Scandalous love || Fitzgerald Grant

Crash and burn 3

Huck sits at his desk, fingers drumming lightly as he stares blankly at the screen in front of him. The sound of footsteps breaks his trance, and he looks up to see Olivia and Elizabeth entering the room. Olivia hesitates, searching for the right words. "Huck, I don't want to ask you to do this because... it's not who you are anymore," she begins, her voice wavering."You want the body," he states, his voice low and unflinching.

Olivia meets his gaze, her expression pained. "I know what I'm asking of you, And if this is too much—if you can't do it—you have every right to walk away. We'll figure out another plan." Olivia says as Huck clenches his jaw, a flicker of old instincts battling with his desire to stay in control. "I'll handle it," he finally says, the words heavy with the weight of his decision.

Elizabeth, sensing the tension, steps forward. "Let me go with him," she suggests, her voice calm but insistent. She turns to Olivia, looking for support. Olivia nods thoughtfully, considering the idea. "It's smart. Huck, if you need reeling in, Elizabeth could help." Olivia explains but Huck shakes his head firmly. "I got this. I'm good to go. No problem."

"Huck..." Olivia trails off looking at him concerned as Elizabeth sighs. "I don't need a babysitter," he snaps, his voice harsher than intended. Elizabeth narrows her eyes, crossing her arms. "This isn't about babysitting. It's about having backup. I'm not asking, Huck—I'm telling you. I'm coming with you." Elizabeth says making Huck stare at her, his face a mixture of irritation and grudging respect. The room is thick with tension as he considers her offer. Finally, he lets out a sigh, the fight draining from him. "Fine," he mutters, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips as he sees the relief in both women's faces.

"Thank you, Huck. We're grateful,"

....

Meanwhile, at the White House, Fitz is slouched in his chair, feet casually propped up on the desk, as he absentmindedly scans a paper. Suddenly, the door flies open, and Cyrus charges in, barely able to contain his excitement. "DiGrazzo flipped! It took a lot of pork and a guarantee of heavy campaigning from you in New Jersey come midterms, but we're only three away now!" he exclaims, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. Fitz slowly lowers the paper, his expression unreadable. He watches Cyrus with an unsettling calm.

"Amanda Tanner's dead." Fitz says dropping the bomb. Cyrus pauses for a second, his smile faltering. "How sad," he replies sarcastically, glancing at the paper Fitz was reading."Aren't you gonna ask how it happened?" Fitz questions , watching Cyrus closely. "No. Should I?" Cyrus questions, his tone dismissive. "A young woman died. A member of this administration," Fitz states, his voice laced with seriousness. Cyrus rolls his eyes discreetly. "I said how sad I was. Didn't you hear me? I'll say it again. How sad. Let's lower the flags," he retorts, his sarcasm biting.

"For God's sake, Cy, show some respect," Fitz snaps, slamming the papers down on his desk. "One hundred twenty innocent Americans—children, moms and dads, best friends, husbands and wives—died in that plane crash. That's sad. We lost one of the few sane and worthy members of the Senate. That's sad. Four Navy SEALs died in Afghanistan, and that doesn't even touch Sudan, Congo, northern Mexico. That's sad. But the disturbed girl who made it her life's mission to take down this administration, the one who was happily—no, gleefully—carrying your illegitimate bastard child? She's no longer with us? I'm sorry if I'm not sitting shivah. I'm sorry if I can't help but see the millions of people we'll actually be able to help now that Amanda Tanner is gone. I am sorry, but this is a good thing. It's a good thing for us. It's a good thing for the country." Cyrus explains. Without waiting for a response, Cyrus pivots on his heel and marches out of the office, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Fitz remains at his desk, the tension in the room thick as he stares after Cyrus.

.....

Meanwhile, at headquarters, Stephen comes into the room, determination etched on his face as he shrugs off his jacket. "I got it," he declares, drawing the attention of the team gathered around the table. Olivia straightens up, her curiosity piqued. "You got it?" she asks, leaning forward. Quinn furrows her eyes, studying Stephen intently. "Got what?"she asks. "Mechanic's report," Stephen replies, a hint of pride in his voice. He begins sorting through a stack of papers on the table.

"How'd you get it?" Abby probes, skepticism lacing her tone as she shoots a questioning look at Stephen. "I got it," he repeats, more assertively this time, meeting her gaze with a challenging glance. "I bet you did," Abby retorts, crossing her arms, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

Stephen ignores the jab, focusing instead on the papers in front of him. "I looked through 200 reports—every inspection made on this plane in the last year. These are two separate reports," he says, pointing emphatically at the documents. "This one is signed and dated by a mechanic in Phoenix last fall. This one's signed and dated by a mechanic here in D.C., just a week ago—the last inspection before the crash. No problems reported in either."

Quinn's brows furrow as she scans the paper. "That's bad for us, right? That means the plane was fine." She questions. "Read line four," Stephen instructs, his tone clipped.

"Power controll unit," Quinn reads aloud, but trails off, confusion creeping into her expression. "Notice anything?" Stephen prompts, his eyes narrowing as he studies her reaction.

Quinn looks from the paper to Stephen and back again. "He misspelled 'control,' but—" she says before getting cut off by Stephen.

"Line four," Stephen interjects, his finger hovering over the line."Oh, it's misspelled here, too," Abby observes, her voice rising in disbelief as she examines the paper closely. "What are the chances? Identical reports submitted by different mechanics in different cities, months apart?" she muses, glancing around the room.

"The D.C. report is fake," Abby realizes, the gravity of her words sinking in as Stephen nods in agreement. "So the last inspection of the plane before it crashed was forged?" Quinn asks, disbelief flooding her voice. The team exchanges stunned glances, at the information they just found out.

As they discuss the new evidence, Harrison leans closer to the tape recorder, focused intently on the playback, ears straining to catch any overlooked sound.

....

Elizabeth and Huck step into the dimly lit storage room, the musty air clinging to their clothes as the scent of dust settles around them. The shadows cast long, eerie shapes across the room, and Elizabeth takes a deep breath, steadying herself before glancing at Huck.

"Ready?" she asks, her voice firm but laced with a hint of tension. Huck turns to face her, his expression unreadable for a moment as he assesses the situation.

"You shouldn't have come with me," Huck finally says, his voice low, tinged with a rare vulnerability. His eyes flicker with concern, betraying the unease he's trying to mask.

Elizabeth meets his gaze, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and resolve. "Huck, I'm not going to stand by and let you do this alone. We're in this together, whether you like it or not," she replies, her tone unwavering as she steps closer to him, her presence solid and reassuring. "Let me help," she insists, her words leaving no room for debate.

Huck studies her for a long moment, his defenses starting to crack under her unwavering resolve. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly as he exhales a heavy sigh, realizing she isn't going to back down. "Alright," he finally concedes, his voice softer now, a trace of gratitude hidden beneath his resignation.

Elizabeth gives him a small, encouraging nod, her eyes never leaving his. "We've got this, Huck. Trust me."

For the first time since they entered the room, Huck allows a brief, faint smile to cross his lips, the weight of the task ahead feeling a little lighter with her by his side. "Let's get to work," he says, his voice steady.

Finally done. How was it???

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