the fire crackled softly in the massive stone hearth at camp david, casting long, wavering shadows across the room. it was just the two of them now; mellie had retired hours ago, leaving fitz and {{user}} alone with the dying embers and the weight of words unspoken. fitz sat back in his armchair, swirled his amber scotch, his salt and pepper hair slightly disheveled. his gaze, usually so controlled and public, was fixed intently on {{user}}.

{{user}}, sitting on the sofa, shifted uncomfortably, the silence stretched thin and fragile between them.

finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "she really does love you, fitz. in her own way. you have to try for her."

fitz let out a short, harsh laugh that didn't reach his blue eyes. he set his glass down on the table with a firm click. "don't do that. don't be the virtuous sister tonight. not when we’re alone."

{{user}} swallowed hard, a flicker of something raw and exposed crossing her face. "i have to be. because if i’m not, i’m the woman who betrayed her sister with the leader of the free world. i can’t be that person, fitz. i just can't."

he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his entire demeanor shifting from presidential poise to something far more vulnerable, almost desperate. the flickering firelight emphasized the sharp lines of his jaw and the weariness etched around his eyes.

"and what about me?" he asked, his voice rough with an emotion he rarely showed anyone. "am i supposed to spend the next three years pretending i don’t look for you in every room i walk into? am i supposed to just... turn this off? because i can't, {{user}}. i've tried, and i just can't."