us out of
more than a few scary situations. They didn't pick him for the bragging rights. He's a hell of a flyer."

"It's the reason I'm here," Fitz said, laying down his cards.

"Shit."

"Damn."

"What did I say, boys?" Fitz said, taking the middle lot for his winnings, "Don't worry – I'll get you
each a beer when we get back Stateside in a couple days."

"Stateside?" Jake asked, and Fitz nodded.

"A couple days?" Jamesson asked.

"I'm goin' home the day after tomorrow, after the mission," Peter, the only other in their squad said,
and Fitz nodded in agreement.

"Why're they sending you two home?" Jake asked, and Jamesson went quiet.

"I don't know," Fitz replied, "That'll be the first time they've split us up in years."

"Except for leave," Jake agreed.

"Well, good luck," Fitz said, as they were all heading towards their bunks for the night so they could
rest up, "And you two can give me a ring when you get back to the States. I'll get you those beers."

"That a promise, Grant?" Jamesson asked, and Fitz nodded as he crawled into his bunk.

"Absolutely," Fitz said.

"Sweet dreams of beer in three, two, one," Jake commented as he shut off the lights.

Fitz lay awake for a few minutes before he let his eyes slip closed. Any worry about the next day's
mission would be at a loss, because they were as prepared as they were going to be. Operation
Remington was going to go off without a hitch. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes – dreading,
as always, the early wake-up call above all else. He was sleeping for about four hours before he was
woken up by his on-site commanding officer.

"Grant," He barked softly, and Fitz sat up straight in bed.

"Yes, sir?" He whispered back.

"Get out of your bunk, and get dressed, son," He said, "Try not to wake the others."
"Yes, sir.'

Fitz got up, and into his gear as quickly, and as quietly as he could manage. The officer hadn't said
anything specific about what he would be doing, but Fitz figured he might as well just bring
everything.

"Sir?" He whispered as he stepped out of the tent.

"Grant, I've received communications from the Commander," He said, "You won't be flying in
Operation Remington this morning. Instead you'll be taking down a target over the Atlantic."

"The Atlantic?" Fitz questioned as the file was handed over to him.

"We've received word a few minutes ago that a plane took off from Washington with an explosive on
board. You're to shoot it down before it goes off on a target somewhere in London," The officer said.

"This is a commercial airliner," Fitz said, looking down at the folder.

"Three hundred and twenty-nine versus the thousands who live in the greater London area?" The
officer asked him, "It's top secret, no one will even know. Your team will think you're flying with
them. When you're done, fly back here and land as planned at the end of their mission – they'll never
know the difference."

"Sir," Huck poked his head out into the hallway, where Fitz had been taking a moment.

"Yes?"

"We've got something."

 16. Chapter 16
A/N: Hey guys – thanks for sticking with me. Enjoy the chapter my friends :)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Sixteen

It hadn't taken all that long, but there was an old warehouse just outside the city that was rented out to
on one of the aliases of one of his usual crew. Then there was the planning session, which was
understandably significantly shorter than the search. There wasn't much of one – they weren't even
sure that anyone was there, but there was no chance that Fitz was going to be left behind. It had taken
some convincing, and an allowance for a couple more people to join them, before Tom would allow
him to go with them to check it out. He had chosen to add in Quinn and Jake, bringing their team up to
five people, which for some reason Tom found more comforting. He assumed that it was Jake that
made it more comforting – no matter how much of an asshole he was, he was loyal, and he was good.
The whole afternoon had been taken up by meetings where they had gone over the strategy for that
evening. Now, he was returning to the residence to change, and essentially pretend to go to bed.

"There you are," He was greeted at the door to the residence by Alex, throwing her arms up around
his neck and kissing him hello.

"Oh, hello," Fitz managed, taken slightly off-guard, "Crap. We were supposed to have dinner."

"Yes, you forget?" Alex asked, and he could see her face already upset.

"No – I just got busy," He told her, taking a deep breath.

"You know, I heard a rumor from one of the staff today," She said, and he exhaled – this wasn't going
to be good, "That you call Olivia Pope every night."

"Just about," Fitz swallowed, "We're friends – we're…"

"Ex-lovers?"

"You already knew that."

"I didn't know you called her every night."

"Liv's –" Fitz took a deep breath, "Liv's important, ok? We've been friends, the friends part of our
previous relationship – I wouldn't be able to survive if I couldn't keep that. Neither of us would. This
is why I didn't want to give you a commitment, Alex. I can't survive without Liv – and having her still
in the picture isn't fair to anyone."

"And you expect me to be ok with this? I thought it was done."

"I'm sorry if I made you think that," He said, taking a deep breath, "It's just been talking. I – "

"So, no dinner then."

"No dinner," Fitz said, stretching his back slightly, "I have a meeting I have to get back to, anyway. I'm
really sorry, Alex. It's just – there's nothing that she could do – I this for sure now – that could
possibly make me love her less. And there's nothing I can do about it either. Which sucks, and I cannot
express to you enough how sorry I am."

"I'm sorry too," Alex said, taking a deep breath, "I think we would have been good together."

"Yeah, me too," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, because he knew it was the truth.

There was a heaviness as he walked into his closet, and started grabbing clothes more suitable for the
evening's activities than his usual suit. He had just pulled on a black sweatshirt when Tom walked in.

"I figure you would want this – not in front of Ballard," He said, handing him a rather heavy duty
looking bullet proof vest, "You can put it under your sweatshirt. And don't forget your gun."

"I wasn't about to," Fitz told him as he put the vest on underneath his sweatshirt as quickly as
possible.

"Mr. President," Jake said as Fitz and Tom joined the rest of them where Lauren had been told to
bring his guests.

They had decided that the least anyone outside of their group knew, the better. That even meant
Lauren, who knew that something was up, just was more used to the secrecy. If they had asked her,
there was a reasonable chance that she just simply did not want to know. In all that was going on, he
had come to know Lauren's 'I'd really rather not know' face quite well. It usually showed up whenever
Olivia decided to show up to the Oval.

"Jake," Fitz acknowledged him civilly, "Thank you both for coming."

"Anything for Liv," Quinn said, and Fitz nodded/

"I picked you all because of your loyalty," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "Either to me, or to Liv.
The plan for tonight is to see if she's even there. If we determine that she is, we call in backup."

"So the President of the United States isn't going full Rambo on us," Jake teases, and Quinn rolled her
eyes.

"Like Tom would let that happen."

"If she's there," Tom took a breath, "The plan is to remove the entire team, and wait for backup."

"We all pull out," Fitz reiterated, looking directly at Jake.

"I understand," Jake replied, "So what're we taking – Presidential Limousine is kinda a nonstarter
here."

"Yeah, we're taking one of the vans," Fitz replied, looking over at Huck.

"We're stealing a Secret Service SWAT van?" Jake questioned.

"We're borrowing it," Huck replied, and Fitz nodded.

For some reason Fitz had this memory. He was clinging to it as they all slipped out a back exit down
to the basement. It was of Olivia, in the morning. It stuck out in his brain, because there weren't all
that many mornings that he had been able to spend with her in bed – but his brain might have strung a
few different moments together. But there she was, in the center of his brain, leaning up against the
headboard with the covers all up around her, and he was standing in the bathroom doorway. He
guessed that it might be from a campaign stop, a trip to Camp David, or a weekend that Mellie was
out of town. He wished he could remember which, but he kind of liked that he couldn't. Either way, he
had just gotten out of bed to brush his teeth before she woke up. So It was early, probably a campaign
stop.

"I can't believe you let me wake up alone," Olivia teased him, as he stood in the doorway, having to
lean against the frame to stay standing, she was so beautiful.

"I'm sorry," He said, with a small smile as he slinked away from the doorway, and slipped onto the
bed with her, "Here."

He offered up his arms, and she cuddled up into them as he pressed his cheek on the side of her head.

"Livy?" He asked, and she hummed her inquisitive reply, "Is there anything on the schedule today?"

"Nothing until tonight," Olivia said.

"Good," He kissed the side of her neck, "Now what can I do to make it up to you?"

"You could kiss me for a while," She said, and he smiled, then watched her took down, "Then maybe
a little…"

"Really?" He asked, and she smiled as he rolled so they were eye to eye.

"You're very good at - that," She said, kissing him quickly.

"Am I?" He was genuinely surprised, "Ok, but then, there's a whole bunch of nature trails behind the
hotel. Maybe we could go for a little hike?"

"Ok," Olivia said, taking a breath.

"Say in about twenty minutes we get ready to go?" He asked, already starting to kiss her, his hand
traveling low under the sheets.
"Mmm," She breathed against his mouth, "Thirty."

"I'll take it."

That's when his memory went a little screwy, and he wasn't entirely sure they had made it to a hike
that morning, but remembered one distinctively. So maybe it was a few things this brain had decided
to store together. He took a breath, riding shot gun with a van full of people on a Rambo mission to
get Liv back. Because mornings like that were what he was fighting for, and even the evenings that
they had screamed at each other until they were both hoarse were why he was riding with his stomach
in his throat knowing this might be a suicide mission. Because any morning where he woke up
knowing it was impossible to have her, even if they were fighting, even if she wouldn't talk to him –
she had to be alive. She had to be somewhere – somewhere he could get to her – because otherwise
there was no point. No point in anything. Elliot would probably be screaming at him, but he wasn't
sure he would change it, even if he could.

"Sir," Tom spoke up as he parked about a half mile from the warehouse.

"We should go in teams," Jake said.

"We have an odd number," Huck pointed out.

"Right," Jake replied, then took a breath, "I'll go first, then Huck and Quinn, and Mr. President, you
and Tom should come in last."

"Like hell," Fitz spat.

"Mr. President," Tom spoke up, "That really is safest. We're not even sure she's here."

"Fine," Fitz said, but he wasn't happy about it, and Jake gave him a look like he didn't have time to
explain why it was a good plan.

Fitz knew why it was a good plan – the 'smart' plan. It was the smart plan because there was a chance
they'd be shot down, and this way Jake, on his lonesome would be the target, in which case he and
Tom wouldn't have even left the van. They were treating him like the kid on the mission, but really
how was any of them going to explain why the President of the United States was shot down on a
recon mission that otherwise might have had nothing to do with him. Who let him out? Did they
kidnap him? Sure, it made sense. But he still didn't like not being able to lead the mission.

"Don't worry about it, Mr. President," Tom said, once they were alone in the Van, watching the
cameras as the two parties approached the warehouse, "There's plenty to search."

"I know," Fitz said, watching Jake clear the front of the warehouse, and opening up the door to go out.

"Remember, sir," Tom told him as they climbed out, "Don't hesitate, for anything."

"I know," Fitz told him, as they got out and started navigating through a lightly wooded area.
The moon was bright, which was good – they didn't need any extra lights. In Fitz's hustle, they ended
up making it to the warehouse about the same time as Huck and Quinn. Jake had already jimmied the
door open, and was waiting inside. The top priority was seeing if Liv was there, which was doubtful
now they'd made it in without running into anybody, and the second priority, though no one was saying
it, was keeping him alive and returning him safely to the White House. He understood this as Jake
volunteered to canvas the third floor, Quinn and Huck the second, and he and Tom were to look
around the first floor, and wait for everyone to check the basement.

"What do you think?" Fitz whispered, gun out as he and Tom headed around a corner, "They'd have
guards on her, right?"

"Who knows."

"What's the point of taking her if they're going to leave her unguarded…. Unless there's nothing to
guard."

Fitz swallowed hard.

"She's alive," Tom replied, as they headed into the first room, which was empty, "What's the point of
just taking and killing her without asking for anything?"

"Huck said that, too," Fitz replied, as they started into the next little room, which was also empty,
"Why wouldn't they have asked for something by now? God, and apparently they know they've got me
on my knees."

"I'm sure they've got their reasons."

"Crazy reasons," Fitz said, and Tom nodded in agreement.

Tom also mumbled something that ended in 'Mr. President'

Fitz was about to ask him what he meant when he heard something. It was faint, a woman screaming –
hoarse. There was a pain to it, like she had been screaming for a while. Fitz took off in her direction,
Tom trailing behind him until he got to the door it seemed to be coming from and kicked it in. Tom at
his shoulder, he flicked on the light. Olivia was tied up, and gagged and blind folded in the corner of
the room. He scanned quickly to make sure that no one else was there, and he rushed over to her,
taking off her blind fold. She was dehydrated, and not alright. He had to get her out, and to a doctor.
Probably a private one. He stooped down and untied the gag from her mouth

"Tom, she can't walk – help me get her up," Fitz said, "And radio the others to tell them we found her.
Tom? Tom – "

Fitz froze, turning to look back at Tom, and stood back up – blocking Olivia from view.

"What would the point be, Mr. President?" Tom asked, "Of killing you without doing it in front of the
daughter of Command? Without the poetry? Without her seeing the damage of her coming back when
she was sent away does. Everything could have been ok, Mr. President."
The confusion hit Fitz like a boulder, but once Tom had emptied a round into his vest – in the sternum.
The force of the bullet made him step back, but then he pulled the trigger, shooting Tom in the head
before Tom ran out of warnings to give. He had known. He had known from the beginning where this
was headed. And Fitz was frozen, leaning against the wall as Olivia screamed. It occurred to him
only after a few minutes of shock that Olivia hadn't known he was wearing a vest, and he dropped to
his knees to show her as Jake, Huck, and Quinn appeared in the doorway, standing over Tom's body.

"We have to get her out of here," Fitz said, still gasping slightly for air – the vest could do nothing
about the force, and he was only now getting his wind back.

"We have to get you both out of here," Jake said, turning to Huck, "You'll take care of him?"

"No need. They'll be by to pick him any minute. We should be gone by then."
 17. Chapter 17
A/n: Just chipping away over here…short but kind of sweet… enjoy : )

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Seventeen

Huck had insisted on bringing everyone back to the White House, without stopping at a hospital. Fitz,
while he wanted Olivia checked out, had to agree that that was probably the safest place for them to
go. Jake seemed adamant about it, which he hated, but couldn't disagree with the logic. It was also a
place where they could be treated, and taken care of in private. Fitz had sat, in a vast difference to
riding shotgun, in the back of the van with Olivia curled up into his chest. His heart was still racing,
but he had been trying to calm himself down by reminding himself that while he and Jake were sitting
in the back with her and Huck while Quinn drove the van back across the city, Olivia had looked up,
and consciously scooted over to him. Jake had had to carry her out of the warehouse, because he
tried, and had ended up needing to use Huck as a crutch the rest of the way out. All that mattered was
that they were out, and now Olivia was lying in his arms. Safe.

"What's the plan from here?" Huck asked, apparently not sure whether he should be looking to Jake or
Fitz, so he settled for staring vaguely in both of their directions.

"We get back to the White House, and summon the doctor," Fitz replied, Olivia now sound asleep in
his arms.

"After that," Jake said, and Fitz narrowed his gaze.

"After that? It's over," He told them, "We have Olivia back."

"Mr. President, Agent Larson was a double agent with the Secret Service and B613," Jake replied,
quickly, "Which is why I pulled him aside when you came out to the cabin. Agent Larson was a good
man, I'm sorry he's dead. But he's better off dead now then dead later."

"What?" Fitz asked.

"It was a set up," Huck spoke up, "Agent Larson knew where Olivia was being kept, he told me. He
told me that her father was using her to lure you out of the White House – out in the open. He didn't
say as much, but I would assume that Agent Larson, the agent you trusted the most was commissioned
to kill you. Either kill you, or the hole – or worse."

"How do you know that?"

"Because that's how it works," Jake said matter-o-factly, seeming more than a little annoyed that Fitz
wouldn't know this, "He uses who you love, and who you trust to hurt you. He used Larson, who you
trusted above everyone else, to try and kill you – who his daughter who disobeyed – "
Jake broke off for a second, and Fitz watched him swallow.

"Who his daughter, who disobeyed, and needed to be taught a lesson loves above everything in her
life," Jake said, taking a deep breath, "I should have seen that it was a set up."

"I did," Huck replied, "But we had to walk into it. If not – he would have sent the President Olivia's
head in a box. Or something equally as awful."

"But what about Jamesson?"

"Died three years ago," Huck replied, like it was old news.

"You all just let me walk in to – "

"It was a risk," Quinn said, "But it was best if you and Jake were left in the dark. You would be the
most emotional, and we needed it to be convincing if we were going to get you back. And Tom
seemed to think that you wouldn't shoot him if you knew – and if he wasn't going to kill you. There are
worst fates than death."

"But we have her back."

"Yes, but now we know for sure that Rowan means to have you killed. He didn't intervene," Jake told
him, "That's not a list most people survive."

"He wanted a show –" Fitz started, then broke off as Jake cut him off.

"And as long as Olivia Pope is the woman sleeping in your arms, then the show goes on."

This brought them, in a mostly awkward silence, to when Quinn was permitted in to park in the White
House basement. The van safely back where it was supposed to be, Huck carried Olivia, and Jake
assisted him up into the elevator. The secrecy that they had left with was gone and in the wind,
without much of a thought. He was just determined to get Olivia up to the residence, with the least
amount of cameras were. They traipsed up, and Fitz led them, the pain in his chest smaller by then to
his bedroom, where Huck could lay Olivia on the bed. Fitz then called down on the phone to request
the on call doctor. Olivia was awake now, barely. She seemed to understand where she was, and she
looked over at him, thankfully.

"It's all going to be ok, Livy," He promised, as he slipped up onto the bed with her, and she slipped up
into his arms again – he realized then it was her being scared.

She was terrified, and now that he could see her in proper lighting, her arm was bent a strange way he
knew meant it was broken. She was holding it to her chest as she leaned into him.

"Don't sleep yet, Livy," He whispered into her hair, "The doc's on his way up, ok?"

She murmured something, then nodded.

"Should we go?" Quinn asked.

"No," Fitz said, "Stay the night. All of you. There's enough bedrooms. We can all talk about 'what
comes next' in the morning. Hopefully Olivia will be in better shape to talk to us then."

They disbursed, leaving him alone with Olivia for a few minutes before the doctor came in. He
sighed, looking over at her. The doctor, as per usual, showed up with a full get up, like a miniature
ambulance in a bag. He looked at Fitz, who told him to take care of Olivia first. Turns out Olivia was
severely dehydrated, and he set up an IV right there on the side of the bed, he also set her arm, and
checked her for any other damages. She started to perk up a bit once the second bag of fluids was
going into her, and the doctor came over to check on Fitz. Fitz told him that he had been hit in the
chest, and the doctor deduced that Fitz had a bruised sternum, and probably a few bruised ribs.
Nothing broken, and while he wanted to bring Fitz to the hospital, he declined.

"Sir, please," The doctor said, and Olivia sat up a bit, "Both of you should probably take a ride to the
hospital. She'll be ok. All her wounds are mostly superficial, minus the dehydration and arm, which
have been taken care of…."

"She'll be ok?" Fitz asked, and the doctor nodded, "Good. I'll be ok, too. We're not going to the
hospital tonight."

"Fitz, you should go," Olivia said, her voice hoarser than usual, the IV still in her arm.

"No," Fitz replied, digging in his heels.

"Ok," The doctor went over and removed her IV, "Just drink about seven hundred and fifty milliliters
of water before you call it a night, ok?"

"Ok," Olivia replied, her throat still sounded dry as the doctor left, and Fitz got up off of the bed, "We
should talk."

"We should," He said, on his way out of the room.

"Where are you going?" She called after him.

"To get you some water," He called back, over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen.

He grabbed a wine bottle off the rack, and emptied it into something else before rinsing it out, and
filling it with water from the fridge. He smirked slightly as he brought it back to her, and handed it
over.

"Wine?"

"Not wine," He said, shutting the door and climbing back up onto the bed, "Water. I thought it might be
a little more comforting to drink it out of there."

"You're funny," She said in her dry sarcasm that made him happier than it should.
"Just drink it," He said, letting his head fall into the pillow.

"Fine," Olivia replied, starting to sip at it.

"I'll get you whatever kind of wine you want tomorrow," He promised, "Just drink that for now."

"Are you going to tell me what the hell just happened?" She asked, and he sighed, "Are Huck and Jake
here?"

"Why don't you tell me?" He asked, "Jake, Huck, and Quinn are all staying in the house tonight. I'm
sure I can get Jake to come and sit with you if you'd rather him…"

"Shut up," Olivia rolled her eyes, "He'd be here if I wanted him."

"So?"

"All I remember is waking up in that room," Olivia told him, and Fitz nodded, "And I was in there for
a while – a day maybe? And then you were there, and you got shot – but you're ok, and Tom – "

"You don't remember anything else?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"It was just – dark. It was like – everything Huck had told me about the hole," She took a deep breath,
"I can't imagine being in there for months at a time. I can't – "

He heard her words getting caught in her throat, and scooted over to put his arms around her. She
snuggled into him, positioned so that she could still drink, slowly, from her bottle.

"Ok," He said, kissing her forehead, not wanting her to say any more, "I think – I think this was a plan
for a long time. It was your father, it – he came to me, when you disappeared. He told me where to
look. He planted Tom to lead me right to you. But Tom – Tom was training me with a gun. He gave me
a vest."

"Tom saved you," Olivia said, "My father knows you'd do anything…"

"If something was happening to you, I would have let him shoot me. Point blank, middle of the damn
day," Fitz said, more to himself than to her, "Tom knew that, and so did your father. Tom was a double
agent. I guess he chose my side."

"Ok," Olivia replied, and Fitz watched her face while she processed for a minute.

"Listen, this is why they're staying over tonight," Fitz said, "We don't have to talk about anything until
the morning, ok?"

"Alright," Olivia took another sip of her water, then looked up at him, "Thank you, for coming after
me."

"What else was I going to do?" He replied and she leaned up and kissed him, softly on the lips, "…
Livy…"

"What?"

"I can't," He told her, slipping back from having his arms around her, leaving about a foot between
them, "I can't-"

"You can't what?"

"I can't do this again," He replied, taking a deep breath, deeper than he should have because a sharp
pain shot through his chest, "I love you, Livy. I want you to be safe, and warm – but I can't do us
again. I can't go through it all – I just can't. I love being with you. I'm more in love with you than I can
even explain. But I can't chase you right now. You're always going to be running away, and until I can
chase after you when you do … I can't just sit around and watch you run in and out of my life. Not
anymore."

Olivia was quiet. They were both quiet for a while.

"Listen, I'm going to sleep the next bedroom over," He said, sliding off the bed, "Drink that, and let
me know if you need anything."

"No," Olivia said, as Fitz reached the door, and he turned around.

"No, what?"

"Stay here, with me," She said, and Fitz sighed.

"I'll sit in the chair until you fall asleep."

"In bed?" She requested, and he sighed.

"Liv, I'm being serious."

"I know you are," She said, "But I'm – scared. I want someone with me, and I want it to be you."

Fuck.

"No funny business," He teased her, shutting off the light, and walking back over to crawl into bed.

"Hold me?"

He wasn't sure why she asked. It was fairly clear that she was going to be able to get whatever the
hell she wanted out of him tonight, no matter what he said. He took a deep breath and rolled so that he
was spooning her, holding her gently enough that he wouldn't hurt either of them any further, but just
enough so that she knew he was there. He even added a small kiss to the back of her neck for good
measure, or because he couldn't help himself – it was one of the two, and he wasn't really sure which
it was. He was tired, and didn't have the mental capacity to wonder any more, so he buried his nose
into her hair, and fell asleep.
 18. Chapter 18
A/N: chip chip chip **wipes excess letters from chisel and hammer** … enjoy : )

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Eighteen

Fitz woke up the next morning to noises in the kitchen, something he hadn't done since Karen and
Gerry were home for the summer, the year before last. He took a deep breath, realized he was still
holding Olivia, who was a little bit tighter to him than he remembered holding her when he fell
asleep. It was just so damn easy though, holding her. Lying with her. More than half of him just wanted
to pretend he didn't hear everyone out in the kitchen, and see how long she would pretend along with
him. Instead, he prayed she was still sleeping, and kissed the top of her head before removing his
arms from around her. He knew how much she hated waking up alone if she didn't fall asleep that
way, but he wanted to let her sleep. So he waited a few minutes, missing out on the conversation in
the kitchen until Olivia started to stir, and Fitz laid back down, facing her like he hadn't just separated
himself from her on purpose.

"Good morning," He told her, and she made a face, and tried to stretch, "I think everyone's out in the
kitchen, we should probably get out there."

"We should," Olivia said, then seemed to realize that she was wearing his old t-shirt, and a pair of hid
pajama pants.

"I can get you a robe," He told her, "But then we'll have to send someone for some of your clothes, or
something."

"Right."

"The clothes you were in were…"

"Ruined," She said, "I remember."

He nodded. They made themselves presentable in almost complete silence. Fitz thought about
throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweater, something casual, but decided against it. If Olivia was
going out there in a bathrobe, and everyone out there was most likely wearing what they had been last
night. He took a breath, and simply put on a pair of sweat pants before giving Olivia his robe and
walking behind her out into the kitchen. Quinn was, apparently, making eggs – which surprised Fitz
because he wasn't previously sure that there was any actual food in the residence, and Jake and Huck
were sitting at the island. He and Olivia walked over, and stood on the other side, blocking the mostly
unused sink.

"Everyone sleep alright?" Jake asked, playfully, "I mean, since we're in a place where he can get to
us, he just can't kill any of us?"
"It's like the Vampire waiting outside in the horror movie," Quinn quipped as she started shoveling
eggs out onto plates from a fairly large skillet.

"We need ah – plan," Huck said, and Fitz crossed his arms across his chest.

"Well that's a pretty easy one," Fitz told him, then purposefully looked away from Olivia, down at the
ground, "We're going to kill Eli Pope."

"Fitz – " Jake started.

"What? You have a better plan?" Fitz asked, "The man has put a target on my back, a target on Liv's
back, and probably one on every person in this room. People he wants dead don't last very long…so I
guess we're just going to have to kill him."

"Killing him isn't nearly as easy as you think," Jake argued, "Don't you think someone would have
proposed it before, and already done it if it were?"

"I tried, once," Huck said, in a distant voice.

"None of you are leaving this house until we have a plan that's going to work, understood?" Fitz said,
looking around the room, but mostly at Olivia, "I'm not prepared to lose any of you."

The mumbles of agreement came from everyone without too much hesitation, and Fitz nodded as he
went for his coffee, which was made every morning on a timer. There was silence only for a few
moments before there was an eruption of ideas, stories, tidbits, and plans coming from just about
every person in the room. Everyone had the best idea, everyone was certain that their plan would be
the one that would save the day. And everyone had at least ten reasons per other person why the other
people's plans were insane. Olivia was in a shouting match with Jake, Huck and Quinn were arguing
about something else – and then they would rotate. Fitz wasn't sure congress was this bad, and he
wondered how Olivia got anything done – ever.

"Everyone shut up," Fitz said, his voice slightly louder and more authoritative than he would have
usually used with any of them, "Go and think your plans out, we'll have a meeting later where we can
work on what we're going to do next. Dinner. Tonight."

"Holy Mother of God," Cyrus had appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, and he looked around at the
faces, "Who's dead?"

"Cy – " Olivia started, but Cyrus put up a finger.

"This kitchen right here? This is what my nightmares are filled with, all you people showing up hear
this morning, and I don't think you just showed up," Cyrus said, "I think you all spent the night, judging
by Liv's attire. So I'm asking who's dead because, with all of you here, you all must have had a busy
night. So I want to know who you killed. So maybe, I can help you out."

"Tom," Jake answered for the group.

"Tom?" Cyrus repeated, looking over at Fitz, "The secret service agent?"

"Secret Service, and B613," Olivia filled him in, and Cyrus nodded as he picked Fitz's mug from his
hand, stealing his coffee as he sat down at the island.

"Of course," He replied, "You know what? I don't really want to know. I'll have the secret service
assign a new agent to you, Mr. President. And I'll look into their military history myself."

"Thanks, Cy," Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded.

"Anything else I can do to help?" He asked, and sounded as if he had just been beaten too many times
to continue to care.

"Not right now," Fitz told him.

"Well, eat some eggs and get dressed, Sir," Cyrus told him, "You have a country to run, and you tend
not to make it any easier on yourself, do you? You have a meeting in the Oval in twenty minutes."

"Shit," Fitz said, having completely forgotten, and he left to get a shower, leaving everyone in the
kitchen to do so.

It wasn't until he was in the shower that he realized just how awful his chest looked. There was an
enormous purple blotch on his sternum, and it radiated out just a little bit, red on the edges. Somehow
being more aware of it made it hurt more, and he took a small breath as to not aggravate it. He knew
that it was much less pain, and damage than the bullet would have done. He walked into the Oval
about five minutes before the start of the meeting, where he was supposed to discuss political strategy
with some staffers, and Alex. Alex would be there. He took a deeper breath, causing a harsh pain in
his chest, as he remembered that she would – most likely – be at the meeting as he read over the notes
Cyrus had put on his desk.

"Sir," Lauren walked into the office, slowly.

"Yes, Lauren?" Fitz replied, putting the notes down on his desk – it was useless, he couldn't
concentrate on which rallies he would be attending in the next three months, not with everything else
that was going on.

"Have you heard from Tom?" She asked, "It's just – he was supposed to be on this morning, and I
think he was with you last night. And – "

Fitz froze.

"He broke up with me, Mr. President," She said, "About a week ago, and it's not that. I promise, I'm
not being – I just feel like something's wrong."

Fitz didn't need Olivia there whispering the answers to him to know what he had to say. And it hurt.

"I'm not sure," Fitz said, "I was only with him until about ten last night."
"Ok," She said, looking on the verge of tears.

"You can take the day, if you'd like," Fitz told her, "Cyrus and I can manage the schedule for today and
the weekend. It's a Friday, light day."

"Thank you, sir," She replied, leaving the room as Cyrus walked in, leading a pack of Republican
Leaders.

"Good morning," they all seemed to chirp, including Alex – who was doing an excellent job of
pretending that everything was fine.

The meeting was going on better than Fitz had expected, with Cyrus doing most of the talking for him.
Allowing him to attempt, and completely fail, to focus in on what was going on. Instead, his brain was
filled with Lauren crying, Olivia in her weakened state from the night before, Tom's dead body on the
floor of a storage locker, and what possible burials B613 would have for him. He should have
insisted they taken the body. But how would they have explained that? They'd explained away worse.
Tom had saved his life, twice, in the obvious sense. He had saved Liv. There were ample times that
Tom protected him from quickly escalating situations. Tom deserved a hero's burial, not a shallow
grave somewhere in the park. Or maybe worse, if Eli had registered Tom's somewhat sly betrayal. He
might just be dumped in the marsh.

"Good morning," Mellie said, beaming like a beauty queen as she walked into the Oval.

"Mellie, what're you doing here?" Cyrus asked for Fitz, who could feel himself being backed into the
corner with every step she took.

"Just stopping in," She smiled, and Fitz rolled his eyes – he was not ready for Mellie's version of
politics, not today – but she wasn't going anywhere before she made herself sound smart in front of
everyone, "Alex, right? I think you're the only one I haven't met…"

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, and Cyrus tried to continue the meeting. It lasted for all of
five minutes more – and all Mellie could do was shoot passive aggressive comments towards Alex.
Who, Fitz kept giving apologetic glances. He guessed whoever told Alex about his phone calls with
Olivia, had also decided to tell Mellie about his interactions with Alex. The more he thought about it,
which he admittedly hadn't until then, the more he realized that it had probably been Cyrus. He took a
deep breath, shooting up prayers like they were flares from a gun, that he would make it through this
meeting. Where was Eli trying to kill him when he needed it?

"Mr. President," Olivia walked into the room, apparently having had someone bring her her own
clothing – thank God – why again had he told Lauren to take the day off?, "We have a situation."

The look in her eyes told him that it was important, so he looked over at Cyrus.

"I'm sorry," Olivia said, with one of her fake, political smiles to the room, "But you're going to have
to continue this meeting another time."
"I didn't know that deciding meeting times was your job," Alex sounded venomous.

Oh, shit.

"Alex," Olivia made a weird sort of smile that could have easily been mistaken for a grimace, "It's
nice to see you again. It's been a long time. But there's a situation right now that requires the
president's attention."

"Requires the president's attention?" Alex replied, clearly trying to undermine Olivia, "But not the
rest of the heads of the party?"

"You two know each other?" Mellie smirked, and Cyrus looked like he was going to be sick.

"Alex and I were the same year at Georgetown Law," Olivia filled them in.

"Alright," Fitz said, "Everyone out, sorry we're just going to have to reschedule this."

"Everyone?" Mellie asked, and Fitz took a deep breath.

"Everyone except Cyrus and Liv," He said, his eyes almost at a roll as everyone who had been sitting
stood up and started to leave.

"What's going on?" Fitz asked, as Mellie – the last one out – closed the door behind herself.

"See for yourself," Olivia said, leading both of them off into Fitz's private study, and opening up the
blinds.

There on the lawn, a story or so below them, was Tom's body sprawled out like he had dropped there.
The secret service had already discovered him, and were marking it off like a crime scene. Except the
body was all cleaned up. He was in a new suit, not a spot of blood on him, and they had covered the
hole in his head with mortuary puddy, or something. It was only after a minute or two that it started to
look strange, like when they placed him there they wanted him to look stiff, his arms down by his
sides. Fitz's mouth was hanging open as he turned around, looking at Olivia, speechless.

"They found him a few minutes ago," Olivia said, "Jake spotted him from one of the windows. Secret
Service is trying to keep it as discrete as possible."

"But?" Fitz asked.

"But there were a few photographers by the gates," She said, and Fitz hung his head up towards the
ceiling.

"Which is going to be nothing once they find the bullet from my personal gun in his skull," Fitz
replied, and Cyrus looked alarmed.

"They won't find it," Olivia said, and Fitz raised an eyebrow, "My father wants us dead, not
imprisoned. There's no bullet. It was probably removed with surgical precision… it's – "
"What?"

"It's his way of telling us he knows exactly how everything went down last night," Olivia told him,
"It's – it's him returning our soldier. It's him declaring war."

"He declared war the minute he showed up here like he was trying to help," Fitz told her, and her
mouth fell open, "Tell everyone to get together, we don't have the time to wait for tonight."

"They're already gathered up in the residence," Olivia told him.

"I'll cancel the rest of your day," Cyrus said, "And be up as soon as I can get there. I'll have a lot of
covering to do."

Fitz nodded, then followed Olivia up towards the residence. He arrived to Jake standing in his living
room with an old easel that had been Karen's, and a Sharpie. Huck was tucked down on the chair,
hacking away on his laptop, while Quinn seemed to be the only one who was waiting for them to
arrive. Fitz walked in and sat down on the back of the couch, his feet down on the cushions, and
Olivia sat down on the next one over.

"We need to treat him like any other target, is what we've come up with," Jake said, a vague outline
was set up on the board, "It seems to be the only thing that we can agree on, so that's where we're
going to start. And since we don't have the luxury of staking him out like a normal target, we have to
go on what we know – which bectween all of us, might be enough. We need an outline of his day.
Everyone has their routines, even Command. We need to have a good idea of what he's doing every
minute, got it? Let's start with Huck."

"From the video surveillance we had," Huck said, "It looks like he goes to breakfast. Every morning
at a diner near the Smithsonian."

"To keep up appearances," Olivia sounded like she was remembering something from a long time ago,
"Then he clocks in at the Smithsonian around eight or nine in the morning. Obviously, he doesn't stay
there, though."

"He arrives at Acme Limited about ten," Jake added, "It's only a five minute drive. He must do some
convincing on the job."

"He supposedly cleans up fossils," Olivia said, "He probably does something to do with that for
about forty five minutes before slipping out. Goes to do pretend research or something."

"Ok," Quinn said, "But as long as he's inside B613's headquarters, there's going to be no getting to
him."

"Or at last no getting to him, and getting out alive," Huck voiced.

"Where does he go from there?" Jake asked, and he sounded like he was musing it over.

"Well, we know where he is at night," Quinn replied, "Hides under kids' mattresses, and in their
closets."

"That's when he does the majority of the actual work," Fitz spoke up, "If he's coming to threaten me,
or sneaking around trying to get to someone – that's when he does it."

"I was close," Quinn mused.

"Ok, so we have fake work, work, more work," Jake said, then sighed, "We can't beat him when he's
at work, when he's scheming. We may have more people, but he's been the mastermind for years. He
trained all of us in anything that we know about stealth, tracking, and even killing. When does he rest?
If we're going to have any chance at all, we're going to need a certain amount of surprise."

"Satan never sleeps," Fitz said, and

"What surprise?" Quinn asked, "Anything resembling surprise went out the window when he
kidnapped Liv, and put dead Tom on the White House lawn. If I did that I'd be expecting everything.
Even a small top secret aerial attack on my home."

"He's almost never there," Olivia replied, as if she were actually considering it, "I think he was only
ever there to keep up appearances, when he had me for dinner, or had to entertain. Had to seem like a
normal person."

"Maybe that's it," Fitz piped up, "We need to think outside the box. We need to - "

"Fitz?" Jake asked, as he scribbled out a timeline.

"Liv, what does he do weekends?"

"Other than ordering people like Jake and Huck to torture people?" Olivia shrugged.

"He visits a graveyard every Saturday," Huck said, "He tries to keep it random, probably for this
reason, or something like it. But he goes to the graveyard every Saturday, and goes to St. Mary's on
Sundays, probably keeping up appearances. Charlie would know more about any patterns."

"Charlie?" Olivia checked, and Huck nodded.

"I think we're going to need him," Huck replied, "But on a smaller scale. Tom proved that Command
can be tricked, that he can be mistaken about people."
 19. Chapter 19
A/N: Hello, lovelies. Enjoy the chapter : )

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Nineteen

Huck and Quinn had snuck out Monday morning to go and recover the receivers from the cabin so that
they could set them up in Huck's bedroom in the residence. Fitz hadn't heard nearly anything from
anyone all day. He assumed that Olivia was handling the brunt of whatever was going on so that he
could actually be the president. He took a breath as he finished reading the briefing on the new UN
protocols, and he put it into his desk so that he could pick it up again in the morning, and desperately
try and remember as much of it as he could for the meeting in the morning. As he had had to move it,
and invite all of the leaders that would have otherwise been flying to New York to the White House
instead.

"Good evening, Sir," Cyrus said as he walked into the room.

"Hello, Cy," Fitz said, less than happy to see his friend.

"Sir?" Cyrus seemed vaguely alarmed, as if he had stepped on something strange.

"You weren't surprised that Alex and Olivia knew each other," He said, and Cyrus raised his
eyebrows.

"Really, that's what you want to talk about? With everything that's going on?" He asked, and Fitz
shrugged as he leaned back in his chair, "Fine. We can talk about that. Yes, I knew they knew each
other because I introduced them, almost fifteen years ago, when they were both students of mine. Two
of the brightest students I ever had. Beautiful, Smart as whips both of them – but it's an amazing thing
– when you put them in the same room. It's like they turn into angry cats – or pit-bulls that have been
goaded into a fight."

"And you didn't think that was something I should know?"

"Honestly, sir – you didn't ask. And honestly, of all the trouble I keep you out of, I thought I'd let this
one slide," Cyrus said, with a mischievous smile, "You know, the funny part is – I almost called Alex,
to help with the election, in the first place. She was my backup plan if Olivia said no, and couldn't be
persuaded to come. Because Olivia is just a tiny bit better than her, and that makes all the difference.
And now thanks to you, I know that that goes for just about every category."

"Just about – except I never slept with 'Lex, so – sorry there's no notes to compare," Fitz said,
somewhat angrily, "Not that there would be, because I love Olivia. Whether or not I can be with her.
And 'Lex, that was a mistake. Good to know you've been having a laugh, though."
"Oh, I have – Mr. President – because this will solve so many problems," Cyrus told him, "You see, I
told Mellie – which you knew – I assumed you wouldn't care. That's why you haven't brought it up.
But I can't imagine Mellie – the Mellie that we know, who is trying to stitch together a scheme to keep
you from going through with the divorce –God knows why. Anyway, I can't imagine she'd keep her
mouth shut about it for very long…especially now knowing they already don't like each other."

"Fuck," Fitz said, closing his eyes.

"I didn't tell Olivia, I figured you'd want to do that," Cyrus told him, "Don't worry about Alex, she
may turn into an angry bitter person when Olivia is involved, but she won't say anything. She's too
smart, too good for you, Mr. President. Screaming to the papers would only hurt her, and she knows
that. Plus, I think she might have actually liked you, a bit."

"I really hate you sometimes, Cyrus."

"You got into the majority of this one on your own."

"You should probably go," Fitz said, "Before I let myself get angrier about this."

"Yeah," Cyrus said, dropping a folder on his desk, "I'll go. That's for your meeting tomorrow
afternoon. Letters from second graders, they're coming in tomorrow… their class won."

"Got it," Fitz said, as Cyrus hurried out the door.

Fitz left the Oval very shortly after Cyrus left, and headed up to the residence. They had ended up
giving Daniel Tom's old detail, and Fitz couldn't help but miss Tom's silent presence. He couldn't
count the number of times in the past couple of days that he turned around to say something to Tom,
and had to remember that he wasn't there. Because, of course, he was blocking out the fact that he had
shot him in the head. There was also a silence to Daniel that wasn't friendly. They hadn't bonded yet,
and there was no real depth to their relationship other than bodyguard and President. He sighed as he
left Daniel at the door, and walked into the residence. It was quiet, he assumed most of his house
guests had gone to bed, but knew that one of them would be awake. He walked into the room Huck
was occupying, announcing himself with a little knock on the door.

"How is it?" Fitz asked, in a whisper as he noticed Quinn was asleep on the bed, Huck was sitting on
the floor in front of some TVs, all out of view of any of the cameras in the room.

"It's going," Huck replied, "He hasn't removed any of the cameras. Which means one of two things.
Either he doesn't know they're there – or he does, and he doesn't care."

"I'd assume the latter," Fitz told him, and Huck nodded.

"Well, we know he's watching us, too."

"I fixed all the cameras in the residence," Huck replied, "Since all the shades are pulled, and we're
leaving most of the lights off at night. I removed the cameras from this room, which he would have
expected anyway."
"This is the safe room," Fitz nodded, and Huck nodded in affirmation, "Ok, I need some sleep. Is
everyone else already out?"

"I think so," Huck replied as Fitz headed out of the room, closing the door behind him as he headed
towards his own bedroom.

He stopped in the doorway, and realized that the lump in the bed he could see through semi-darkness
was Olivia. He took a breath before sneaking in, and taking a fresh t-shirt and a pair of boxers from
his drawer. He'd sleep in the next room, there was an adjoining door in case she had a nightmare, or
something happened. He would be able to hear her. He paused to watch her for a second, then headed
out of the room. He stepped into the next room and sat on the edge of the bed while it was still dark.
Knowing Eli was most likely watching had forced all of their eyes to adjust to the lack of light. He
had just switched clothes, and crawled into bed when he heard the door creak open. His heart started
racing and he was ready to turn and shoot – his gun in the drawer – but he waited.

There was sound. A light padding of feet on the ground, and he looked up from the sheets to see
Olivia crawling into bed with him. He shouldn't have been surprised. She had done it the past two
nights, but he was jumpy. The first night he watched her walk in, and reminded her that they should
sleep in different bedrooms – not that he really meant it .That night, she had had a nightmare, where
she was screaming in her sleep. He held her tight and tried to wake her but couldn't for about the most
frightening five minutes of his life while she thrashed in his arms. That was when he stopped
reminding her that he was trying to keep his distance. She slipped right into his arms without
speaking.

"I thought you were already asleep," He commented.

"I tried and I couldn't," She replied, and he hummed into her hair.

"It's ok," He told her, kissing her hair, "Don't worry about it. I could use the company, anyway."

"I love you, Fitz."

"You know I'm in love with you, Liv," He replied, "I just – we can't keep ripping each other apart. I –
"

"What?"

He wanted to tell her, he did. If they were going to fix it.

"Fitz, I'm not going anywhere any time soon," Olivia promised him, and he couldn't help but think that
he'd heard that before – which made his blood temperature rise.

"Don't say shit you don't mean, Liv," Fitz told her, "Please. It – "

"I do mean it."

"Really?" Fitz said, taking a deep breath, shifting back and leaving a little space between them in bed,
"Because I don't believe a word like that that comes out of your mouth. Because every single time that
I have tried to make a move towards making 'us' work, you've turned around and ran away. Instead of
voicing your concerns about it, you make a deal with someone else, and you leave. Often without my
having anything to say about it. That's not how a relationship should work, Liv. That's not – that's not
what I want. Like I said the other night, it would be one thing if I could chase you. I promise you I
would play cat and mouse with you however long you wanted. But I'm tied. I'm – "

"You have a reason why I would leave," Olivia said, and Fitz rolled his eyes in the dark.

"A reason you might," He replied, "But not a reason I would leave – which is the point that's driving
me crazy, Liv."

"What did you do?"

"I had a relationship with someone else," He told her, "The past two months, I was - casually - seeing
Alex Wyman."

"What?"

"I didn't know you knew each other," Fitz started to explain.

"Did you sleep with her?" Olivia asked.

"No," He replied, "We – made out. That was about the extent of it."

"About?"

"That was it, couple dinners a week."

"It's over now?"

"Yes."

"Ok," Olivia said, taking a deep breath, "Are we even now?"

"Even?" Fitz asked, and he could hear his own heart breaking in his own voice, "What do you mean
even?"

"I didn't know Jake was your friend, which is probably worse than someone you already hated,"
Olivia replied, "And – we did leave together. Because he was easier. That was what Alex was, right?
Because she was easier? The whole situation, it was just -easier."

"It was. It was easier. But I hope you know it wasn't to get even, and I don't like the idea of that," He
replied, "But I also realized…It's not worth it if it's not you. What I'm saying is – once I can chase you
– you better watch your ass. If you still want me at all. I just can't watch you walk away again and not
be able to do anything about it."
"Fitz," Olivia whispered, slipping closer to him, curling up against his chest, "You're never going to
have to watch me go away again, babe."

"It's going to take a while before I believe that," Fitz took her back into his arms.

"I can live with that," She mumbled into his chest, "But I'm done running. It's exhausting, and you're
right – it's not worth it."

She had her cast up against his chest, lightly, as to not add to the bruise on his chest. But she tucked
her other hand underneath his shirt. Her hand was warm against his skin. He smiled, and leaned into
her touch. He slipped one hand down, covering the small of her back with his open palm, protecting
her shoulders with his arm. She tipped her head up just as he was going to kiss her head, and their
lips met in the dark. There was nothing quite like the feeling of her soft lips on his. It was light,
gentle. Like she was afraid that he was going to pull away. His brain told him that it was probably a
good idea, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She started to play, lightly, with his lower lip. He
paused slightly, but she kept going. Until she had her tongue to the corner of his mouth, playing with
his upper lip. Her hand had by then reached the more sensitive side of his ribcage, up near his chest
where she knew brought him to shambles.

"Fuck, Liv," He breathed against her lips before he began to kiss her back, slow, and sweet – painful
as it was.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," She whispered between kisses, skimming her hand over the muscles in his
shoulder, his abs.

"Stop. Apologizing," He breathed as he wrenched his lips from hers, then set his chin on top of her
head, he could feel her starting to nibble on the side of his neck, "Livy, sleep. It's alright."

"I know-"

"What?" He asked, she had cut off quickly.

"Do you think he wire tapped the place, or just tapped into the cameras?" Olivia asked, and Fitz
furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?" Fitz asked, "I don't know – you know him better than me."

"I'll be right back," Olivia said, getting out of bed, and Fitz followed her.

"What's going on?" He asked, following her into Huck's room.

"Huck?"

"Y-yes?" Huck replied, he had evidently passed out on the floor, Jake had been watching the cameras.

"What's going on?" Jake asked, and Fitz took a deep breath.
"Is there a possibility that the place isn't tapped for sound?" Olivia asked, and Jake and Huck both
looked at each other.

"Don't know how it would be," Jake replied, "Bugs are widely unreliable – usually a waste of time
unless you're listening in for short periods of time. For as long as he's been watching us, it would be a
useless effort. Especially if he's just tapping into the security cameras that are already there."

"Is there a way you can check?" Olivia asked.

"What's going on?" Fitz wasn't sure why, but there was an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"We can do a sweep tomorrow," Jake said, "Huck, Quinn, and I can sweep the residence, and the
Oval."

"Ok, thanks," Olivia replied, taking Fitz's hand and leading him back out of the room.

"What the heck was that?" Fitz asked, as they climbed into bed.

"I might have a plan," Olivia replied, snuggling back up to him.

"Would you like to share?"

"Not yet."

"I'm not going to like it, am I?"

"Probably not."
 20. Chapter 20
A/N: Hello, lovelies… I'm just going to keep chipping. But enjoy the chapter….

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Twenty:

Fitz wandered into the kitchen the next morning, having briefly woken up Olivia, to tell her that he had
to get up. He walked into the kitchen, grabbing his cup of coffee, and debating going bac in to sit on
the bed with Olivia while he drank it. He was leaning on the island, and drinking his little cup of
coffee until – and he hoped it would be quick – hit his nervous system quickly – so that his brain
would wake up a bit. Footsteps in the hallway meant that someone else was up. He thought maybe it
was Olivia, but he didn't flinch as Jake walked in, going to the pot of coffee and pouring himself a
cup. There was a silence in the room that was heavier than it would have been.

"I see you and Liv have made up," Jake said, with a smirk a little too smug for Fitz's liking.

"We chatted for a while last night," Fitz replied, and Jake chuckled.

"You look like you did more than chat," Jake said, and Fitz furrowed his brow.

"You're a guest in this house," Fitz reminded him, "And I wouldn't push it. Not when I'm already not
too thrilled to have you here."

"Go ahead, kick me out," Jake commented, and Fitz narrowed his eyes, "I dare you because, what
happens to me? When you kick me out? Because yes, she chose you, but I don't think she'll be too
happy to hear that I'm dead, and it's your fault."

"My fault?" Fitz could feel his teeth hitting each other as he spoke, "Where the hell are you coming
from? Cut the shit."

Fitz only realized that they had been yelling as Olivia walked out into the kitchen.

"Stop the yelling," She sounded angry, and both of them stopped, relaxed their shoulders, and looked
over at her, "It is five'o'clock in the morning. It is quiet, people can hear you both. There's people in
this house other than the five of us, you two need to remember that."

"Sorry," Fitz said, looking down.

"Sorry," Jake repeated.

"Fitz," Olivia summoned him over to her with her finger.

He walked over to her, letting her pull him to the hallway, but not out of Jake's view before kissing
him, slowly. There was a weirdness to it that he might not have noticed, except Olivia rarely kissed
him like that in the morning. They were too rushed; they were too busy. That was a nighttime kiss. A
kiss that she might give him once they were in bed, and wrapped up in each other's arms. After they
brushed their teeth, or just after sex. The ones where she would let her lips linger slow, let her tongue
relax with his. Usually, when she was trying to get him to calm down, the kiss was different. It was
more intense, took more of his attention away from what was going on. That was the sort of kiss that
he had been expecting.

"Go get a shower, and down to the office," She told him, her lips still brushing against his as she
spoke, her hands in his hair, "I love you. I will take care of everything here."

"Ok," He said, suddenly sleepy as she kissed him again.

"I love you," She repeated, and he nodded.

"I got it," He said, stress still in his jaw, "I love you, too."

"I can join you, in that shower – if you want," She called after him as he walked away.

"No," He said, wishing that he could bring himself to say yes.

She hadn't said it, the night before, but he had felt it. She didn't ask, when she curled up against him
the night before. But he knew, he just wasn't ready for that again. Once they were sleeping together, he
would lose it. He knew he would lose it. It was like his brain was currently in his skull, where it
belonged, where he could control himself. Once they reopened that particular door of their
relationship, he wasn't exactly sure that his brain would remain his. A portion of his brain was always
actually Olivia's. Like that part that worried about her, the part that loved her, the part that was very
keenly aware of the devastating affect her absence from his life had. He knew all of that. But once that
door opened up, it was like that portion of his brain took over every other part of his brain. He didn't
think properly, and she ended up consuming so much of his life that the damage when she left was like
the aftermath of a tornado. And he couldn't afford to give her that at the moment, it was much too
dangerous a time to not be in his right head. Even if her father weren't trying to kill him, and they
weren't held up in the house to make sure he didn't while they stalled for time – he wasn't sure he
could ever trust her like that again.

He sighed as he arrived in the Oval Office, really wishing that he didn't have to be there for the next
eight hours. He sat down behind his desk and started prepping for his day. He had about forty-five
minutes before Cyrus would burst in with whatever the morning news was most concerned about, and
then it would be meetings, briefings, more meetings, and the visit from the other UN leaders, and he
would still probably be alone in his office reading something dreadfully boring before he headed
back to the residence. At least Olivia was there – in the residence. At least she was something to look
forward to. He ran a hand across his forehead and took a deep breath, peeling his eyes open.

"Good morning."

A familiar voice broke the silence, and Fitz looked up from his desk.
"Alex, what do I owe – "

"I'm just checking in," She replied, and Fitz nodded, "You ok?"

"I'm fine," He lied, but she didn't know him well enough to tell, so she nodded.

"So, what's this I hear about Olivia staying up in the residence?" She asked, trying to keep it casual.

"'Lex," He said, leaning back in his chair, trying to soften the blow with a name she liked.

"I know, we broke up. You're free to do as you please," She said, "I just – I don't think she's good for
you."

"Well, it's not just her," Fitz said, "I have a few house guests at the moment. And I know she's not
good for me – but …"

"You love her," Alex filled in, and Fitz nodded.

"Everything inside of me is screaming to run in the other direction, but – "

"So you're back together?"

"In a way," Fitz told her.

"Sorry to hear that," She gave him a sad sort of look, "But I can't say I'm surprised."

Alex left, and his morning started. Predictable, routine, monotonous to the point where he almost
forgot that he had essentially four super-spies upstairs in the residence, and one in the field that were
hatching a plan that would free him. There would be no one hiding, lurking in the shadows trying to
run his life any more. He and Mellie were signing divorce papers at the end of the week, and then he
was done. He hadn't told anyone yet, but he was going to call it. Mostly, he hadn't told anyone because
he knew no matter who it was, Liv or Cyrus, or anyone – they would try and talk him out of it. The
truth was, he had never wanted the crown of thorns in the first place, and now it just seemed like a
joke. His whole presidency had been a circus act since the day he took the oath. There was no honor,
or glory, and he was tired of it. He was tired of all of it. If he hadn't got tied up with Olivia, and her
father and the mess they were in at the moment, then he would have already left the White House. The
prison, he would have dug out with a spoon if he had to.

"…Liv, I'm serious," He heard Jake as he was coming down the hall towards the residence.

"No, Jake."

"C'mon," Jake said, taking a deep breath, "We can go. Just you and me. What's he going to do then?"

"I'm not going away with you again," Olivia said, and Fitz slipped in the doorway, it sounded like
they were in the kitchen so if he hid and waited in the living room, then he might be able to hear them
without interrupting.
"We had fun – didn't we?" Jake asked, "And I know you don't love him. You can't. You can't love him,
and have had what we did."

"You over simplify things," Olivia replied, "It's different."

"He's better?"

"He's – Fitz," Olivia replied, and Fitz sat up a little straighter.

"And what about me?" Jake asked.

"You're Jake," She replied, as Fitz got up to interrupt, feeling childish for wanting to listen in.

"Clearly inferior," Jake said with a certain amount of sarcasm and Fitz froze, "But I made you happy,
or would have – didn't I Liv?"

"Jake."

"Liv."

She giggled. Giggled? Fitz felt the nails on his fingers digging into his palm, and his teeth made a
noise he wasn't sure they could make.

"No, Jake," She said, but didn't sound very convincing, "No."

"Oh. C'mon."

"No, you need to go, Jake," She replied, as Fitz stepped into the doorway.

He was ready to intervene if necessary, but the picture was pretty clear to him. Jake had Olivia
pinned into a corner – his arm above her head. And Olivia was smiling, neither of them noticed him,
and he let it stay that way as Jake went in for a kiss – that Olivia dodged.

"C'mon," Jake whispered, "He won't be back for an hour – maybe longer…"

"Oh, he's back now," Fitz stepped fully into the kitchen, and Jake didn't move, "You should probably
go."

"Seriously?" Jake asked as he stepped away from Olivia, and towards Fitz, "It could have just as
easily fallen the other way."

"I'm increasingly aware of that, but it didn't," Fitz replied, "So, you should pack up and go. I think
you've worn out your welcome. I have faith you'll be just fine out there on your own. Without my
protection."

"Fine," Jake said, and he brushed by Fitz on the way to the hallway, towards the room he had been
staying in.
"Fitz," Olivia tried, and Fitz held up a hand.

"If you were wondering why I didn't feel like I could trust you," Fitz said, "Why I thought maybe us
being together again wasn't the best idea in the world – this is why. I'm going to bed."

"Fitz."

"I'm going to bed, Olivia," He said, pronouncing each syllable of her name distinctively, his back
already turned, "You can see your other boyfriend out, if you want, then take my bedroom."

"…maybe I should go."

"No," Fitz whipped around, "I already risked enough saving your ass once. Your safety is not only a
problem for you, but to me and the whole damn country. If you're taken again, who knows what he'll
ask for. You are a very clearly a threat to the security of this country because I cannot be trusted to
make a rational decision when it comes to you. You are to stay here until the threat has passed, or I
will issue a warrant for your arrest, and you will be put in a cell. Not as comfy as this one, but safe.
Am I clear?"

"Yes," Olivia replied, swallowing hard.

"Good," Fitz said, "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"We should talk about this," She followed him down the hall.

"Maybe I'll feel like talking to you in the morning," Fitz stopped outside of the guest room door – hand
on the knob as Jake passed with his bags over his shoulder, "Good night, Olivia."

He walked inside, and shut the door behind him. He didn't particularly care at the moment that it shut
in her face, but thought that he might in the morning – maybe. He locked the door behind him, so that
she couldn't sneak in later. Her voice was on repeat in his head, about her nightmares, her excuses
when she crawled into bed with him. Had he ever stopped to think that maybe it just so happened his
bed was closer than Jake's? He shivered slightly as he took off his clothes from the day and went to
bed – not bothering to shower.

Fitz laid in bed that night and could feel his heart starting to cave in on itself as he laid underneath the
covers. He wanted to scream, but he also didn't want to give anyone – namely Olivia, namely her
father should he be listening in – the satisfaction. What he could feel, however, was the feeling of
darkness as his heart was being ripped apart by the minute. He could feel himself falling into a much
darker place than he had been in months, and so he was trying to clear his head. He was trying to think
about something else – trying to remember the sorts of thought patterns that Elliot had gone through
with him. He thought momentarily about talking himself through it, out loud. Maybe he could in his
head – but another time. Maybe in the morning before he talked to Olivia. If he could by then. He just
felt like such a jackass. He had believed her – he had actually believed her.
 21. Chapter 21
A/N: Hopefully this will help, this plotline I've been working with is not necessarily the best for
therapy given current canon situations, but bare with me, if you please. Enjoy :)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Twenty-One

Fitz had barely fallen asleep when he was up again, and then again. It was probably one of the worst
nights of sleep that he had ever had as he kept tossing, turning, and waking back up again. About five
minutes previously he had given up, and was staring up at the ceiling in the dark. The initial anger had
faded, and he was starting to wonder if maybe he had overreacted. Not with kicking Jake out, not after
he had tried to pick a fight that morning. That wasn't his issue, his issue was with Olivia. He already
felt a sinking feeling in his chest about the way he had left her out in the hallway. He took a deep
breath, and let out a sigh. What was the difference between the chat they were having versus that talk
he had had with Alex that morning? Some distance, and it was a little less flirtatious. But he had
missed the whole front end of the conversation. He didn't know how it got to be that Jake had her
against the wall, how she had allowed him to get that close without calling for help from Huck or
Quinn who were literally right down the hall.

He could feel all the breath going out of him as he rolled himself over and got out of bed – not really
sure why he was getting up – other than the fact that he couldn't sleep. And if he couldn't sleep, then it
meant something was wrong between him and Olivia. He could lay there mad about it all night or he
could go talk to her. From experience he knew that it would be a hundred times faster just to get up
and deal with it. And maybe he would get a nap before he went down to the office for the day, too. He
said a silent prayer as he walked down the hall that Jake's body wouldn't be found in the center of the
Oval Office the next morning. He tapped on Olivia's – his – bedroom door, and waited.

"Come in," She said, as if she had been waiting for him – and he had half a mind to turn around and go
back to bed, but instead he slipped the door open and stepped inside.

"So what the hell was that?" He asked, scratching at the top of his head, "Did I miss something? Did I
miss when you called for help, or when you told him off?"

"Fitz," Olivia was sitting up in bed now, leaning back against the headboard.

"Because – what the fuck Livy?"

"You're angry. I get it," She replied, "But it's two'o'clock in the morning. Either you're going to come
crawl in bed with me, so that maybe we can get some sleep, or you're going to yell and go back to the
guest room, and neither of us are going to sleep."

He took a second to think about it, and actually did think about turning around and leaving, but walked
over to the bed instead. He stopped with his knees against the side of the bed, and she scooted over
enough for him to climb in. He pulled up the covers, and she kept a bit of distance between them as
she turned on something that sounded like ocean waves in the background. He made a face, then put
himself more fully under the covers, turning away from her. He could feel her warmth as she curled
up against his back, and he sighed. So this is what his future looked like, with a woman who couldn't
make up her damn mind. Not that it mattered, his was already done. He didn't need extra time, he
needed a shotgun, for himself.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, and he turned around – not at all accustomed to hearing those words
coming out of her mouth, then her voice dropped even lower, "I didn't realize you would get so angry
– I mean, I did I just – "

"What the actual fuck is the matter with you that you can't just let me love you?" He asked, because it
was burning through his brain – and there was no whisper to what he said, "Do you realize how hard
it is to begin with? With everything that's already happened and now you just throw more shit on top
of it. Livy, how am I ever going to trust you again? Just last night you were telling me you loved me,
couldn't imagine leaving again, and I come back to find you in the kitchen with him?"

"I don't know," Olivia answered, in a normal speaking voice, "But I really hope you do, trust me
again. Eventually. And I wasn't thinking, about how hard it's been for you."

"Yeah, you don't think," Fitz said, "If we're going to figure out how to patch ourselves back up
together you have to start thinking, Livy. The only way we're going to make it out of this alive is if we
face all this shit together. And for all the chances I've burned through with you, you've burned three –
that's how hard it is to trust any given word that comes out of your mouth. This is what I meant when I
said I couldn't keep doing this."

"I know," Olivia replied, reaching under the covers to touch his arm, but he pulled it away.

"I miss you."

"I know."

"No, I do," He replied, "And it's a testament to how much love that Olivia that I'd rather be lying in
this bed angry with this Olivia willing the old one to come back to me than going out and finding
someone new."

"Or calling Alex."

"'Lex has nothing to do with this."

"'Lex'?"

"I work with her. I barely speak to her – and it's never like what happened earlier. I had only minor
problems with Jake – and I wouldn't imagine you would ever allow her to stay in your house with me
there – no matter what was going on. I wouldn't ask you to," He said, "And you know that."

"I do."
"I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Olivia replied, muffled but back in a whisper, and her voice dropped, "Is that it?
Have you calmed down, or do you need to vent more?"

"WHAT?"

"You're entitled to it," She assured him, then whispered lowly, "Be angry. You get to be as angry as
you want for as long as you want."

He stayed silent, nodding for her to go on – and she did, barely audible.

"I'm sorry. It was all part of the plan, Jake was supposed to get kicked out – and we thought it would
be best if you didn't know what was going to happen, so it was as realistic as possible," She said it
all in one breath.

"We?" He matched her volume.

"Jake's weaseling his way back into his good graces as we speak," She continued, still only faintly
audible, "We also established that you and I are rocky. It'll only be a matter of time before…"

"Wait, what?" Fitz matched her tone again.

"Jake never touched me – tonight - I wouldn't have let him," She explained, "He's a poor substitute.
Not while I have you. I knew you'd kick him out if he pressed the right buttons – I just didn't realize
you would get as angry as you did. But it makes sense, it was justified."

"Fuck, Olivia," He said in almost a normal voice, once again accentuating the syllables in her name.

"I'm sorry," She replied, before dropping her tone again, "Baby, I really am. I didn't – you're right. I
don't think and I need to get better at that."

"But once again, you are making plans without me," He whispered, trying to keep his voice as nearly
inaudible as hers, "Don't you see that that's the majority of our problems? You leave me in the fucking
dark, all the time. I meant what I said earlier, we need to be a team."

"I'm sorry," She said normally, then added, even lower, "I really am. But the plan is to get us out of
this mess alive. Would you like to hear the rest of it?"

"Go on."

"Jake is going to go back to my father, to 'be a good spy. And slowly, we're going pretend we think the
threat has passed – we're going return to normal. Starting with little trips together, out of the house –
tomorrow. By the end of the week, Huck Quinn and I are going to return to work."

"You're not leaving until he's dead."

"I have to, or else he won't believe our guards are down, and he won't put his down. He has to
believe everyone's gone back to the usual day, so that Jake can take care of him."

"I want to be the one to shoot him," Fitz replied.

"How would we get you close enough without causing alarm?" She breathed back, "Besides I don't
want you anywhere near him. Jake is better trained, more likely to survive killing him, and – "

"And what?" Fitz was annoyed, and it showed even though he was barely speaking.

"And if he doesn't make it, it will be horrible," Olivia started, then sighed, "But it won't be as bad as
if - I wouldn't be ok. I don't know how I would continue to – exist, if you weren't here."

"You could have told me," He breathed, a few minutes later, "Trust me I could have summoned plenty
of anger even if I knew it was a set up."

"I'm sorry," She said, in almost a normal speaking voice as she pulled her head up and kissed his
forehead.

"Olivia."

"I am," She replied, and he nodded.

"Ok," He said, turning back over so that they weren't face to face any more.

"I love you."

"Stop saying that," Fitz told her.

"What?"

"Because I don't believe you right now."

To neither of their surprise, they both fell asleep – exhausted. Fitz woke up late the next morning,
having slept through his alarms and got out of bed in a rush. Olivia seemed to already be awake, and
he called down to Cyrus as he headed for the shower. There was only one meeting missed, but it
would have to be rescheduled for that evening. He sighed as he sat with Cyrus. His polling numbers
were down, not that it mattered, with a draft of his resignation speech in his top drawer, but Cyrus
didn't know that. Fitz took a breath, and watched while Cyrus circled and wrung his hands.

"Sir," Cyrus said, and Fitz looked up at him, "Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

"I'm not sure," Fitz replied.

Cyrus rolled his eyes and threw something onto the floor as he got up from the couch.

"The new halfway house, and clinic. Homeless and drug addicts – helping people never went down
poorly with the American public," Cyrus said angrily, "It's opening downtown. This afternoon. You're
going to go, and you're going to give a speech about how cleaning up our streets means cleaning up
our people. The speech is already being written for you. All you have to do is show up, smile, say the
damn thing, and shake some hands."

"I want a full detail," Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded, "And I want Huck to come with me."

"Huck?"

"Yes, Huck," Fitz said, "He lived on the street for years, and he's a friend."

"Ok," Cyrus said, and took a breath, "But who do we tell the press he is to you?"

"A friend," Fitz repeated, "That suffered being homeless, and needed some help that wasn't really
there for him. Also, I'll feel better if he's there."

"Knew that bit was coming, sir."

Fitz looked around, happy to feel the outside air on his face. It was such a beautiful day, and Huck
seemed to be happy to get out of the house too, even if it meant that he was on guard-dog duty. Fitz
smiled a little to himself as they sat in the back of the Limousine with Daniel driving. He thought
about putting the window down, but decided against it, though the breeze would be nice, he would
like to limit his similarities to John Kennedy as much as possible, for the rest of his life.

"You ok, Mr. President?" Huck asked, and Fitz nodded.

"As good as I'm going to be," He replied, and Huck nodded, "Huck?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favor," He said, "Assume that Olivia tells me nothing – and just fill me in now and again,
ok?"

"Sir—If there's things Olivia's not telling you, it's for a reason," He replied, and Fitz gave him a
knowing look, "Sure. I'll let you know what's going on."

"Thank you, Huck."

 22. Chapter 22
A/N: So, just chipping away at the outline I had for this story, almost done I think (and ironically one
of the lines that I was planning from the beginning was on the show tonight, but whatever, I'm keeping
it in) – and I'm happy that I got to write this for my favorite Scandal character, who gets far too much
of the blame for things that aren't his fault… anyway…. Enjoy this installment my lovelies….

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Twenty-Two

Fitz suddenly found himself adhering to Olivia's plan, over the next couple of days. Mostly due to the
fact that he couldn't come up with a better plan, she and the rest of them all started leaving the
mansion during the day. Olivia came back at night, and he was told that Huck and Quinn were 'seeing
each other again'. There hadn't been a whisper of the plan since the night they spoke under the covers,
with a sound to cover their whispers. Olivia came back every night, and he wasn't sure what he
would do if she were to not come back one night. He was kind of preparing himself for that
possibility, that she would still take off into the night for some self-justified reason or another.
However, he seemed to always be pleasantly surprised to find her waiting for him up in the residence
by the time he got there. And at almost a week, it was increasingly surprising that she was still
coming back.

"Hi," Olivia said as he walked in, putting his coat on a chair as she walked over.

She put her arms up around his neck and kissed him, he didn't stop her, but he was far from
enthusiastic in reply.

"Hi," He said, looking around the kitchen, "You cooked for me? You don't know how to cook."

"I ordered up from the kitchen," She replied, still with her arms around his neck.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking down into her eyes – her beautiful big brown eyes.

"There's a guy in the living room for you," Olivia told him, and he nodded, "He said he was Dr.
Winters. The Secret Service brought him up…"

"Right," Fitz said, leaning forward and kissing her quickly as he stepped out of her arms and toward
the living room, "Elliot."

The familiar doctor was sitting on the couch, and Fitz reached down to help him up.

"Just doing my weekly check in," He said, and he broke off as he noticed Olivia standing in the
corner.

"It's ok, Elliot," Fitz told him, "It's just Liv. She's been staying here with me. Can I reschedule the
appointment?"

"Sure," Elliot seemed surprised, "I was just coming out of obligation, I wasn't sure if you were still
up for our meetings."

"I think I'm going to need them," Fitz said, motioning for Olivia to come over, "Liv, this is my
Therapist, Elliot."

"Oh, ok," Olivia said, taking a few more steps into the room, but not coming fully over to them.

"Does tomorrow afternoon sound ok?" Fitz asked, and Elliot nodded.

"I'll arrange it with security for you to come to me?"

"Excellent," Fitz replied, and Elliot gave him a little smile.

"I'll see myself out."

"Thank you," Fitz said, and Elliot disappeared from the room as he turned to Olivia, "Dinner time?"

"Sure," Olivia said, seemingly caught off guard as she followed him into the kitchen were dinner was
still waiting, "So how long…?"

"About two months after Gerry died, and you left," Fitz said, trying to keep it casual as they sat down,
"I didn't tell you, and I should have. I'm sorry. Feel free to ask questions I – I don't know, I guess it
slipped my mind. I can't exactly ask for transparency from you, then keep things, can I? I just haven't
really seen Elliot since we rescued you, and there was so much else going on…"

"Right," Olivia said, "Why did he say he was obligated to come and check on you?"

Fitz took a deep breath.

"It's a deal I have with the secret service," Fitz said, "He comes at least once a week to check in on
me until he deems he doesn't have to anymore. I had been going to see him, but in light of recent
events I guess they arranged for a house call."

"Why though?" Olivia asked, "Why is he checking on you for the secret service?"

Fitz took a deep breath, trying to figure out how not to tell Olivia, how to talk his way around it. But
wasn't that exactly why he was angry with her in the first place? Her lack of communication on
important things? The fact that she didn't tell him anything that was going on, including when she left.
When she planned things without him? He took a deep breath and slipped his chair back and reseated
himself in one closer to hers.

"Because a little while after Gerry passed away, and you left – I tried to kill myself," Fitz told her,
and her entire facial expression changed, "So, the secret service arranged for mental health
protection, and told me as long as I did it, then no one outside of the situation would have to know. So
I was seeing Elliot, more seriously for a while. He helped me get my head straight, and…."

"That's good, that he's helped," Olivia said, and Fitz nodded, she was going quiet, and looked a little
like she might start crying.

"Liv?"

"What?" Her voice cracked.

"I'm not hungry," He told her, "Not anymore. If you'd like to go to bed now."

"Ok," She replied, her voice a higher pitch than usual as she headed off, not waiting for him to get up,
too.

Fitz took a deep breath, and left dinner untouched as he followed her back to his room. He stood in
the doorway while she changed into something to sleep in, and stared at a small patch of carpet near
his shoe.

"Are you ok?"

"Sure."

"I'm doing much better now," He told her, looking up as she crawled into bed, "We can talk about it, if
you want."

"Get into bed first?" She requested, and he nodded.

It didn't take long before he had stripped down to a t-shirt and his shorts, and climbed in under the
covers. Olivia very swiftly put herself into his arms, and he held her, tighter than he had before.
Tighter than he had allowed himself to before.

"It's ok, I'm here," Fitz whispered into her hair.

"You can't do that," She said, and he nodded, "Tell me more. Tell me everything you can remember."

"Why, Livy? What does it matter?"

"It matters," Olivia replied, and he pressed his nose a little harder into the top of her head, "It matters
because you kissed me, for the first time since – maybe since you first found me – just then, in the
kitchen. We've kissed before that, but it was never you kissing me, not on the lips. I stole a couple
from you one night – but it was because you were distracted, earlier that you even thought of kissing
me. You heard Elliot was there, you were distracted and you kissed me… This is why you've been
holding back. I didn't know why you were scared of me, why this time would be different. You're
actually scared… of me."

"It wasn't just you, Liv. There was a lot going on at the time…"
"But it hurt more that I left when I did?"

"Obviously," Fitz replied, taking a breath – realizing he hadn't for a while.

"So tell me everything, everything that you remember," Olivia told him, "Because I want to know. I
want to be sure…"

"Fine," He said, taking a deep breath, "I was in the Oval Office, alone. I was low, I saw our corner
over by the window. I tried to call you, even though I knew it was going to do that 'the phone you are
calling is out of service' thing, because you were off somewhere with Jake. Then I started thinking
about how much better off you are with him, and how I can't even protect my own family, and how
much I hate being in politics in the first place. It was a spiral, and compounded by events that were
going on, so I went over to the window and I tried to hang myself in the drapes. Would have worked,
if Tom hadn't come in and taken me down. And then Elliot became a part of my day, every day, and
slowly tapered off to once a week."

"I'm not better off with Jake," Olivia told him, taking a deep breath, "I was running."

"I know."

"Your family is as safe as you can make them."

"I know."

"You don't have to be the president if you don't want. Once you're out of here, you can do whatever
you want."

"I know."

"I wouldn't be able to – you can't die."

"You weren't here."

"I know," Olivia conceded, and he took a deep breath, "That was all that shit about you not wanting
me back until you can chase me."

"It was."

"Baby, you're not going to have to chase me," She told him, reaching up and fixing his hair
affectionately, "I promise, and I will prove that to you any way that I can, ok?"

"Ok," Fitz nodded, his head down now, on her shoulder as she held him.

"I won't keep you in the dark," She told him, and he was starting to believe her, "I love you. You – I
can't imagine not being able to be with you, eventually. Please, please do not take that off the table."

"I won't," He promised as he felt her kiss his head through his hair.
"And I can't promise it will happen overnight, but I will try to get better, ok?" Olivia was crying now,
he could hear it in her voice, "Telling you things – I'm not used to it. I've never – I've never had to be
accountable for anything to anyone except for myself – that's going to be an adjustment."

"I understand that," He replied, and he felt a tear dripping down his own nose, "Please, just don't – "

"I can't," She replied, "I'm here, every night that you are, from now on, ok?"

"Ok," He cleared his throat as he looked up into her eyes, "No matter what. We both show up, and
we're honest with each other. No matter what is going on."

"No matter what," She replied, then without missing a beat replied, "I'm scared to let you love me
because I don't remember the last time I was that important to anybody."

Fitz blinked, not having expected that honesty.

"You asked the other night, about why I couldn't let you love me," She said, "But I'm trying."

"I know you are," He replied, "And I appreciate it."

"And I'm worried that we're not going to make it. Because if it's not us at the end of the day…"

"It will be."

He surprised even himself as he leaned in, kissing her the way that he wanted to since the second that
she had walked back into the Oval. Since the second she returned from wherever the hell she had
gone with Jake. He could feel her lips pressed tight to his, and he could feel his hands slipping slowly
over her body. It was as if the rocks that had been weighing him down were starting to lift, and he
could feel himself letting go.

"And I don't want to make Jam," Olivia said, as they pulled away, "I want Vermont, I want you. I'm
just not ready to settle down and make Jam yet. I'm – "

"We can work on that," He replied, "We'll figure something out. You don't need to turn into an old
maid overnight. I get that. But right now, I want to kiss my girlfriend. Are you ok with that?"

"Yes," She replied, taking a deep breath before he covered her mouth with his.

He rolled over onto his back and pulled her so that she was lying on top of him as he kissed her.
Slowly, intimately, because he knew how she liked to be kissed. He slipped his hands down her back,
slipping one up under the shirt she was wearing to the middle of her back and put his other hand on
her ass as he ran his tongue across the underside of hers. She moaned a little, into his mouth and he
swallowed it, feeling his heart starting to grow in his chest as she ran her hands into his hair. He then
slowed down, taking his mouth, and his tongue away from her in bits and pieces.

"I love you," She whispered against his neck once he had his head back down on his pillow.
"You scare the living daylights out of me," He replied, and he nodded, "Because I love you."

"…you scare me, too."

 23. Chapter 23
A/N: :) Enjoy it.

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Twenty-Three

Fitz could actually feel himself start to relax in the following few days. He knew that almost none of
their problems were 'fixed' but he was starting to feel normal – almost. Almost. Mellie refused to
stand in the same room as him long enough to sign the papers normally, so they signed them
separately, with a witness instead of together. He couldn't really bring himself to care either way
about it. Karen and Teddy were to split their time reasonably between the two of them, and that was
that. Karen only had a couple of years before she turned eighteen anyway, and there was plenty of
time for Teddy to be shuffled around and made arrangements for. He took a deep breath as he watched
Olivia sleeping in his arms. It was Saturday, his day was cleared – there was nowhere that he needed
to be, there was no crowd to perform for like some sort of derange monkey puppet with strings. He
was permitted to lay in bed with Olivia as late as he liked, and then they were going to do whatever
she wanted.

"Mmm," She mumbled, not quite awake yet as she rolled herself over, pressing her face against his
chest.

"Good morning," Fitz whispered, and she squirmed slightly as his breath hit her ear.

"Is it?"

"I'd say so," He replied, kissing the top of her head.

"What're you still doing here?" She asked, peaking around him at the clock, "You should be
downstairs already."

"I cleared my day," He told her, "We can do whatever you want, today."

"You cleared your day?"

"It's Saturday," He replied, "And all the things I had were – moveable. So, I'm taking the day."

"I- " Olivia started, "I don't even know what I want to do."

"Well, I was thinking for starters, it's been a while since we visited Eisenhower and Helene," He
replied, and she looked up at him.

"You want to go to the stables?" She asked.

"We could go riding," He said, "You know, I think they'll be much happier once we bring 'em up to
Vermont with us."

Olivia smiled faintly. It took them a few more minutes to get up and out of bed, which was probably
his own fault. He started to kiss her, and neither could stop until it was well past a time anyone
wanted to think about the President of the United States still being in bed. They got to the ranch by
about two in the afternoon, and Fitz smiled as he walked up to the gate. Mellie and the kids' horses
were gone, he assumed Mellie had had them shipped to wherever she was. But his and Olivia's were
waiting patiently, swishing their tails. Cyrus's horse, which had been purely for show, a political
commercial that he had devised so that he could get Olivia her's – was in another enclosure, eating.

"Hey, sweetie," Olivia smiled as she stroked the side of Helene's face.

"Which trail were we thinking?" Fitz asked as he scratched behind one of Eisenhower's ear.

"I like the higher one," She said, as he helped her hop over the fence, "It goes by the waterfall."

"Right," Fitz nodded, trying to remember which one she meant, as he slipped a couple of apples out of
his pocket, "The little river, right?"

"You brought the good stuff," Olivia laughed as both horses started to close in on him.

"You can have them while we harness you up, ok?" Fitz spoke to the horses, and Olivia smiled as he
very cautiously led them over.

"What about Kay?" Olivia said, and Fitz looked over at the horse in the other enclosure.

"I'll have Mikey give him one later," Fitz said, nodding over at the farmhand that was tasked with
taking care of them.

Olivia distracted each of the horses while Fitz put saddles on them, their bridals were harder to get
on without them noticing, but they didn't put up much of a fuss about it. Fitz grinned as he led the way
out of the stables, and over towards the gate. Mikey nodded up at him, giving him the presidential
greeting as he opened up the door for him, and Daniel emerged from the other paddock, on Kay. He
was to follow about five feet behind them, mostly because there was no way the secret service would
let them go on their own, because Fitz had asked before. The last time he had been out there was
alone, with Tom. It was a few days after his attempt, and Tom had suggested it. Suggested it as
something that made Fitz happy. Which was true, except that was when Gerry's horse had still been
there.

"What's the matter?" Olivia asked, and Fitz shook his head.

"Nothing," He told her, with a grin as the three horses were guided towards the trails, "Going up?"

"After you," She smiled.

The ride was mostly in silence, with a few comments back and forth, until they got to the top of the
hill. In the winter time there were ski trails down one side, but Fitz simply liked the view from the
top. There was a range like no other, and he could everything. The Washington Monument was in
clear view, except it looked like a stick, a big white stick in the middle of lights. He looked over at
Olivia and reached for her hand.

"Yes?" She replied, giving it to him.

He just shook his head.

"I love you," He told her, keeping eye contact as long as she would let him, which wasn't for long.

"What're we doing, Fitz?"

"We're spending time together," He said, taking a deep breath, "The way I would have courted you, if
things had been different. We signed papers yesterday."

"I know."

"Now I'm all yours."

"I know," Olivia smiled slightly, and he took a breath.

"I'm free, almost."

"Four more years," Olivia said, and he nodded – but he didn't mean it – but he couldn't tell her.

He wanted to, but he couldn't. She would make him change his mind. She would make him stay.

"Liv."

"Yeah?"

"I was just wondering…what you wanted to do."

"Sorry?" Olivia asked.

"What you wanted to do," He said, "Because you don't want to make jam – and I can't blame you. So,
we should figure it out sooner rather than later."

"I want to stay here," She said, and he furrowed his brow as she gestured toward the city, "I want to
keep running the world, Fitz. I'm not ready to give that up yet."

"You can't run the world, if the world knows," Fitz surmised, and Olivia shook her head.

"I can't."

"We have problems."

"We have problems," Olivia agreed.

"Well, what if – " Fitz took a breath, "What if I went to Vermont? No one would bother me there, and
you could come visit?"

"Come visit?"

"On the weekends, holidays, vacations," He replied, taking a breath, "You could stay here, in your
apartment. I'll fly you up. And then, when you're ready to readjust– I'll be there."

"You're going to be there all by yourself?" Olivia asked, and Fitz shrugged.

"I can't stay here," He said, "We just said, no one can know. Not yet. And if I stay here everyone's
going to find out. If I'm there… maybe not."

"We'd have a shot."

"Besides, I can stay up there and take care of these two," He said, looking to Helene, and Eisenhower
and back again, "…And anyone else who shows up."

"No one's going to show up for a while," Olivia told him, and he nodded.

"That's fine. We have time."

He was going to make it so they had time.

"In four years?" Olivia asked, "You'll already be – almost fifty-five? I'll be almost forty…"

"Maybe," Fitz shrugged a little more, this would be when he should tell her, but that would ruin it,
"Maybe not. C'mon, we should head back."

Olivia went quiet as they headed down the hill, quieter than when they had started up. Fitz didn't
mention it, or take it personally. It was getting colder, and the sun was starting to go down by the time
they made it back to the White House. They walked into their room to change from being outside, and
Fitz started to kiss the back of her neck.

"Fitz," Olivia said with a warning tone.

"Yes?"

He continued.

"Fitz, stop," She said and he straightened up, "I'm feeling…"

"What?" He asked.

"A little overwhelmed," She replied, "Smothered."

"Smothered?" He checked, and she nodded.

"Can I have a few minutes?" She asked as he stepped back, "This is what we're doing, right? We're
working on it? I – I need a few minutes…to myself. Then we can go to dinner?"

"Ok, I can do that," He said, grabbing a pair of pants and a new shirt, "I'll see you later, then."

"Thank-you," She said, and he nodded.

"If this is something you need, in the future," He said, realizing what she was doing, "Don't be afraid
to ask for a time out. I'd rather that then – the alternative."

"Me too," She replied, "But it won't always be a few minutes."

"And that's ok, too. As long as I know vaguely what's going on."

"I think I can do that," Olivia replied, and Fitz smiled.

Fitz changed in the next room over, and then set himself up with his laptop in the living room. He
could hear Olivia's shower going, and smiled to himself as he read up on some briefings that Cyrus
had sent him during the day. Boundaries and rules. Every relationship had them, and he was happy to
set some up with Olivia, now that they were going to make it work. He had talked to Elliot about it,
and he had agreed that their relationship – not that he approved – was going to require some structure,
to protect both of them. Fitz knew he wasn't the only one with demons, but he was willing to work on
his, and help Olivia work on hers. Growing up in Rowan's house was a problem, and he couldn't
imagine how she had turned out as amazing as she was. But that came with baggage. So, if she needed
so spend a few minutes alone, or a few days. Or spend the majority of the time during a week away
from him for a while – so be it. They would work it out, they'd ease into happily ever after – he could
deal with that.

"Fitz?" She walked into the room.

"Yeah?" He looked up from the computer, minimizing his resignation speech.

"You ready for dinner?"

He blinked. She had appeared, an hour after asking for a little time alone, looking possibly more
beautiful than she had ever looked to him. A simple white dress, casual – not overly ornate or like she
was going to a ball. Simple. Comfortable. He smiled as he closed the laptop and put it on the coffee
table.

"You look – " He couldn't finish the sentence, because the adjective escaped him as she crossed the
room and sat in his lap, "My appetite went away, I think."

"Did it?" She teased him, kissing the side of his head.

"Yeah, you hungry?"

"A little."

"Well, we should probably do something about that," He said, leaning in and kissing her, slowly, "But
then, I think maybe we should ah…"

"Yes," She smiled, and he got up, holding her bridal style as he carried her towards the dining room –
where he had heard dinner being delivered.

"It's a good thing you're so little," He teased her, "I should be able to do this 'til I'm at least seventy."

She chuckled as he rounded the corner into the room, and he nearly dropped her. Sitting at the table
was a slumped figure. Jake, but with blood coming out of the side of his mouth. Actually, as Fitz set
Olivia down onto her feet he realized Jake's whole front was covered, and he put his arm out to
corral Olivia over behind him. Jake was dead, and sitting at their dinner table, and he realized that
Olivia was, to a certain extent, hiding behind him as he turned to check on her.

"Shame, right? So much talent," A voice that made the hair stick up on the back of his neck came from
the right – and they both looked to see Rowan sitting at the far side head of the table, "I hope you don't
mind if he joins us. Sit. Both of you. Dinner's going to get cold, and I'm starving."
 24. Chapter 24
NO, SERIOUSLY. READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE.

A/N: YAY PATS! *Also, I'm going to warn you all of a trigger that shows up in the flashback… Fitz
revisits his suicide attempt …. You can skip it by the lines if you want.

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fitz looked at Jake for a few more seconds, then back over at Olivia's father, sitting on the end of the
table. Olivia's hands were dug into his sweater, right at his shoulder blades. She was terrified, and he
wasn't sure that he was doing any better, even as he forced himself to seem as if he were merely
angered by the man's presence in his house. There were a few seconds of very intense eye contact, at
the end of which Rowan opened up his arms, gesturing for them to sit. His brain might've been
whistling from the amount of scenarios he was trying to figure out. Whether they could run, or if Eli
would shoot them. Or if he'd simply leave Jake's body there, frame him for the murder of his
girlfriend's boyfriend. A jealous rage. It would be easy enough to convince people of.

Or if they could make it out – make it on the run. But he seriously doubted that with the stature – of
each of their jobs. They would be recognized somewhere, especially without the extra help of having
time to properly hide themselves. One thing was certain though, there was no way that he was sitting
down, or getting out from between Olivia and her father. Fitz could feel his chest starting to collapse
on itself from lack of breathing as he turned his head ever so slightly so that he could see the side of
Olivia's face. She was, short of Karen or Teddy, the most important person in his life. Easily. He
couldn't let this be the end for her, not like this. Not without doing everything that he could.

Fitz had walked from the nearly silent residence down to the Oval Office. Karen had just gone home,
having been home for the weekend to spend time with Teddy, who was now asleep. Shortly after
Gerry passed, she had chosen to go back to school, and Fitz had supported her decision. Though he
made sure that she knew she could come home any time that she wanted. But she never did, he had
basically begged her to come home this time, and she had. He felt lost, wandering around the White
House. He would take a winding path through the White House at night, until he was so tired that he
could barely see straight. Except no matter what, he always came back to one burning question.

What was the point?

Gerry was gone, he had come to terms with that. He wasn't entirely sure why he couldn't really fully
admit it, but he was. He understood it, and he was dealing with the loss of his son. It made him feel
like a terrible father – but his son was gone. And he had grieved, he was grieving, but he knew that
Gerry was gone. Karen was at school, basically fully grown, and there he was. He was stuck inside
of a nightmare of marriage within the bubble of the crown jewel of the American prison system.
Where was Olivia? Who the hell even knew? She wasn't there. They were supposed to be together.
They were supposed to do this together.

He looked around the Oval as he walked into it, and Tom stopped following him, as usual just outside
the door. Fitz made a b-line to the bottle of scotch that was waiting by the couch, and collapsed onto
the floor, leaning back against the bottom of the couch. He could feel his chest starting to cave in a
little on itself. Every breath felt like it took more and more energy out of him. And as he guzzled down
some more scotch, he could feel every single beat his heart was making. He could hear the blood
rushing through his veins – and it hurt.

Everything hurt.

Gerry hurt.

Olivia hurt.

Breathing hurt.

His heart ticking in his chest like a bomb, waiting to go off.

He couldn't remember the last time that he had slept, and he would be lying if he tried to tell himself
he hadn't thought about it before then. He just couldn't imagine waking up the next morning and doing
it all again. Sitting in the meetings that he wished he could care about, that he wished he still had any
interest in. There was no interest, in anything – and he was done. He didn't want to be there, not
anymore. There wasn't anything worth waking up for, and there wasn't any sort of point. There was no
comfort, and all he could see was the mountain of his life that he didn't want to live anymore.

He went over and sat at the desk, wondering if it would invoke some sort of drive, some sort of life.
It didn't. Instead, he just looked down at the burner phone that had been in his desk drawer. The one
that he used to call Olivia's, and the one that he had picked up several times since she left. But there
was no one to answer. It was gone, and she wasn't coming back. He picked up the phone one more
time, and tried to call her – but he memorized her nondescript outgoing message by then. The semi-
robotic, and completely detached female voice that told him the number wasn't working, that the
number had been shut off. Then there was the window, just out of view of the cameras.

There were no memories past that point. He didn't remember taking the chord from the drapes, or
standing up on a chair. He knew that these things happened, because that's what he was told when he
woke up at James Madison, by Tom who had come in and taken him down. Then it was through Elliot,
who had more of the immediate details of the night than he did – when they started.

"Livy, go. Get out of here," He said, knowing that she was scared enough by the sight of Jake to listen
without fighting him.

"I don't think that's a good idea. I think we should all have dinner, together," Rowan piped up, and as
he spoke Daniel stepped out from the shadows, behind where Eli was sitting, "You didn't think that
Agent Larson was my only set of eyes and ears inside of this place, did you? Of course, you made the
mistake of killing him, even though he was loyal to you. I don't think you've built up that sort of loyalty
with Daniel."

"Liv goes," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, as if it would summon some sort of courage, as he tried
not to look at Jake's corpse, "Neither of us wants to see her hurt."

"I wouldn't hurt a hair on her head," Eli replied, "You don't think I knew that agent Larson had
developed a stronger allegiance to you than to me? You don't think I planned for you to take care of
him?"

"No," Fitz shook his head, "I don't think you did. And I think you've caused enough damage. So,
Olivia goes, or we're just going to stand here, all night. She's not why you're here anyway, is she? You
want me dead, just like you wanted him dead. For daring to have feelings for your daughter. It's a
little cliché, don't you think? She's smart, I think she gets it. You don't have to make her sit across the
table from her dead ex-boyfriend while you shoot me, Eli. That's not another trauma you have to tack
on, is it?"

"Though, I do think she's chosen wrong. Jake was clearly the better choice. I trained him myself – but,
when he was the one to emerge, without her. I knew he was no longer useful to me." Eli replied, then
added in a much more mocking tone, "I'm not moronic enough to even think of shooting the president
in the White House. I just want to have a chat."

"I won't do anything you ask until Olivia's off the grounds," Fitz said, "Safe."

"She's not in any danger - Very well, Daniel…"

"I want Hal," Fitz said, "I want Hal to drive Liv home."

"Hal? That bumbling idiot?" Daniel spoke – possibly the first real sentence he heard out of him.

"Hal couldn't lie to save his own damn life," Fitz replied, and Rowan looked displeased, which told
Fitz that he was right.

"Daniel," Eli rolled his eyes, and Fitz took a deep breath, "Call this Hal, and escort both the President
and my daughter to the door to meet him. Bring back the president."

"Yes, sir," Daniel replied, nodding for them to walk with him.

"I should stay," The shock was wearing off as they walked into the foyer, to wait for Hal.

"No," Fitz whispered back, "You shouldn't. Go, go home. It'll be ok."

"I thought we weren't going to bullshit each other anymore," She quipped, and he rolled his eyes.

"Livy," He said, putting his hands carefully on her shoulders, "This has never had anything to do with
you. Your father –"
"Bullshit."

"Fine," Fitz could feel his face draining to something ghost-like, "It's all your fault that I'm in this
situation in the first place. Does that make anything about this better? Is that even true? He had his
talons into Jake and I before either of us even met you, Liv. You were just a kid then when he picked
us to screw with. I need you to go, and be safe. Right now, or I will probably do something stupid. I
can do this, but I can't do this with you here. I love you. I need you to be safe."

Olivia gave him a hurt sort of look and he kissed the top of her head as Hal knocked on the door.

"Miss Pope needs an escort home?" Hal stepped just inside of the door, and Fitz nodded.

There was a familiar sense of judgement that Fitz got from Hal, but he didn't have time to care. Had
Hal known the gravity of the situation, Fitz assumed that he would have kept his usual judgement to
himself. But then again, they hardly had time for that, and it almost made Fitz feel a little bit better to
have some semblance of a normal interaction with someone.

"She does, see her home, and wait with her there, ok Hal?" Fitz requested, and Hal nodded, but
seemed confused.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you. Really, can't thank you enough."

Fitz tried to hang on to that last image of her going out the door, safely, with Hal as Daniel escorted
him back into the dining room. Without her there, his position seemed much direr, and yet also doable.
There was the distinct possibility that Daniel was simply going to shoot him in the back of the head
now Olivia was gone – but he could deal with that. Any façade that Rowan had been playing with
with the dinner, and sitting down together for it would be gone. As would any sort of kid gloves,
which was – Fitz was certain – how he was going to make it out of there. The kid gloves scared him
more than frank conversation –and they could speak freely now. There was no one there for either of
them to impress with their stupidity.

He wasn't sure how it was possible, but Jake's skin was now a shade grayer than he remembered
initially seeing him. Had it been recent? The blood on his shirt still looked wet, but Fitz wasn't about
to check. Daniel pulled him out a seat at the opposite end of the table, and Fitz sat down. The two of
them were sitting as far apart as possible, and with Jake to his immediate left, Fitz realized the
statement that Rowan was making. Or would be making, if Olivia would have been placed to his
right.

It was just the two of them, and Jake's corpse.

 25. Chapter 25
A/N: So, there was going to be another chapter, and an epilogue… but the epilogue was going to be
really short, so I combined them… mostly because I'm really excited to revamp and really get
working on Run to You…so here we go…you'll get the gist of the set-up…Enjoy :)

The King Stands Alone

Chapter Twenty-Five:

"Careful," Fitz nearly dropped his laptop as he walked into the kitchen, barely getting it onto the
counter as he rushed over to the fridge.

This was where his three year old was trying to take an oversized jug of grape juice from a shelf that
she could barely reach. He got there just in time to pick her up and lift her so that she could reach the
jug properly. It was still a little too full for her to be able to carry on her own, so he leveraged her
against himself as he put a hand under the jug. She giggled a little as they set it down on the counter,
and then he set her to sit next to it.

"Can I have some juice, Daddy?" She asked, looking up at him innocently.

"Oh," Fitz sighed as he went to get her a sippy cup from the cabinet, and came back to her, "You are
exactly like your mother."

Gabriella grinned, not realizing that he didn't necessarily mean it as a good thing as he poured her a
cup of juice, which she started sucking down as soon as he handed it to her. Everything about her
screamed Olivia. There were no pictures to judge by, but he guessed when she was younger it was
probably all the way down to the curls in her little pig tails. Except, of course, she had his eyes.
Which meant, of course, that Olivia was the disciplinarian, when she was home. He smiled as he
tapped Gabriella on her little nose.

"It's almost time to get you ready for bed," He told her, "Drink that up so we can brush your teeth."

"When's mommy getting home?" She asked, the spout of the cup still partially in her mouth.

"She'll be home tonight," Fitz told her, then checked his watch, "She'll actually be home just about any
minute now."

"Why is she never here?"

"Because mommy has a very important job in DC," He told her as she reached for him, and he put her
on his hip as he started carrying her out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, "But that's going to
change very soon. After our trip tomorrow mommy's going to be with us a lot more."

Fitz stopped as he noticed something missing from the shelf in the living room. There were pictures of
the three of them lined up on the mantle, except there was a large gap in the middle. This was where,
usually, their wedding photo was.

"Do you know where that went?" He asked her as he set her down.

"Yes," She replied.

"It's in your room again?" He asked, and she nodded.

"Remember, I asked you to get it down for me?" She said, and he nodded, "Then you got a phone
call…"

"Yes," He replied, "Why don't you go and get it from your room before your mom gets home and
notices it missing."

"Ok," Gabriella ran off, returning with a framed picture that was almost as big as she was, "I just
think mommy's so pretty in it."

"She doesn't think so," Fitz chuckled as she handed it to him, and he put it back up.

"Why?"

"Her dress didn't fit right."

"Why?"

"Because you were in her tummy," Fitz smiled as he scooped her back up, "But we didn't know that
yet. C'mon let's go get your PJs…"

Fitz sat back down at the table with his head square, trying not to focus on Jake in his peripheral. Jake
was certainly dead, he knew that now that he was sitting next to him, but there was nothing he could
do about it. Rowan had brought him as a prop, and Fitz had to keep that in mind. Of all the feelings
and problems and memories that he had with Jake, he had never wished this. He'd wished him gone,
he'd wished him severely bruised – hell, he'd done that himself – but he hadn't wished this. So instead
of focusing on his one-time friend, he looked right across the table, into the eyes of the man who
would ruin his life. The man who wanted nothing but harm, but also – in a twisted turn of events,
made it possible for the love of his life to exist.

"Dig in," Rowan dared him, and Fitz slid the plate that was full of, inedible he was sure, food to the
left, and over towards Jake, "Well, if we're not going to eat…we should talk."

"We should talk," Fitz leaned back, trying to force himself to also actually feel relaxed – it wasn't
working, "Last time I don't think you were exactly straight with me."

"You were expecting it?" He replied, and Fitz shook his head.
"No, I don't know why I would ever expect something like that," He replied.

"Olivia's a hard girl to love, I hope you knew what you were signing on for."

"I didn't – but it doesn't matter," Fitz replied, "And I can't imagine I have anyone else but you to thank
for that."

"Me?"

"She was twelve. You told her her mother was dead and you shipped her off. Her dad, just shipping
her out..."

"Her mother was a terrorist," He replied, raising his voice, "What was I supposed to do? Keep her
home with me? Had I kept her home with me, she would have ended up the same as your buddy Jake
there. I did the best that I could. Something that you should understand. Your situation with your
daughter can't be all that different. Her brother dies, and she's shipped back to boarding school?"

"She chose that," Fitz started to defend himself, and stopped – he was trying to get under his skin – but
Fitz had to keep his head, "But let's be honest – this isn't about Olivia – this is about you. You're all
about the theatrics, but I think you're just upset that maybe the world is starting to forget about the old
man behind the curtain. The one who's been pulling all the strings and – for better or for worse –
keeping us all safe. But no one knew about you in the first place – except for Olivia."

"And my soldiers," Rowan replied, gesturing towards Jake, "But you can see that they haven't been so
loyal lately. It's as if they forget who pulled them out of the gutters of this country and made them men.
That was why I never recruited you – if you failed, you went home to daddy, and he used his money to
make everything all better. If my men fail, they don't have anyone to fall back on. Kind of like how
Olivia chose her crew of thugs she calls her team. In order to work for her you have to have no other
option."

"Interesting way to do business, I prefer actual loyalty, but to each his own," Fitz told him, and Rowan
raised an eyebrow, "Both of us, in our own ways, want the best for Olivia, and we want to help
change the world. Me? I'm happy to pass a few bills, and get my name written down in a history book
– but I've already done that. I'm already there. I'm only in my fifties and I've accomplished everything
I set out to do, everything everyone else set up for me. Now it's time for me to relax, do what I want
to do, accomplish my new goals that I wasn't counting on. You, you're hungry – still. Olivia, she's
hungry too."

"She's a good girl, I raised her right."

"Mmm," Fitz said, "Notice, I haven't asked you what you want."

"You've already said what I want. Not that I can have it. I want you dead, and I want Olivia in the
right sort of life."

"Well, I can't give you much else, if you're not going to shoot me – Scotch?" Fitz asked, getting up
from the table and getting it from the side, "I know I could use some."

"I'm fine, thank you," Rowan replied, and Fitz took an unopened, sealed bottle he had hidden in the
back and popped it open, pouring himself a glass.

"C'mon, I feel like a terrible host," Fitz played in to Rowan's façade, "Wine? Liv's got some in the
kitchen…"

"No," Rowan shook his head, still sitting at the table as Fitz leaned against the wall.

"Ok, well if you're not going to shoot me, then we have a problem don't we?" Fitz continued, trying
not to eye the jacket on the hook, where his gun was hanging in the pocket, "You can drag in bodies all
day, but the country finding a dead President in the morning…"

"A president with a history of suicide attempts?" Rowan hinted, and Fitz flinched as he too stood up
from the table, "But we can't do that either – it will be a free for all with our enemies – if it were to
look like the President shot himself? We would look weak, and we are not nearly as weak as you are,
Mr. President."

"Fair enough," Fitz said, "So what do I owe the visit? Because there really is not much I'll be able to
do for you. I told you, I'm done. I don't want this power, the power you want is all yours. I'm
resigning, this week – tomorrow, maybe - and then I'm gone. I'm leaving town, Rowan – town's all
yours – as long as you leave Olivia alone. You don't even contact her again."

"Excellent," Rowan replied, taking a step forward, and Fitz pulled his gun out of his jacket, off the
hook just outside the door's archway.

He had it between Rowan's eyes before Daniel even managed to get in position, and he cocked the
gun anyway. Daniel now had his own gun on Fitz, but he didn't back down.

"You can go ahead and shoot me, Daniel," Fitz told him, "But I promise I will shoot him before I go
down. Then you'll have three bodies, one rather high profile, and no explanation, won't you?"

"It's ok, Daniel – he's not going to shoot."

"I'm not?" Fitz asked, working hard to keep his voice even, "Because the problem is, Rowan – Eli –
Eli, I don't trust you. I don't trust that you will stay away from her, because you won't. I could leave
this town without even a thought, take my kids, take Olivia and leave and it could burn to the ground.
It would be sad, but I'd be ok. But I can't do that. That's not how the world works so – I'm going to
make sure that you're not going to bother anyone."

"You're bluffing. Your candy-coated ass, with your privilege and your pride – you don't have the
anatomical stones – "

Fitz looked straight into Eli's eyes, summoning all the hatred, frustration and pain that Eli had caused.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Daniel was gone. He had run away, because there really was
no honor in the army of monsters that the man had created. He took another breath, then pulled the
trigger.

"Why do I have to brush my teeth?" Gabriella asked as Fitz leaned in the doorway, supervising for
that exact reason.

"So they can stay strong," He replied, and Gabriella nodded, "You're going to get to see your brother
and sister, too, tomorrow."

"Really?" She smiled, and Fitz smirked, "Yep, they're both meeting us there."

"Caliphonia," Gabriella said, and Fitz nodded.

"Where Daddy used to live," He tried not to laugh at her toothpaste filled mispronunciation, "Ok,
rinse it out of there, ok?"

Just as he said it, there was a noise downstairs, the front door opening after being unlocked. There
was a little beeping, from the alarm that was always set, and he watched as Gabriella's eyes
expanded to about three times their normal size. Olivia was home. He tossed the hand towel over his
shoulder as she ran out of the room in front of him.

"Mommy!" She called as Fitz followed her towards the stairs.

"Where's my baby girl?" He heard Olivia's voice call, "Where's my beautiful little Gabby?"

"Mommy!"

Fitz watched from halfway up the stairs as Gabby ran into Olivia's waiting arms. Seeing them together
was enough to heal any of the damage that had been done to his heart. This was where he was
supposed to be, and he knew it. Everyone was safe, happy, and grown. Teddy was in Elementary
school in California, and they had him most weekends, holidays, and summers. Karen was in college
in Boston and they saw her almost as much as Teddy. He walked over. He gave his wife a small kiss
on the lips, and then took a step back so she could familiarize herself with her daughter. There was so
much that he wanted, and most of it started with putting Gabriella to bed first, but he would wait.

"Mmm, I missed you," Olivia told her, kissing the top of her head as she knelt down, letting Gabriella
stand but be eye level as she went through her purse, "I brought you some presents."

"You did?" Gabriella smiled.

"Here's your elephant," Olivia handed her a small stuffed elephant, "For your shelf."

"He's so cute," Gabriella smiled, hugging it.

"Why?"

"Because you miss me," She replied, then recited, "Because elephants never forget, and they're so big
because they love so much."

"And this, for our trip tomorrow," Olivia smiled, showing her a new coloring book and some crayons,
"Mm, I love you so much. Can I put you to bed, or do you still want Daddy to do it?"

"Both you and Daddy?"

"I think we might be able to arrange that," Fitz said, wiping the stray toothpaste from her face, leaning
down so that she could hop on his back, "C'mon, it's time for the princess to go to bed."

"I think Mommy should pick the story tonight," Gabriella yawned, into the back of Fitz's shoulder as
he walked up the stairs, Olivia spotting them from behind.

"Be careful with her up there," Olivia said, and Fitz chuckled as he set her onto her feet at the top of
the stairs.

Daniel had fled, he wasn't sure where the would-be Secret Service Agent was, but he didn't really
feel the need to push the matter. The head had been cut off of the snake, and the next head wasn't on
him. It wasn't going to be on him. There was a knock on the door as he was coming to, once his head
had stopped spinning, and his brain had returned to his skull. He froze; not sure who would be there,
but then heard the door open anyway.

"Mr. President?" Huck's voice traveled a little shakily, and Fitz sighed.

"Liv sent you?"

"She did," Huck had replied, "You should go - I'll take care of this, and your secret service agent.
Daniel? Olivia said..."

"Let him go," Fitz replied, "He's not going to do us at more harm."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes."

"You should go, Mr. President," Huck replied, "She'll be happy to see you."

"Yeah," Fitz was still a large amount of shock, Eli still on the floor, Jake still in his chair.

"Go," Huck had encouraged him, "I'll take care of all of this. No one will even know by morning - I
assume they put this room on a loop, but I'll check that, too."

"Ok," Fitz said, taking a breath, running his hands through his hair, "I better go."

"Mr. President?" Huck stopped him.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Not a word," Fitz requested, and Huck nodded, "To anyone."

Huck nodded, showing that he understood 'anyone' included Olivia. She didn't need to know the
details of how her boyfriend had killed her father. No matter what her father was, no one needed
those sort of details.

"Yes, sir," He replied, and Fitz nodded as put on his coat, and went to leave the residence.

There were two agents outside his door – Fitz barely could bother to wonder if they had been under
Rowan's thumb, too. He walked by them without too much of a thought, and headed down to the
garage, to convince the agents there to transport him to Olivia's. He half wondered if she would slam
the door in his face, but he sent up a few prayers on the way over. Convincing the agents to take him
out wasn't as hard as convincing Tom to take him, which was oddly something that he'd missed. He
was expecting backlash, someone who cared whether him leaving the White House was in his best
interest. The agents that he had found were more than happy to do whatever he asked, no matter what
their protocols and guts said.

"Thanks," Fitz said, more because he should as they opened the door for him, and he stepped out in
front of Olivia's apartment building.

There was a minute, when he was standing outside of Olivia's apartment where he almost felt like he
understood her - hopefully previous – pathological need to run away. But he took a deep breath, not
sure what he could really do. He could feel his hair out of place, there felt like there was a grime all
over him, but he knocked on her door anyway. The door swung open just about right way. She stood
there for a second, their eyes locked before she threw her arms up around his neck.

"Oh, thank God," She said, as she went up on her tip toes and kissed him.

The relief washed over him as he lifted her up, tossing her legs over his hips as he carried her
backwards into the apartment. Only vaguely aware that Hal was slipping out the door as.

"He can't hurt us anymore, Liv," Fitz told her, breaking off just to speak, and she never questioned it
any further.

Fitz crossed his legs as he looked up at the skylight and laid down on the bed. Olivia was still getting
ready for bed, she usually wouldn't let him touch her until she had showered, and gotten herself
comfortable. He thought of it as one of the perks of having a long distance marriage, one of the few. In
some senses, it was almost like they were still newlyweds – which wasn't something he was going to
complain about. So he laid there, waiting for her in his boxers, on top of the covers.

"Hey there, Mr. President," She smiled as she slipped up onto the bed next to him.
"Hi," He grinned as she snuggled against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, "Mmm, I missed
you."

"I missed you," She replied, as he leaned in and kissed her, much more intimately than he had been
able to before, with her hand pressed into his chest.

"I love you," He mumbled into her shoulder as she kissed up the side of his neck.

"What if they hate me?"

"It's a little late for that now," He replied, his hand on her hip, slipped under the Navy t-shirt she liked
to sleep in.

"No, I mean at the opening," Olivia said, and he furrowed his brow, leaning back on his pillow.

"It's my library - what're they going to do?" He asked, "I won't let them bar you from it."

"Be serious," She said, stroking her fingers through the side of his hair, "I mean the press, what if they
–"

"What're they gonna do?" Fitz asked.

"I just think maybe introducing your new family to the public at your library opening…"

"Liv, what's it matter at this point?" He said, pressing his forehead to hers, "We're happy, and they
don't get a say anymore."

"I was thinking more about Gabby," Olivia replied, and Fitz kissed her head.

"She'll be fine," Fitz said, "No one's going to get near her here, and it was bound to come out
eventually."

"I know."

"Especially now you're going to be here," He replied, and she smiled.

"Bout damn time, huh?"

"I'm not complaining," He replied, pausing to kiss her, "Now, before we derailed here…"

"Yes," She replied, snuggling her face into his chest, "I did say I missed you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I got that from all the late phone calls," He teased her, "You were only gone a few days…"

"I missed you," She said, "Isn't this the breakthrough you were waiting for?"

"Getting sexy phone calls from my wife in the middle of the night?" He asked, "I mean, it would be
better if she could just roll over and wake me up."
"Well I can now," She said, rolling herself so that she was straddling him, her hands down on his
shoulders, pinning him down to his pillow, dipping her head down to pepper his neck and chest with
kisses, "You going to keep teasing me, or are you going to shut up and kiss me?"

He didn't miss a beat as he flipped them over, so she was against the mattress, slipping his hand up
underneath the long shirt. He could feel her shiver as he pressed his palm against her breast,
massaging her in sync with the way his lips were moving against her neck. She grabbed onto his ass
as he pulled them both under the covers, wrapping them up until he could feel her whole body
temperature rising against his own skin. Until she was starting to tug at the thin cloth of the t-shirt
herself. Which he gladly helped her remove. Then, she did one of the sexiest things that she did – she
rolled onto her back and spread herself out, closing her eyes – just waiting to be worshipped. He
obliged, with his lips, tongue, and finger tips to her extraordinarily apparent pleasure.

"Mmm," She slipped her hands underneath the band on his boxers, "Baby."

Three solid nights on the phone, and he could hear the impatient tone to her voice. She stroked him
slowly, with her whole hand trying to guide him out from behind his boxers, and up against her clit
instead.

"Be gentle," She reminded him, already out of breath as she let the tips of her fingers run across his
tip.

He hugged tight to her as he entered, trying to keep as much skin to skin contact as possible while still
keeping most of his body weight away from her. He could feel his muscles tearing, fighting with his
brain as he honored her request. She started to nibble lightly, until she apparently didn't have the
capacity to do so anymore. He felt her shake in his arms, bringing him along with her as he tried to
cushion their fall back onto the bed.

"Fitz. Fitz," Olivia woke him up hours later.

"Mmm? What is it?" He asked, his eyes slipping open, "Round two?"

"No."

"Liv, its only ten weeks, you're not showing, and he's not moving," Fitz replied, as she moved his
hand over, low on her stomach, "I'm not even sure why you're so sure it's a boy."

"Because it feels different than Gabby," Olivia said, "And of course I can't feel anything… he's just
making me feel sick. Sometimes when your hand's in the right spot…"

"Ok."

"Ok?" She asked as he leaned up against the headboard, and pulled her into his lap.

"Where's it need to be?"