Even Lovers Drown CH 19

"You disgust me." Fitz said, his voice filled with ice as he turned his back on her. He walked to one of the windows and stared out, not even wanting to look at her in this moment.

His moving away from her had no effect; Fitz felt Mellie follow him. He could feel her nearness and he had to fight with himself against the nausea that filled him because of it.

"And some days the feeling is mutual. But, husband - you're also transparent. If you think that I'm going to stand by and pretend to be blind as to what's going on, Mr. President" - the last two words were weighted down with heavy sarcasm. "Then think again. Oh no, Fitz - I'm not going to stand around and just watch it happen this time around - once was more than enough."

Fitz didn't trust himself to turn around; unconsciously, his hands closed themselves into fists. "That sounded suspiciously like a threat, Mellie."

"Did it?" Her voice sounded as though she didn't seem too worried about it.

She should be; Fitz thought to himself. Holding himself very carefully, he turned around to look at her. Mellie's eyes were sparkling with a mixture of malice and satisfaction.

He reached out one hand and jerked her close. There was no tenderness in the action, and it was his turn to feel a sense of satisfaction as he saw a trace of shock leap into her eyes.

His voice dropped to a whisper that held the strength of steel in it. "Don't."

"Don't what?" She tried for a show of bravado, but she went pale. That and the look in her eyes ruined the effect.

"Whatever you're thinking you want to do. Don't." Fitz said, speaking slow enough so that he could be sure that she heard every single word. "Don't make insinuations. Why? Because you couldn't be more wrong. Don't stick your nose in where it definitely does not belong."

He released her arm and watched as Mellie involuntarily took a step backwards from him. "And don't ever presume to make a threat towards me again."

Away from him, Mellie struggled to recover her composure and hide her sudden fearful reaction. "I don't intend to threaten you, Fitz. I promise you that I will do whatever I have to do if I find out anything unsavory concerning you and Jocelyn Davis-Martin."

"And I promise you - if you do anything that interferes with the running of my administration - you'll find out just how far I will go to protect it. You might try to do something - but I will do whatever I have to do if I find out anything that compromises my ability to do what the people elected me to do."

His last sentence shut her up. Just as he thought it might.

Fitz turned away from her. "Now, if you're done, will you excuse us so that I can get back to work?"

/**/

Cyrus was surprised to find Jocelyn Martin the outer office when he returned. Her gaze was on the Oval Office doors and her expression was slightly apprehensive.

"Has there been any new developments?" he asked.

Jocelyn looked at him briefly before her eyes went back to the doors. "I don't know - is the unexpected arrival of the First Lady considered a development?"

"More like an unnecessary distraction." Cyrus lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"Hear what from you?" Jocelyn asked in perfect understanding.

"I have no idea." Cyrus replied; they shared a knowing look and smile between them.

"I don't know how much previous contact you've had with the First Lady -"

"Not much..." Jocelyn said.

"Be grateful." Cyrus replied, casting his eyes heavenwards for a moment. "Just be warned - be careful of whatever you say around her. She's - well, let's just say she's strong-willed and ambitious."

"Sounds like a volatile mix."

Cyrus let out a sigh. "That, Mrs. Martin, is one of the understatements of the year."

She raised her eyebrows in response. "I don't doubt it - I just had a taste of it. But I'll consider myself warned."

Cyrus wanted to ask her more about the full measure of the role the president had asked her to play, but he never got the chance. Before either of them could say anything else, the Oval Office's door was jerked open and the First Lady came stalking out of the room. She didn't look or speak to either one of them as she left the area.

"Jocelyn?" they both heard the president call out. With Cyrus gesturing for her to preceded him, they re-entered the Oval Office.

"My apologies for the interruption." the president said to her.

She waved it away. "No problem at all, sir."

He turned his eyes to Cyrus.

"Here's the reports you asked for, sir - would you like to go over them before Mrs. Martin takes them?"

He shook his head. "That won't be necessary - she's already agreed to help and I value her trust in the matter. Jocelyn also needs to have updates on the situation as often as necessary. Make sure that you take care of that as well."

"It will be handled as you say, sir." Cyrus nodded in agreement, and handed over one set of the folders to Jocelyn.

In turn, she murmured her thanks before she turned to retrieve the briefcase she'd brought with her. She dialed the computer lock open and placed the folder inside.

Cyrus' eyes were veiled as he watched her. She'd obviously been prepared to receive those reports and he couldn't help but wonder what else she knew that he didn't.

He turned back to the president to realize that he'd been watching him. Had he been waiting to see his reaction? That was something Cyrus didn't want to ponder at the moment. "Speaking of situations, sir, the personnel you've asked for are gathered in the Situation Room waiting for you."

"Thank you." Fitz replied. He looked at Jocelyn. "I think it best if you attend as well."

"If you think so, then of course, sir." Jocelyn replied. "May I have a moment to call my husband and tell him that I'll be later than I expected? I don't want him worrying about me unnecessarily."

"Of course." Fitz replied. When she had excused herself to the outer office, he turned to find Cyrus watching him carefully.

"Is there something you had to say, Cyrus?" he asked.

"I don't know, sir - would you listen to me if I did?" Cyrus asked, his voice tense and low.

"If you have something to say - then say it." Fitz snapped.

"Very well then. I find it strange that you are arranging private meetings with White House personnel without my being knowing about it." Cyrus said. His expression made it very clear that he didn't merely find it strange - he didn't like it. "I find it strange that said personnel is obviously being briefed on matters that - again - I know nothing about.

Fitz didn't care whether he liked it or not. Resentment at Cyrus rose up like a deep tide from somewhere dark inside of him, filling him to the point of overflowing. "Do you have a problem with Jocelyn Martin?"

"The problem isn't Jocelyn, sir." Cyrus' tone was as stiff as his body as he stood before him. The only thing alive in his face was his eyes. They were cool and glittering like arctic ice.

"It isn't?" Fitz saw his opening and took it. "I made a decision to bring in a trusted member of my administration and it looks as though you don't approve of her."

"Why is that?" He purposefully twisted the knife. "Is it a matter of trust?"

Fitz was gratified to see a crack in Cyrus' armor as he took in his words. Something in the other man's face changed slightly - was it guilt? Shame? Whatever it was passed over him like a shadow and for a moment Cyrus looked ill.

It gave Fitz a twisted sense of pleasure to see it; after all, he'd been sickened by what he had discovered. It still came back to haunt him during his all too many sleepless nights, so why should he suffer alone?

That same sickness - the same pain of betrayal came washing back like a tidal wave over him again. Fitz moved back behind his desk, gathering some papers into a second folder. He pretended to study them as he picked up each sheet, but the fact was that he didn't want to - couldn't - look at Cyrus right now. His head pounded and it was all he could do to stop his hands from shaking while his stomach did a slow roiling as the first memories of betrayal knotted it into painful cramps.

"Not at all, Mr. President. It's just that it's my responsibility to help you with these matters - and you're not using me the way you have done in the past." Cyrus replied. "It just seems out of the ordinary."

"We aren't dealing with ordinary times, though - are we?" Fitz said. He raised his head to look Cyrus squarely in the eye. "I need all the people that I can trust around me these days - and you would agree that there are very few these days, I can trust - isn't that right?"

"You have to always be careful, sir - but I believe you can trust your gut."

Did Cyrus realize what he'd just said? Was it unintentional or a deliberate dig at him. Did it matter? Once upon a time, those words had had the power to make him smile. But now? All they served to do was to remind him what he'd lost. And why.

And then all anger and all the pain threatened to crash upon him in a fresh wave of emotion and threatened to drown him unless he drowned it first. His throat cried out for a drink - anything to dull the pain. Unconsciously, Fitz shook his head. There was too much to do and his wants were the least of his concerns.

"Glad to hear that you have trust in me, Cyrus - although sometimes, I wonder..." Fitz found that couldn't let go of the chance to throw Cyrus off-balance once more. He hadn't been like this before his discovery about Defiance and there was still part of him that was ashamed of himself. Fitz allowed himself a moment of clarity. What did he want? he wondered to himself. Did he want the other man to admit to what he'd done? What would he do if he did?

Another silence fell between them, lying there like dust - arid and dry - and suddenly, very draining. Suddenly and unexpectedly weary of the rage and the pain, Fitz pretended to return his attention to the last of the papers he was gathering while he struggled to strengthen his will. He didn't notice how he was crushing the edge of one page in his hand.

Cyrus did.

The silence between them lay there until Cyrus cleared his throat. When Fitz looked up again, the other man had repaired his armor and showed Fitz nothing more than his usual expression. There he was - his attack dog, his dragon. Ready to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. There he was, the king of Fitz.

Long live the king.

Bitterness flooded his mouth.

Cyrus was looking at him carefully. After a moment, he took a deep breath, gathering himself. "Is there something we need to talk about, sir?"

His task completed, Fitz looked Cyrus in the eye. "I don't know, Cy - is there?"

Cyrus met his gaze. For a long moment, neither one of them spoke. It was Cyrus who dropped his eyes first. "No - no, sir I guess not."

Fitz walked past him without another glance. "Well then, let's get to work."