Even Lovers Drown CH 46

Wait for me.

She’s weighing the words he’s said to her. Fitz can see it every time they meet. Whenever there’s a break in their war-room planning, there’s always a glance or two that shows it to him.

She doesn’t know what a balm to his soul they have been. His mind soaked her presence in like a sponge. Parts of him began to heal. It is a slow, and imperfect and painful process.

They move forward, but the dance is still awkward. They’ve lost their rhythm and there’s no way yet of knowing if they’d find it again. It’s two steps forward and one step back. And sometimes a third step to the side. It’s complex. There’s pride and pain, the foundation between them is cracked in many places, still connected in others.

But there’s progress.

Work is progressing; the briefs being put out by the communication department, vetted by both Olivia and Jocelyn are working. World opinions are beginning to weigh in, and while they openly debated the merits and detritus of the country’s stance, they are slowly starting to turn in their direction.

Those who might have been against them, are calculatingly silent at the moment, watching, studying all the dialogue that is winging its way back and forth across the oceans and continents, also watching the responses of their own friends, allies and adversaries. Most importantly, it is Fitz and his administration directing the narrative on the world stage and it’s starting to feel - hopeful.

There’s success.

Unexpectedly they are all summoned to the Sit Room in the earliest hours of the day. And there, on the screen before them, was the fruits of their labor.

A picture appeared of a shrouded man. When he spoke, his voice was deliberately distorted.

“To show the world that we are not animals, that we only seek to serve our people and our faith- we have decided that we will release the women that we hold. This we do only to show our strength of will and our mercifulness.”

Muted sounds of relief whispered around the room. They fell silent as the speaker continued.

The voice went on. “But do not fool yourself into believing that our mercy has no limits. It does. And if pushed, we will not hesitate to prove that what we say is true. Our demands stand as before.”

The screen went dark. Fitz felt an enormous flood of relief rush through him. He sat there, quiet  as the facts sunk in, while all around him people stood and shook hands, pleased as possible at this meager victory.

Meagre it might be, but it was a victory. He only wished he’d been able to do more. A small smile crossed Fitz’s face. He felt eyes upon him and he looked up just in time to catch Olivia’s eyes watching him. In that brief moment, Fitz knew that she understood the mix of emotions he was feeling.

She nodded in acknowledgment even as her expression softened; Fitz knew that she meant to reassure him that he’d done all he could do, and what he’d done was right. She gave him another tiny nod. He returned it.

And both of them smile, just a little.

//**//

Suddenly, before he was ready, it was the evening of the State Reception. And he is looking forward to something other than his duties and the execution of their plans.

He’s looking forward to seeing her.

The night of the reception, he’s at his desk, working until the very last moment, waiting for his hostage team to join him. Well, at least for Jocelyn and Cyrus; Olivia had begged off. No doubt she was busy making herself beautiful.

The thought brought a smile to his face even as a knock on the door came. A moment later, Jocelyn and Cyrus entered.

“Mr. President.” they both greeted him.

Fitz closed the folder on his desk and stood to greet them.

“Thank you for coming.” he said to them, giving them another smile. He meant it. With everything that was happening, he’d needed to rebuild an inner circle to rely on. No one man could hold the presidency on his own, despite what those who didn’t know didn’t realize. It would, it could break a man.

His trust in Cyrus was no longer all it should and could be, but that, Fitz thought, was a casualty of war. Everyone had their priorities and Cyrus’ was to keep him, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III firmly and decisively in office - and him, therefore, Chief of Staff and a power behind the throne.

Not for the first time, Fitz wondered if Cyrus was living his own dream of the presidency through him, knowing that for a man like it, it would forever be denied. He knew Cyrus better than the man gave him credit for. It would probably kill him, Fitz thought with a ghost of a smile, if Cyrus knew that Fitz knowing this dead dream of his caused him to exhibit a deep and abiding compassion towards the older man.

Fitz turned his gaze towards Jocelyn. She was dressed in a bronze sheathe of a dress, with a filmy long scarf that she had draped around her shoulders. On one hand, she wore a unique hand-bracelet, one that banded her wrist in gold, and by a series of delicate chains, attached themselves to rings on her third and fourth finger, where baguettes of topaz and diamonds sparkled where they caught the light. They were matched by long single strand earrings crafted of the same stones.

As she noticed his gaze on her, Jocelyn lifted the scarf, twisted it deftly until it lay like a head-covering, framing her face and accenting the glow of bronzed eyeshadow and lips.

“Not quite a hijab, but for our more conservative guests, it might please them to see someone at least attempting to honor their customs.” she said.

“And you wear it well. You look stunning.” Fitz told her and meant it. “It’s a shame that I won’t be escorting you in on my arm.”

“Well, that’s my responsibility tonight.” Cyrus said as he smiled at Jocelyn. “And my pleasure as well - Madame Envoy, you give great accessory.”

They all laughed.

Cyrus’ phone rang. He spoke into it briefly and his eyes went bright with triumph. He hung up. “The word just came in. The women hostages have been released near a British embassy. They are scheduled on the next plane out, with medics aboard.”

“Yes!” Fitz exclaimed even as one hand came up to clench the air in a triumphant fist.

Jocelyn exhaled. “Saints be praised.” she breathed aloud.

Fitz felt a weight come off of his shoulders; they had done it. The mission was not complete, but they had accomplished part of it.

“We still have a lot ahead of us, I know.” Fitz said. He turned and headed for side table where the decanter of scotch and several glasses sat on a tray. “But let’s just take a moment to celebrate this success, small as it may be.”

He splashed some liquor into a glass for himself - gave Cyrus a wry glance - he knew the man didn’t care much for scotch. Fitz paused and looked at Jocelyn. Maybe scotch was too strong, maybe she’d prefer something else.

Jocelyn read his look. One eyebrow arched. He thought that she couldn’t handle a shot of scotch? Well, obviously he didn’t know her all that well.

“Please.” she said. Happy in the moment, she didn’t think the president would mind if she let some of her natural attitude creep in. In fact, he might enjoy it - people being themselves around him.

She was right - he laughed. Jocelyn wondered for a moment if she had ever heard him laugh - really laugh - before.

Then they were all standing together on the presidential seal, toasting one another. To Fitz’s surprise, Jocelyn knocked her drink back as easily as he did.

“You’re a woman of many surprises.” he told her.

“I’ve heard that many times before.” Jocelyn said with a grin. “People are always surprised by the things I know.”

Fitz laughed. “I don’t doubt it. I’m just glad you’re on our side.”

“Always, Mr. President.” she held out her glass for a refill with a challenging gleam in her eyes.

Fitz laughed and poured a second round for all of them. Even Cyrus accepted a second shot.

They touched their glasses together once more and downed their drinks together.

“I know this evening is just as much about work as anything else, but I also want the two of you to try and relax and enjoy yourselves.” Fitz told them. “You’ve earned it.”

“I could say the same to you, Mr. President.” Cyrus said. “You might try for a little relaxation yourself.”

Jocelyn nodded and agreed. “It is supposed to be a party, sir.”

There was another knock at the door and then Mellie was there, beautifully gowned in an ice-blue gown that fit her very well. She must have also done her homework, for she, like Jocelyn, had chosen to drape her shoulders in a filmy veil of pale blue gauze.

“Am I interrupting something?” Her eyes were bright, calculating and inquisitive as she looked from one to the other. Yet her smile remained intact.

“Not at all, Madame First Lady.” Cyrus was quick to move to defuse her. “I have just had the pleasure of informing the president and Mrs. Martin, that our female hostages have just been released. You would agree that was reason to celebrate, yes?”

She didn’t miss the warning glance he sent her way.

“Of course I do.”  She agreed smoothly, without missing a beat. Mellie ignored Cyrus’ meaningful gaze, moving smoothly across the room to stand by Fitz. Too casually, she lifted his glass from his hand. “I understand you all have been working very very hard for this - so let me add my thanks to my husband’s.” She sipped the remnants of his drink but was unable to keep from making a face at the taste.

Fitz tried not to grin, but almost involuntarily, his eyes went to Jocelyn. She was doing the same as he and it only made it harder for the both of them not to laugh aloud. Her eyes were full of silent laughter and it forced Fitz to pretend to have to cough, so he could get something out.

Cyrus, as usual, was not as amused as the people around him. After all, if Mellie decided to get her knickers in a twist tonight, he’d be the one worrying about the fall out more than anyone else.

“I do not watch All My Children.” he muttered under his breath as he crossed the room and poured his own drink. “I live All My Children.” he tossed the shot down. I could have run a television network...

I. Also. Hate. Scotch, he remembered, just as the golden liquor seared his throat.

It seemed that Mellie had decided to ignore that little moment. Instead, she sent another smile around the circle. “But where’s Olivia? I would think she would be here toasting right along with the rest of you at such great news?”

Cyrus shrugged as though it were nothing. Things had been at a simmering truce lately between the president and his wife and it was a mission of his to keep it that way.  That meant the less said about Olivia in her absence, the better. He entertained himself for a moment with the idea of what if Olivia had been there. Mellie wouldn’t have dared say a word.

“I spoke with her earlier; but we’ve just received this update minutes ago.” Cyrus glanced at his watch. “She should be on her way to the reception right now and I’ll make sure she’s brought up to speed right away.” he explained.

He couldn’t resist a parting barb. “I’m sure our Olivia has made herself beautiful tonight. A gorgeous woman, our Liv. Such an asset to this administration. I’m sure she’ll do us proud tonight too.”

Oh, and if looks could kill, Madame First Lady, I’d be a stain of blood on the carpet, he chuckled to himself.

Mellie smiled. It wasn’t quite as pleasant as her first one, although she pretended otherwise. “Oh, that’s right - I heard that she actually has a date. Some naval officer from the Pentagon, I was told- of course she would want to enter on his arm. I’d say that was a quite a coup on her part.”

She very carefully did not look at Fitz as she dropped that little piece of news on him and he was just as carefully did not react. No doubt she’d come here just so she could let him know of Olivia’s plans herself.

“It’s a shame that you can’t wear your dress whites, honey.” she said, slipping one arm into his. She looked at Jocelyn. “Naval men look so dashing and handsome in them - it’s one of the reasons I fell so in love with him so quickly after we’d met.”

Mellie let her eyes travel over Jocelyn. “You’re looking lovely, Jocelyn. I’m sure our foreign guests will find you most approachable. Some of them have the strangest attitude still about women - are you sure they will be able to take you seriously?”

“If I please our guests, it’s because of the work I’ve done in the region.” Jocelyn said, smiling just as falsely charming back at Mellie. “Your husband appears to have the good sense not to let beauty alone determine a woman’s worth - surprisingly enough, more leaders from that region share that sentiment - if only behind doors. Of course, not everyone is privy to such information. Trust me when I say, my word has weight where it’s needed.”

Women. Cyrus thought. That was an exchange of claws if ever he saw one, even if he didn’t know what triggered it. His eyes met Fitz, who wisely said nothing, but there was something in the president’s eyes that Cyrus wasn’t sure he cared for. Must all the women in the president’s life be so - complex?

“Well, that’s why Fitz is here in the Oval Office. He knows how to best use the tools at his disposal for the task at hand.” Before anyone could react to her words, Mellie looked up at her husband with a smile. “It’s time to take our place in the receiving line.”

With Mellie on his arm, and Cyrus and Jocelyn walking behind him, Fitz headed out towards the ballroom. The news of Olivia arriving with a date had been a jolt, and his mind seethed with it. He was barely aware of Mellie’s chatter as they made their way to the ballroom.

Did he like it? Not one bit. There had been no reports of her seeing anyone so he did wonder who it could be. But it didn’t matter. Not even Mellie’s petty little power plays and catty words mattered - though he would make a point of apologizing to Jocelyn before the evening was over.

But Olivia was going to be there.

That mattered. It might be the only thing that mattered.