Downfall

Let Her Go

"I haven't seen much of you these past couple of days," Cyrus observed, taking a seat across from Fitz who watched the older man from over the rim of his scotch tumbler.

"You knew where to find me," Fitz mumbled, loosening the black tie around his neck and heaving a sigh as he swirled the decadent amber colored liquid in his glass.

"It didn't seem like you wanted me around."

"I didn't want you around," Fitz stated, slamming back the rest of the liquid and staring at the empty glass.

"That's real nice," Cyrus huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking Fitz in the eye.

"I didn't want the cold, calculating campaign manager, Cy," Fitz began, turning to the bottle of scotch on the table beside him. Pouring himself and Cyrus a glass, he continued, "I needed a friend and I know how hard it is for you to separate business from friendship."

"So you decided to banish me instead?"

"Don't be so melodramatic, Cy," Fitz remarked, handing the older man his glass before slumping back into the chair behind him.

"Alright," Cyrus started, slowly, as he took a sip of the alcohol, "Why did you replace me then?"

"I needed space. I needed to make my own decisions. I can't go on allowing you and Mellie to run things." The haunted look on Fitz's face caused Cyrus to bite back the scathing remark he wanted to make.

"Is that why you chose her? She's easier to control?" Cyrus wasn't expecting the dry, sarcastic laugh that Fitz gave him.

"That's funny," He commented, mock toasting Cyrus before taking a swig from his glass. Cyrus raised a brow in his boss's direction, waiting for an explanation.

"Olivia would be harder to control than you or Mellie, Cy. She can see past her own emotions and ambition. She's a thinker and a doer – you and Mellie...you're plotters." Cyrus tilted his head as he listened to Fitz's jumbled speech, wondering just how much the younger man had had to drink to make him this open.

"Plotters never win, Cy. They're selfish – so selfish they can't see past their own wants to make the right decisions...the winning decisions."

"So..." Cyrus cleared his throat, loosening his tie, "Where is Olivia?"

"She went home," Fitz answered, fixing his eyes on the wall behind Cyrus's head and growing silent.

"Here." Fitz handed Olivia a glass filled to the brim with Pinot noir. She accepted the glass, taking a tiny sip as she eased herself onto the cream colored sofa.

"What made you choose politics?" Olivia questioned, watching Fitz grab his own glass before sitting beside her.

"I feel like it chose me," He shrugged, "It runs in the family. My father was a senator."

"Do you like it?"

"I don't know. I haven't had time to figure it out on my own. Mellie's always pushed me toward it. She likes the idea of having power and Cyrus...he's been with me from the start. My dad made sure he joined my first campaign and I feel like he's been controlling me since." Fitz's honesty stunned him as much as it did Olivia. He hadn't put those feelings into words with himself, yet, let alone someone else.

"For what it's worth, I think you'll make a great governor," Olivia smiled, patting his arm and sipping her wine.

"Maybe."

"You have some good ideas."

"What about you?" He changed the subject, growing uncomfortable with the subject at hand.