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Clandestine

Chapter Text

Balloons dropping, people erupting in applause, the hit "Don't Stop" by Fleetwood Mac playing in the background. One would think that given the energy of the crowd in Little Rock, Arkansas, Governor Bill Clinton might have already clinched the 270 electoral votes needed to win the Presidency. But no. His campaign has barely begun. He had just finished his campaign kick-off speech in front of thousands of supporters gathered in the state capitol in Arkansas.

His kick-off rally initially didn't attract much attention from the national media, but it surely would change after this. Local press swarmed the event, and its success would certainly generate positive coverage, and in no time, Bill Clinton would certainly be seen as a major contender in the 1992 presidential race, alongside Senator Paul Tsongas of Massachusetts, Senator Hillary Rodham of New York and Governor Jerry Brown of California.

Bill waved and smiled in front of his adoring crowds while his family beamed proudly at him. His advisors, James Carville and George Stephanopoulos, were shaking each other's hands and were hugging following their candidate's successful kick-off. The rest of the Clinton campaign staff, huddled behind the stage, celebrated the night with pizza and beer.

Amidst the celebrations, there was one person who was not in a celebratory mood. Dennis O'Keefe, a CIA undercover who is working as a lawyer in a firm specializing in campaign laws, wasn't there to support the governor, but he was very happy for his former colleague and friend. O'Keefe had known way back then that running for president was Bill's dream, and it elated him to see it happen to fruition.

Once Bill got off the stage, O'Keefe quickly switched from celebratory mode, to work mode. His trained eyes quickly caught site of Bill's security. He quietly made his way to the holding tent where Bill and his inner circle huddled. It wasn't easy moving from where he was to the foot of the stage, as the people were still rejoicing. But once he was within distance of Bill's security, he flashed his CIA ID. Bill's security promptly questioned him about his intentions with the governor. He said he was there on government business. The young man who stood guard picked up his walkie talkie and alerted his superiors about O'Keefe's presence.

O'Keefe waited fifteen minutes before he got a response from the higher-ups. He had heard from the walkie talkie that it was Bill himself who had granted him access. O'Keefe thanked the young security guard and he was shown to the tent. When he entered, he found Bill being adored by his doting mother in the makeshift couch.

"I'm so proud of you, Billy. I've always known you'd get here. Oh the countless times I've seen you practice your speeches whenever you run for student council..." Virginia Clinton recalled fondly as she hugged her son.

"And I couldn't have done it without you, 'Ma," Bill said with a tenderness that O'Keefe had rarely seen in him. "You've been with me all the way, the ups and the downs..."

"And I'll always be here for my boy!"

O'Keefe felt a little comfortable watching this mother-and-son lovefest so he backed off a bit so he wouldn't be seen, but it had the opposite effect. Bill's eyes glanced to his corner, and the presidential candidate beamed at the sight of his dear friend.

"Dennis!" Bill roared in delight. "I wasn't expecting you to be here!" Bill stood up and hugged his friend. "I am so happy that you came."

"As am I, Buddy. As am I," Dennis said. "You were great back there. I look forward to prime inauguration tickets."

"Of course, man! You can hold the Bible if you want!" Bill joked.

"I am sure your Mom will be mad at me if you did that," said O'Keefe. He then turned to Virginia and extended his hand. "Dennis O'Keefe, Ma'am. Bill's only friend in DC," he winked.

"I have heard of you," Virginia shook O'Keefe's hand. "So glad that you're here to support Bill."

"Of course, Ma'am. Of course."

"What brings you here, man? Government business?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. I'm here to bring you the presidential daily brief. Might as well give it to him now because he's going to win," Dennis chuckled.

"You hear that, Ma?" said Bill with a mirth in his voice.

"I hear him. I hear him," Virginia replied.

"So, where can we have that briefing, eh?" Dennis said. Knowing him for years, Bill sensed that Dennis was serious in wanting to have a priivate conversation with him so he asked everyone to leave the tent, except for Carville and Stephanopoulos, who remained on Dennis's request. Once everybody left, the celebratory mood immediately turned serious.

"What's going on, Bill?" asked James as he sat across Bill and O'Keefe. George sat next to James

"Guys, this is Dennis O'Keefe. He's a buddy of mine from my CIA days. He still works for Clandestine Services," Bill introduced.

"As Bill's campaign managers, I suspect that you are aware of his involvement with the CIA. Otherwise, I would suggest that you fire your oppo resaearch firm," said Dennis.

"We are, yeah," replied George.

"Good, because I need you all for a mission."

"I was afraid you're gonna say that," said Bill.

"I'm sorry, Buddy, but what I am asking you is not easy, but I wouldn't have asked for your help it wasn't urgent or important."

"Well, if it's a matter of national security, we are prepared to help the government," said James.

Bill nodded appreciatively at his campaign strategist. The governor, being a former CIA operative, was keen to assist his former colleague. However, he wasn't sure if his top campaign advisors were on board. Thankfully, they were.

"Great," said Dennis. "And do not worry, we have already did background checks on you, and we have assessed that we can trust you with the information that I am about to share with you."

"Okay," James was listening intently.  

"As you know, the Cold War had just ended recently, culminating in the collapse of the USSR. However, the Russians are still trying to revive what was left of their old empire before it is too late. And one of their plans is to activate their asset here in the US to influence the US foreign policy."

"Typical," said Bill, unfazed by the intel. "I assume that you want us to be watchful of the people who will approach our campaign."

Dennis shook his head. "That won't work. Because based on our sources, it seems that Russia had been cultivating a candidate for years, and that candidate has declared their intention to run for president."

Dennis's pronouncement left the three other men in the room with their jaws dropped. They have never heard anything like this plot, even for Bill who was ex-CIA.

"This is like the Manchurian Candidate shit," said George.

"Are you serious? And how sure are we?" asked a befuddled James.

"We have corroboration. It's highly unlikely that this is a trap or a smokescreen. We are quite confident that this plot is real."

Bill wiped his face with his hand. "We have a Russian spy among Rodham, Tsongas and Brown. Do we know who it is?"

Dennis shook his head. "Unfortunately, we don't."

"Shit," exclaimed James.

"And that's where you come in," explained Dennis. "You'll be our front of our operation to identify and defeat the Russian candidate."

"But what if we are outed by the Russians?" asked Bill, concerned. "We will both be fucked if this comes out. The political shitstorm this may cause...it will destabilize our political system, not to mention the reputational damage to the CIA."

"We have thought long and hard about this, and we thought that the candidate should be defeated early on in the primaries, that's why we are approaching you."

"But why not seek the help of the Bush campaign?" asked George. "He is the President, after all."

"Don't think that we are not positioning our people there," replied Dennis pointedly. "The Bush campaign will be the last line of defense in case this candidate wins the primary."

"But what if Bill defeats the candidate? What will you do?" James asked.

"Then we will call it quits and withdraw. Our mission's done," said Dennis.

James and George look at each other before looking at their boss.

"If you decide to participate in this, then we can assure that the campaign will be ready to support you," said James.

Bill nodded at his senior advisors, appreciating their willingness to participate.

"Alright," said Bill, "I see no reason not to get involved with his. Even if I lose the election, at least our efforts are not for naught. I'd hate to see this country go down in the hands of our enemies."

Dennis smiled, and the mood suddenly brightened. "Spoken like a true patriot. You haven't changed a bit, Bill."

"Thanks."

"So when will we expect your people?" asked James.

"In a few weeks. I myself will get invovled. Maybe we can schedule fake interviews? You can interview me first and then I'll recommend several people for you to interview. Don't worry. They are competent people."

"That sounds great," said George, who is in-charge of hiring the senior staff. "Can I have your card?"George and Dennis excanged business cards for the fake interview.

In a span of fifteen minutes, Bill's aspirations for his campaign turned upside-down, but he was prepared for it. He was an ex-CIA after all. If the security of the country is at stake, he is prepared to put his ambitions aside.

Dennis bid them all goodbye shortly after the meeting. His body was exhausted, but his spirits were never higher, and his new mission only increased his resolve to win the presidency. If he wins the White House, he would make sure that Russia cannot threaten the security of the United States.

Meanwhile, one thousand two hundred thirty-three miles away, an undercover for the KGB just sent a wire back to Russia.

"Ready," the wire said. 

Chapter Text

Hillary finished her plate of spaghetti inside her campaign van as they travelled across Iowa for their third campaign stop for the day. She was supposed to have a small gathering in a waffle house before carting off to a cocktail party sponsored by an Iowa organization who pushed for the ratification of the ERA in the state. AS usual with the campaign, her lunch was late and she had to eat while traveling. 

Behind her was her trusted staff, Huma, who was dozing off. Her spokeperson, Nick, was making a call to a reporter from the New York Times to issue a correction about their recent reporting about Hillary. No, Robert Reich did not date Hillary but she went out with him once. 

"They never get their facts about you right," Nick complained when he finished the call. 

"What's new," Huma rolled her eyes. 

"If I had ever vote for every time the Times make a wrong report about me," said Hillary. 

"You'll win in a landslide," finished Huma bitterly.

"Ditto," Nick agreed.

Hillary pushed the now empty box of spaghetti away and leaned back, tapping her belly. "I'm stuffed. Are we still on schedule?"

"Yeah," Huma double checked the time. "We should arrive at Bruce's at 4."

"You want to read your speech again, Hill?" Nick asked his boss.

"Sure. I can't sleep anyway," said Hillary, extending her hand to receive the speech.

When they arrived at Bruce's Diner, Hillary was received by the chair of the county Democratic Party who endorsed her. Parents carried their children, especially the little girls,  over their shoulders so that they could see the presidential candidate.

Once inside, she spent a good thirty minutes shaking hands of everyone in the room. Finally when everybody settled down, Hillary took her place in the table in the middle of the diner where everyone could see her.

She began her speech tackling childcare and early childhood education, which was near and dear to her heart. She moved to healthcare, then to jobs and then to taxes. Finally, she touched the subject of foreign policy.

Among the Democratic candidates, Hillary was the one with the most foreign policy experience. Being a member of the Senate Foreign Affairs and Intelligence committees, she alone could wage a credible foreign policy debate. However, it wasn't a strong point for her. Americans were still hesitant to vote for a woman as commander-in-chief, no matter how qualified she was, and that fact frustrated her.

Once she finished her speech, she invited everyone to ask her questions.

The first question came from Anne Dover, who was a student from the University of Iowa. She was concerned if she would be able to find a job after she graduates. Hillary smiled to herself, knowing that this was right up her alley. She answered the student by detailing how her jobs plan would expand job demands and help people match the skills needed by employers.

Another local, Drew McNabb, was concerned about rising healthcare costs. Hillary offered her healthcare plan, where, with the help of a Democratic majority in Congress, would encourage mass enrollment so that the risk pool would diversify and this the premiums would plummet. She also talked about expanding Medicare and Medicaid. At the end of her response, Drew admitted to be preferring Bill Clinton but he was now persuaded to vote for her. Hillary and her staff were delighted to hear the news.

The third person to ask Hillary a question was Peter Hollingsworth. Peter was a Cold War veteran who recently returned. He was worried that the successes of the US would be wasted if the presidency would be turned over to a Democrat. Hollingsworth reasoned that Democrats are dovish in general and the US might cede the responsibility of keeping the Soviet in check.

Hillary put her game face on and responded.

She said that while it is true that she would rather prefer diplomacy over the use of military force, she emphasized that the US has other methods to keep the Soviet in check, such as sanctions and geopolitical power over the region (the new Soviet states are friendly with the US). Also, she mentioned that the US has allies such as UK and France that could also enforce sanctions against the Soviet if necessary.

Hollingsworth seemed satisfied, but he had one more question.

"I am happy with your planned approach to the Soviet," said Hollingsworth, "but I am still concerned about your recent position on USSR. For example, you said in one of your hearings that you hope that one day, we can work together with the Soviet Union. I find that position against what America stands for. I did not risk my life just to the US and the USSR would suddenly lock arms and walk hand-in-hand."

Hillary was a little irked that Hollingsworth blew her comment out of proportion. Nevertheless, she put on her kindest face and addressed the issue head on.

"I did not say that we trust the Soviet right away," she defended. "What I meant was that I long for the day that we can establish trust and maybe one day, we can be truly allies. Isn't what diplomacy is about? Establishing ties and forging alliances?"

Hollingsworth tried to parse Hillary's answer, but he couldn't find anything to argue with so he thanked her for the response. Hillary breathed a sigh of relief knowing that she avoided a potential trap.

The rest of the Q&A went smoothly. When the Q&A was over, the kids were allowed to approach her. Hillary took interest in a kid who had blonde, shoulder-length hair, clad in a skirt and suit and had an H pin on her chest. She looked like a mini-version of Hillary. Everyone said "Awwwwww!" when she let the girl sit on her lap. They even posed for photos.

When the event was over, Huma and Nick were almost pumping their fists. They got inside the van and sped off to the nearby county for Hillary's last event of the day.

"Damn, Hillary. You're so unlikeable and scary, that kid ran off to her Mom!" blurted Huma, who was mocking the press coverage of her boss. Indeed, the kid ran off to her Mom because she was too shy to approach Hillary but her warm demeanor endeared her to the girl.

"You won't hear the press talking about that," Nick bemoaned,  referring to the encounter with the girl. "It goes against their narrative."

"Bet they won't cover the New Hampshire rally we had a few days ago. Five thousand people!" said Huma, waving her arms in the air.

"Everyone in the press seemed to have fallen in love with Bill Clinton," Nick said, pushing his glasses to his nose as he opened a copy of the Post. "The media can't stop talking about him after his kick-off rally."

Hillary rolled her eyes as she rested her head against the window, removing her shoes and pulling her legs to her chest. "Typical. The press loves to find someone they can fall in love with, and he fits the bill, no pun intended. Folksy, charming Southerner. And good looking too. What's not to like about him?"

Huma and Nick exchanged knowing looks.

"You like him?" asked Huma.

Hillary snuggled against the window, trying to make herself comfortable as she tried to take a nap. "I said he's good looking, which is an almost universal fact. That's far from saying I like him."

"Fair point," Huma conceded.

"Just you wait," Hillary yawned, "they'll going to pit me against him. Me, the steely, pain-in-the-ass, liberal feminist Senator from New York against the charming, folksy, good-looking Governor of Arkansas. I bet a million bucks it'll happen."

"It will," Huma lamented.

"Don't worry," Nick assured. "You have one edge over your opponents."

"And what is that?"

"Squeaky clean record," said Nick as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Each of them have issues: Brown has his cuckoo years, Tsongas his health, and Clinton, the gazillion women he had slept with."

Hillary tried to look surprised,but in reality, she was well-briefed of the other candidates' weaknesses.

Before Hillary fell asleep, she looked at the window and admired the radiant colors of the sky. She was certain that one day, her chances of winning the presidency would be as rosy as the skies in Iowa.

Chapter Text

The auditorium of the University of North Carolina was abuzz with excitement for the first Democratic debate. NBC and the Wall Street Journal sponsored this debate. Tom Brokaw and Tim Russert  were slated to moderate. All of the four major contenders were in attendance. The stakes for the first debate could not be higher. As all of them were running neck-and-neck in the polls, whoever is the apparent winner of the debate would enjoy a bump in the polls and pull ahead of the field.

Bill Clinton's team huddled in a small conference room at the back of the auditorium. Bill was having his last minute mock debate with Dennis as the fake moderator as James and George critiqued his responses.

"I'm feeling good tonight," James clapped Bill's shoulder. "You're in tip-top shape."

"Thanks," said Bill. "Where will you be, Dennis?"

"I'll be at the spin room," Dennis replied. "And I'm going to give the auditorium a quick look. I might get some clues as to who our mystery candidate is."

"Good idea. But be sure to listen in once in a while. You don't want to be caught unguarded," reminded Bill.

"Don't worry. I can handle it," assured Dennis.

Meanwhile, inside the makeshift headquarters of the Rodham campaign in the UNC auditorium, Hillary sat in front of the mirror as her make-up artist put the final touches in her face.

"There, Senator," said the make-up artist. "Ready for primetime."

"Thanks." Hillary stood up and admired her look. "I like it."

"Thank you, Senator."

"Hillary!"

Hillary turned around. It was Robby, her campaign manager.

"What up, Robby?" asked Hillary.

"I've got good news," replied Robby, who was smiling ear to ear. "Internal polling shows you're finally out of the margin error. It means that you are officially in the lead."

Hillary was delighted. "This is great, Robby!"

"Indeed. Moreover, in each of the messages we tested, the most vulnerable is Governor Clinton. Be sure to put the pressure on him. With any luck, he'll crumble."

"Duly noted," Hillary took the polling report from Robby and began to read. "What else?"

"Your ground game in the early and Super Tuesday states is going quite well. I heard that a group of strippers organizers a "Strippers for Hillary" lap dance event in Florida.

"No kidding!"

"Nope. Totally legit. It was a fundraising event. Proceeds were donated to my campaign. The organizers say they like your stance on abortion. They are in favor of loosening the regulation on abortion, like allowing third trimester abortions."

"But I am not in favor of that," Hillary pointed out.

"As long as they go out and persuade people to vote for you..."

Hillary felt a little uncomfortable at the thought of deceving voters but she pushed that feeling out and tried go concentrate of the upcoming debate. A staffer from NBC called her attention to announce that she was supposed to be in the holding room. Her campaign staffers bid her good luck before letting her leave.

She was the last candidate to be in the holding room. Clinton, Tsongas and Brown were already inside. The three men, who were huddled in a circle, turned their heads towards her direction when she arrived.

"Ah, there's our muse," said Brown.

"The rose among the thorns," remarked Tsongas.

"Good to see you, Senator," said Bill.

Hillary was secretly annoyed by Brown and Tsongas's remarks, but shook their hands nevertheless. Clinton's greeting was better than the other, but Hillary felt like he was treating her like a Southern belle. Her eyes quickly parsed his body language. There was this condescending demeanor from him that she didn't like. It was like he was openly surveying her, and she did not like that.

Nevertheless, she couldn't help but notice his large hand that completely enveloped her own. Those long elegant fingers...

Tsongas and Brown didn't bother talking to Hillary after the initial pleasantries, so she was forced to talk to Bill.

"This is it, eh? Face-to-face. I can't wait," said Bill giddily.

"I know. I hope all of us do well. In the end, everyone wins," she replied.

"Indeed," he agreed, still looking like he was having the time of his life, and this intrigued Hillary. She was surveying him with deep interest, as much as she could without him noticing.

"But I won't promise not to hold back. As much as I respect you, I can't wait to beat you," she said, smiling.

"The guns are out, eh?" Bill chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll give you my best shot."

"By all means, please do. There's nothing that I couldn't handle."

Before Bill could respond, they were called by the floor director to settle behind the stage. The debate was about to start.

One by one, Brokaw called the candidates on stage. Being the sole lady, Hillary was called first. She entered the stage with the biggest smile, waving at the crowd and to the millions of viewers who were watching the debate.

Unbeknownst to her, a pair of eyes were glued to her body. Bill Clinton was momentarily distracted by her heart-shaped bottom and the glorious curves of her hips. He had never seen anything like her body, despite his numerous rendezvous with women in his lifetime. He had a sudden urge to press his hand on that beautiful, beautiful bottom. Oh how soft they must be...

He was so deep into his that he didn't realize that he had just gulped. He should thank this lucky stars that he was hidden behind the stage otherwise the entire nation would have seen him ogling his fellow candidate. He snapped back to reality when he heard his name called. He waved to the crowed before settling on the podium directly opposite to Hillary.

For better or for worse, it was only then that he noticed her piercing gaze. What was incredible was that he could see the sparkle in her bright blue eyes from across the room. Damn. He was hellbent in surveying her demeanor and intentions earlier when they briefly chatted that he didn't realize how beautiful she was, and it was unfortunate that it had to occur him just minutes before he was about to debate her.

Behind the stage, Dennis was keenly watching the candidates as they debated each other. As expected, not one of them held back. They all went for each other's throats. But Dennis could not help but notice Senator Rodham's fierceness. Her claws were definitely out. The Senator was known for being prepared and doing her homework, and tonight, it showed. She has hit the other candidates where it definitely hurt, much to his chagrin. She even made a subtle reference to Bill's propensity to change girlfriends in her answer on women's rights and abortion.

"In other words, I believe that abortion should be safe, legal and rare," Hillary said.

"Thank you, Senator Rodham. And now, we move on to the candidates' closing statements," said Russert.

Bill, Hillary, Brown and Tsongas each gave their closing statements. As the debate drew to a close, Bill had no trace of exhaustion in his body, despite the cut-throat debate that he just had. His spirits were high, and he was eager to get back to the campaign to spread his message of hope. 

He found Brown and Tsongas exchange pleasantries in the stage. He joined in to congratulate the two, but he quickly left for the Senator from New York, had just spoken with Brokaw. 

"Congratulations," Bill greeted her from behind, and she jumped in surprise. "Great debate, by the way."

"Thank you," she replied, and Bill was struck by her piercing gaze again. Somehow, he had forgotten how to breathe until he realized his lungs were screaming for air. 

"You did great there," she added, beaming at him. This time, his stomach flipped. 

"I almost thought I wouldn't survive. I love the fire in your belly. You've the fiercest debater I've ever seen," he returned the compliment. 

A small blush crept on her cheeks. "Thanks. I'm glad I gave you a run for your money."

"You sure did. And all of us emerged better. Thank you," he said.

"I've never heard anyone thank me for giving me a hard time," she said, a little flustered by Bill's compliment. 

"I love debating. I love going out there and expressing my ideas against others. And from where I am standing, I can tell that you love debating too. And you're really good at it," he said truthfully. 

"Yeah, I am," she replied, locking eyes with him. "I look forward to the rest of the debates. I do hope you're there all the way."

Bill chuckled. "I take that as a compliment that you'd like me to be your main competition. I promise that I'll be there until the end."

He noticed that she was genuinely glad that he intended to fight this primary until the end, and for the second time, his belly did a backflip. Unbeknownst to him, he was drawing closer to her, and she to him. Their personal boundaries had been crossed. Bill could see the wisps of her golden hair and her eyelashes. Being close to her...it felt so natural. And those lips of hers...God they looked so soft and pink...

"Hillary!"

Bill's trance broke when he heard her senior staffers call her from behind the stage. Hillary politely bid him goodbye to join them. Bill wanted to follow her, but it would be prompt not to. He had a campaign to get back to after all. He decided to look for James and George. He could probably use some fries. 

Two blocks away from the auditorium, Dennis spotted a man who was using the payphone. Thankfully, the CIA already had that payphone tapped. 

Chapter Text

Polls showed, much to his surprise, that Bill was the apparent winner of the debate, and his performance earned him the slight edge ahead of the Democratic field. Bill was confused. He really thought Senator Rodham did very well. She pummeled him hard, especially on his weak spots. He did not at all understand why he emerged as the victor. 

"It's because she's too hard on you," James explained, reading the polls as he sat in the couch in Bill's hotel room. "Nobody likes a woman who beats up a man."

"But she's running for president," he attempted to reason out.

Of course she's expected to project strength," James replied, "But there is such a thing as being too strong."

"Nobody tells me off for being too strong," argued Bill. "In fact, it's seen as a positive for me."

"You're a man. She's a woman. That's the difference."

"Exactly. Sexism."

James annoyingly placed the report on his lap and took off his glasses. "Why are you defending her?"

"I am not. I am just befuddled how an extremely qualified woman is much less appealing than an average man."

"So you admit that you're average."

"Well, no," Bill caught himself. "I am competent but you have to admit, she's more competent than I am and a better debater."

James let out a frustrated sigh. "You're right. But that doesn't mean she's fit to be President."

"What else do you need for a president other than competence?" Bill shot back.

"Heart! Likeability!" James replied, his voice higher. "You know what, I don't want to argue. This is pointless. The important thing is that you're in the lead. 

Bill tried to calm himself. "You're right. I'm sorry."

James seemed pacified by Bill's apology and left the room so the latter could rest. Bill, on the other hand, remained bothered and at times guilty that he was receiving this undeserved victory. 

In New Hampshire, Hillary and her team huddled in the large dining table in her hotel room. They were confused and frustrated as to why Bill Clinton emerged as the apparent winner of the debate when everyone in the team agreed that Hillary did best. The worse part was that their internal polling had Clinton in a larger margin over her. 

"This is bad. Our strategy didn't work," Robby bemoaned, rubbing his forehead. 

"It means we shift strategy," said Joel, her pollster. "We are going to try to project her as a mother. I think everybody is now aware of her strength. We need to project a softer image."

"We can't do that, Joel. She's single and childless," said Paul, her deputy campaign chair. "How can we project her as a mother?!" 

"Okay, okay. Let's all calm down," Hillary shut down her senior staff, her temper silently brewing from Paul's backhanded remark. "We still have time. The Iowa caucus is still three weeks away."

"Unfortunately, Hill, I have to agree with Paul and Robby," said Nick. "We need an earth-shattering development to shake the race. Like some woman coming forward to accuse Clinton of impropriety."

Hillary's blood turned cold. This was not the development she was expecting. She put her heart and soul into her campaign, yet she still fell short. The primary contest was just about to begin, but she might as well call it over. 

She instructed her senior staff to come up with a new strategy by morning and then went off to bed, her heart and body heavy from the devastating news. 

Meanwhile, a phone call interrupted the panicking staff. The receptionist in the lobby had asked for Paul. Apparently, he had a visitor downstairs. Paul asked to be excused but promised to return quickly. 

At the lobby, an old friend of Paul was waiting for him. The last time Paul had contacted him was several months ago in Cyprus. 

"Kostya," Paul shook his friend's hand. 

"Paul," acknowledged Kostya, his Russian accent heavy. "Do you have it?"

"Yeah. Let's go somewhere. The men's room, perhaps?"

Paul and Kostya went to the men's room, which was mercifully empty. Paul, unnoticed by his colleagues upstairs, left the room with a manila envelope. He handed the envelope to Kostya, who took the contents and began reading it. 

"This is...?"

"Internal polling, yeah," said Paul. "It's all yours."

"Good. This is real shit you gave me. We managed to obtain the others' as well."

"You know what to do," said Paul.

"Of course. We have the best guys. We are ready for this," assured Kostya. 

"Alright. I'll be off. I don't want them to notice anything."

"We won't leave traces," said Kostya. 

Kostya watched Paul leave for upstairs before leaving the hotel himself. He hailed a cab and sped off to the airport where his private jet was waiting. 

---

Everyone in the Clinton campaign HQ in Little Rock stood in shock as they watched the dire developments unfold on TV. Elaine Owens, a waitress at a diner in Fayettevill, came forward and accused the Governor of raping her. Everyone stood in anger and disbelief. Some where pumping their fists in frustration, while others chanted a litany of curses at the TV. 

But no one was angrier than Dennis. He felt blindsided by this sudden development. He should have expected something like this would happen. Bill was gaining ground in the polls. It was all but certain that his opponents would try to hit him where it hurts, and they could not have picked a worse timing. With only five days away from the Iowa caucuses, there wasn't enough time to recover from the damage this would cause. 

Dennis immediately went to the phone and dialled his colleagues in DC. 

"You're seeing this?" Dennis asked Bob, who was his partner at the firm and another undercover CIA agent.

"Yeah. Watching it on CNN," replied Bob. 

"Do you think they have something to do with it?" asked Dennis. 

"I am not sure, but we are already working on it now," Bob assured. 

"But we still don't any clues about who did this," Dennis pressed. 

"No, we don't."

"Shit. How can we recover? Losing Iowa will be a deadly blow."

"The obvious recipient of this mess is Senator Rodham," said Bob. 

"Do we have any indications that she's the Russian candidate?" 

"No," Bob replied. "We already looked that the wiretap from UNC and compared it with the intercepts we collected. All learned is that the candidate's codename is Asset 69."

"Asset 69? Really?" said an incredulous Dennis. 

"Yep. Not kidding." 

"I suppose this has anything to do with oral sex?" 

"I think not. Or at least, there was no indication of such," said Bob. 

"Oh thank God," said Dennis in relief. "I don't think I can handle it if it does."

"Focus, man. Focus," Bob said impatiently. 

"Right, right. So, what do we do now?"

"Attack. All of them," said Bob. "Nevermind that everybody would look bad after the primary. The important thing is that the Russian candidate loses. Either to the Democratic nominee or to President Bush."

"So basically what you're proposing is a suicide mission," Dennis gulped. 

"Yeah."

Dennis rubbed his forehead, a headache imminent. "I'll have to discuss this with Bill."

"Alright. That seems fair."

"Let me know what he thinks. The CIA will unleash its material the moment you give us a heads-up."

"I will."

"Alright, talk to you soon. Bye."

"Bye."

Bill had seven events the next day, but it did not stop him from almost finishing a bottle of Johnny Walker in the private bar of the Holiday Inn in Des Moines. He wasn't a heavy drinker, but he really needed something strong, going against the advice of James and George. There were already calls for him to bow out of the race. He needed something to numb the pain of his impending defeat. He needed to grieve the death of his presidential ambitions.  

But the private bar of the hotel wasn't exactly private, because several feet away, Hillary was watching him with pity. While she was the automatic beneficiary of his votes, she couldn't help but empathize with him. She knew that it was a hit job. A false accusation. But the damage was done. He could deny all he wanted, but once the air was cleared and everybody realized that it was one big hoax, his presidential aspirations were over. It would be hard for anyone to bounce back from a defeat in Iowa. 

Hillary locked the doors and approached him. He must have been very drunk because he did not realize her presence right away. Seeing that he had too much to drink, Hillary gently pulled the glass and the bottle away from him. 

"There, there," she said, "that's enough."

"You're not my mother," he slurred. "Go away."

"I am not," she replied. "But I am your friend."

"I don't want to be your friend," he said angrily. "I don't want friends."

"Alright," she said stiffly. "I am just a regular bar patron." She helped herself with a glass of Chardonnay. "There. See? I am drinking too."

"Yeah, yeah. You're drinking wine while watching your opponent fall from grace," Bill said. Even when drunk, Hillary found Bill to be incredibly articulate. "Go on, laugh like a mad woman. Laugh!"

"I am not here to laugh at you, Bill. I am here to comfort you," she said. 

Her words struck him, and eventually, he could not anymore his tears, so he cried and cried in her shoulder. 

"There, there. It's alright. Let it out," she cooed. 

"Maybe you should go," he said. "Maybe someone will make trumped up charges of how I forced you or something."

"No one will," she assured. "You can cry with me. No one will know."

The safe space and the comfort that she offered was exactly what Bill needed. He cried and cried, much more than he had ever cried in his life. In the shoulders of his opponent, no less! But Hillary was kind. She did not judge him. She only offered solace and a listening ear, and Bill felt safe with him. When he held her hand, she did not flinch, but she laced her fingers with his. 

In time, Bill began to recover his faculties. All that crying helped him become sober. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "I am such a total mess."

"It's alright," she replied. "You looked like you're on the verge of quitting, and you promised me that you'll be with me until the final debate."

Of course. He had made that promise to her during the debate in UNC. "I did say that, yeah," he replied. 

"You're not going to balk on me now, are you?" she asked. 

He sighed. "It's hard, you know? Everybody is telling me to bow out. It's hard to defend an accused sexual predator."

"Which we both know is untrue," she said, and he blinked. "I know your history. We did oppo research on you, of course."

"And you can't refute what that woman said," Bill remarked bitterly. "Political suicide."

"Yeah," Hillary replied sadly. 

"Either way, I am toast," Bill said. He stood up shakily. Apparently, he was not in total control of his faculties because he knocked Hillary over, causing her to spill some of the Chardonnay she was drinking, and the clear liquid splashed into his pants. 

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm so sorry."

"No worries. My dress is fine. But you got Chardonnay all over you. Here..."

Hillary grabbed a table cloth and wiped him clean. It was too late when she realized that the Chardonnay spilled in his crotch, and she was dabbing dangerously close to his private area. But in order to hide her mistake, she pretended like nothing was happening. But in reality, something was indeed happening. She could feel him harden under her fingers, and his breath became slow and labored, like Darth Vader breathing under his suit. 

And something was happening with her too. Her curiosity of discovering what was underneath his pants grew painfully inside her. She was dying to know what he feels like inside her, because she was certain that he was thick and throbbing. Her insides clenched as her imagination became wilder and wilder, but she fought every urge to open his zipper and have a peek at the real Bill Clinton. 

"I'm sorry," she apolgized when she couldn't take it anymore. She stormed out of the bar leaving Bill hard, horny and heartbroken. 

Chapter Text

The days leading to the Iowa caucus were marred with ugly revelations, mudslinging and below the belt tirades among the Democratic candidates. Governor Brown accused Hillary of being a corporate shill. Senator Tsongas admonished Bill for his less-than-progressive record, and the two remaining candidates for their lack of accomplishment. But the most vile of them all was the bombshell report from the New York Times that Senator Tsongas' Hodgkin's Lymphoma had returned. The Times' story was echoed all across news networks despite strong denials by the Tsongas' campaign. It didn't help that it took several hours for the senator to release a written clearance from his doctor declaring him fit to run and, if elected, serve as President.

James, George and Dennis watched the flustered Senator from Massachussetts refute the false report and blast the Times on TV inside the Clinton for President HQ in Des Moines. They all felt disgusted of themselves as they were the ones who laid that false coordinated leak to the Times.

"Please don't make me do this again," George begged.

"I hope it's the last," said Dennis, sighing. "If the national security of the US isn't at stake, I would resign immediately."

"Our sources are definitely blacklisted from the Times," noted George. "Not after this debacle."

"I am comfortable with that decision," said James. "They are still in good standing with the Post and the others."

"As long as the others don't figure out that they leaked the false story to the Times," replied a worried George.

"They won't," said Dennis. "This is evidence-proof. The others won't know."

"If you say so," said George. "So what now?"

"We wait and hope for the best," James replied. "We are going to campaign and spread our message. With Tsongas gone, that leaves us with Senator Rodham and Governor Brown."

"Senator Rodham is a silent killer," warned George. "She can swoop right in and win Iowa. She has the overwhelming support of white women."

"We'll know for sure tomorrow when I get the final internal polling before the caucuses. But we need to remain steadfast. Get out and organize," said James.

"Well said," Dennis replied. "Speaking of organize, do you have any reports from the ground? I think the Russians should be doubling their efforts by now."

"There was a mobilization of evangelicals in Des Moines calling Senator Rodham a babykiller for her unabashed support for Roe v. Wade. Clinton yard signs had "Rapist" painted over them," replied George.

"Any negative attacks on Governor Brown?" asked Dennis.

George shook his head. "Not so much. I can see one or two hecklers in his events but nothing more than that."

James and Dennis exchanged nervous looks.

"I think he bombed the wrong candidate," said Dennis.

"I think you're right," replied James. "But I think we can pull this off. Brown's ground game is terrible."

"I hope that's true. The earlier we clear the field, the better," remarked George.

"Right," said James.

Dennis clapped James and George's shoulders. "I could not thank you enough for doing this. America is safer because of you."

George looked at Dennis appreciatively, and James let out a nod in acknowledgement.

"Our pleasure," said George.

"I'd be damned if the Presidency went to the hands of a Russian puppet," replied James. "But of course, the best way to prevent that from happening is to elect Governor Clinton "

"Hear! Hear!" said both Dennis and George.

Meanwhile, on the other side of Des Moines, Robby Mook was having a strategy meeting with the top Iowa staffers. They were looking at their latest internal polling with great astonishment.

"This...this is amazing," gasped Robby. "Unbelievable."

"Shit is right," said Paul, feeling elated.

"We know that Senator Rodham would be the beneficiary of Clinton's downfall, but I never expected that she will be the breakaway leader," said the Iowa state chair.

"What do you think about this, Robby?" asked Nick.

"This is great, but we must be very careful about these kinds of data," Robby replied. "This might be an outlier."

"I also doubt the validity of those results," said Joel. "If this is a normal circumstance, I'd say I'd wait for the next poll. But this is the last poll before the caucuses. We can't validate this."

The Rodham team was slumped despite the good news.

"So what do we do now?" asked the state chair.

"We double our efforts of our turnout operation," said Robby. "Whether this poll is valid or not, our strategy remains the same. If we turn out, we win."

"I think that's wise," affirmed Joel.

"We thread these final days with cautious optimism," said Robby. "We hope that these numbers are real, but we can't be too complacent. Only one vote separates the winner from loser."

Robby dismissed the team and everybody got out to work. When he left the conference room, he found Paul, the deputy campaign chair, waiting for him outside.

"Hi Paul," Robby greeted. "What's up?"

"I have there the numbers for New Hampshire," Paul handed Robby the manila envelope he was holding.

Robby scanned the poll results with great interest. "Wow. This is different from our previous data."

"Yeah. This is from the new firm I told you. Owned by Alexander Nix. They have a different approach in data analysis."

"This is incredible, though it looks different than the current set of data that we have," said Robby.

"Maybe we can cross-check the results with the ones that we have and then focus on what's verified," Paul suggested. "And then let's compare the other ones with the public data."

"I like that approach," Robby said. "Thanks Paul. I'll take a closer look at this."

"Great. See you around."

Paul walked away with a great sense of accomplishment and hopefulness. Little did Robby know that what Paul just handed him was the proprietary data of the Clinton campaign.


The day of the Iowa caucuses was filled with excitement and fanfare. As early as 4AM, organizers from all campaigns were out to knock doors to get voters to the polls. The caucuses weren't supposed to start until 7PM. Until then, every door knocked, every voter talked to were crucial.

Amidst the excitement and chaos outside, the opposite was happening inside the Room 418 of the Holiday Inn in Des Moines. Hillary was lying on the couch, her feet resting up in the air on top of a stack of pillows. Robby had ordered her to take some time for herself when the latter noticed that she was getting more and more agitated by each second and she began micromanaging the campaign. 

Hillary closed her eyes and let herself calm down a bit. Robby's right. She needed to take some time off, even just a little but. Her campaign was in capable hands, and she had faith that Robby would do his very best to win this crucial state. Being a skeptic of polls, she wasn't assured with Robby showed her the last internal polls before the caucuses. But with Robby's capable hands, she was confident that he could steer the campaign to victory. 

As much as Hillary felt much tension left her body, she still couldn't sleep, despite her body screaming for some rest. She decided that she would read a book in hopes that she could fall asleep. She got up and walked towards her bedside table where her copy of Little Women lay. However, she found that there was something else on her bedside table as well. 

There was a white envelope, scrawled with "Senator Rodham" in the cover. She had never seen such handwriting before. Curious, Hillary picked up the letter and read:

Hillary, 

I just want to apologize for what happened earlier at the bar. It is not my intention to hurt you nor to put you in an uncomfortable position. If you feel that I have compromised you in any way, you can be assured that I will not betray your confidence. Of course, you may think that I am doing this to protect my ass, but this is just who I am. I don't want other people to get hurt because of me. 

If you feel that you need to talk to me in private, you may reach me at 5245. You'll find me there.

Good luck in the caucuses. I can't say that I hope you win, but if you do, you can expect a gracious concession from me. 

Bill

Hillary could feel the sincerity seeping from the letter into her fingers. Her trained eye studied every loop and scrawl, and to her, there was no way that Bill Clinton was lying. The thought of him caring for her like that touched and scared her for myriad of reasons, the forefront of which was that he is her main rival for the Democratic nomination. She was no stranger to the feelings that stirred inside her, but there were more important things than her personal happiness.   

Her eyes caught the sight of the telephone. Her fingers are itching to dial his number, but her brain was pulling her arm back. Would it hurt to say "Thanks for the letter, I appreciate it"? Definitely not But Hillary knew that she had a whole universe of words to say to him, the least of which were "You are a beautiful person, despite what they say" and "Why do you stir such emotions from me even though we have only spoken twice?". Indeed, she had found him intriguing. He exudes the boyish charm anybody would fall for, including her. But at the same time, she detests the way he had treated women in the past.  

And his letter just now confused her. She could not connect the man who had been accused of multiple sexual impropriety with the man who had been so kind, kind enough to protect her from the ensuing backlash had their secret been discovered. At the odd part was that she felt that he was sincere in his intentions. She was a good judge of character; her instincts had never failed her before. So, how could this contradiction exist? 

Before Hillary could ever reach the phone, she heard her doorbell ring. She walked towards the door and looked through the peephole. Paul was on the other side. 

"What can I do for you, Paul?" Hillary asked. 

"Your aunt will call. It's important," Paul said in a low voice. 

"Oh!" Hillary straightened herself. "Please patch her in. I'll take her in my room."

"Alright." Paul left without a word. 

Five minutes had passed until there was a ring on her phone. She immediately picked-up. 

"Hello Aunt Margaret," she tried to sound excited, in case she was being listened to. "How are you?"

"Keep your guard up. Our neighbors are already aware of what we're doing," said a deep voice which had been through a voice changer, its Russian accent undeniable. "One of your rivals is a spy."

"Do we know who, Aunt Margaret?" Hillary frowned. 

"Negative," said the voice. "Just be alert at all times."

"Of course, Aunt Margaret. I love you," she said before hanging up. 

Whatever desire she had to call Bill was replaced with fear and caution. He could be the candidate who was tasked to watch her close, and his letter could very well be a trap. Of course. If he was indeed an expert in tradecraft, he could have made sure that any form of deception was hidden, even to a trained eye like hers. The warning that she had just received was a wake-up call. There should never be another personal contact with her opponents ever again.  

Hillary searched for a lighter in her bag and burned Bill's letter until it turned to ashes. As she watched the letter be engulfed in flames, her heart clenched in a deep regret. She had to do this. It was for the good of everyone. But somewhere in her mind, she wished that she had never been there in the first place. 

Chapter Text

The votes trickled in, and as every minute passed, things were looking grim for the Clinton campaign. Reports from individual precincts painted a grim picture: Senator Rodham was going to win Iowa, and in a landslide too. James and George's faces were looking ashier and ashier. Their final internal poll was way off from the actual poll in terms of percentage of the vote, but the result remained the same: Governor Clinton would lose Iowa. 

The grim news reached Bill pretty quickly, and he was ready to make the concession call before the results were called. However, James insisted that he suspend the call until their team was comfortable in calling Iowa for Senator Rodham. Bill, feeling like a dead man walking, remained in his hotel room until it was time to give his concession speech. 

He ordered for a bottle of vodka. He had sought refuge in alcohol lately. Ever since that disastrous press conference by that waitress and he ended up emptying half of the bar in his hotel and almost exposing himself to his rival. He made a mental note to be more careful and so ever since, he always drank inside his hotel room.

Bill sipped the bitter liquid, and his throat burned. The burning sensation in his throat was nothing compared to the piercing pain in his heart. His dream of becoming the President of the United States was going in flames. All his life, he had worked so hard for this moment. But it seemed that he was not destined for it. 

Then he remembered his meeting with Dennis a few months ago. He remembered what he told him, that even though he would lose, his campaign would not be in vain. With the security of America is at stake, he must persist in the race. He needed to derail the Russian-favored candidate as much as he could, even if he or she would end up as the Democratic nominee, who would face President Bush and hopefully lose to the incumbent. 

Even though he had already resigned to his fate, he must not let it show. His staffers must not know that he had already accepted his grim fate, and so he left his room and proceeded to the decision desk where his pollsters crunch the numbers. He sat there, looking eager to wait for the results, even though the people in the room were looking grim. He was trying to be strong for them, to be an example of optimism in the midst of a losing fight.

When it became clear that Senator Rodham has won Iowa, James called Bill to notify him that he had already spoken with Robby Mook and Senator Rodham was waiting for his concession call. Bill thanked James and proceeded to an empty meeting room with a telephone inside. 

Beside the phone was a card containing Senator Rodham's number. He dialed the number, and after two rings, there was a response from the other line. 

"Hello?" Hillary said quietly. 

"Hi, it's Bill," said the raspy voice on the other line, a voice that had the faintest remnants of a sob. "Congratulations, Hillary. I am genuinely happy for you. You ran a great campaign and despite the odds, you prevailed. First woman to win a presidential caucus. As an American, I am so proud. History was made today."

"Thank you," she said softly, wanting to hear more of his voice. She held her phone like her life depended on it. She had a million word she wanted to say, not one of them could get out of her mouth. She wanted to say thank you, that she appreciated his congratulations and she wanted to say sorry for intruding his privacy last time at the bar, and so much more. 

"Hello? Are you still there?" Bill asked after what seemed like an eternity of silence. 

"Sorry, I am just...overwhelmed," she stammered. "It's a lot to dig in, you know?"

"I know. It's not every day that you win a primary," he replied. 

"Yeah, that's true," she agreed. "By the way, I am sorry that this has happened. I know that you would have wanted the other way around."

"It's alright. It's life. You win some, you lose some," he said. "But what is important is that we let the American people speak out. That is the essence of democracy."

"Yeah, it's...democracy alright," Hillary caught herself from speaking foolishly. Thank God her tongue had not slipped. 

Hillary didn't know what to say, but it was obvious that the reason for her loss of words was that she was avoiding the elephant in the room, and apparently, Bill was doing the same too. They were waiting each other to bring up what happened. They were like passing the bucket on each other, waiting for the other one to grow up and to finally initiate the conversation. 

Hillary was painfully waiting for Bill to ask her to talk about it, as the moments passed, her stomach got more and more twisted. Finally, she could not bear it any longer so she pulled up every ounce of courage and brought the subject up. 

"So," she began, "about that night at the bar..."

"I hope you read my letter," he said. "I am so sorry. I hope you can forgive me. I did not intend to hurt nor harass you."

Hillary could tell that he was being gentle with her. He did not want her to accuse him of sexual impropriety. 

"It's fine. You didn't hurt me," she said. It was a lie. He hurt her more than he could imagine. 

"But I made you uncomfortable. I should have had more control," he said. 

"It's fine. You did not do anything wrong," she said. "Nothing happened. That's what matters."

"I'm not so sure," he said. "I'm not sure nothing would nothing would have happened if you left early. So I would understand that if you would guard yourself more closely if I am around, especially at the debates. We are bound to cross each other's paths at some point."

"No, really. It's fine," she said. "In fact, why don't we have coffee or eat out at a diner?" As soon as the words left out her mouth, Hillary immediately regretted them. In her effort to prove that she's fine and to put that incident behind them, She had inadvertently asked her opponent to a date. She desperately thought of how she could backtrack, but Bill already replied. 

"I am relieved that you really are not creeped out, or anything like that," he said. "I would love to join you sometime."

"Alright," Hillary tried to sound casual, but her brain was working overtime. "I'll have Huma call your chief of staff. Betsy...?"

"Betsy Wright," he replied. "She'll get in touch with Huma too."

"Alright," she said. 

"Congratulations, again. And I'll see you in New Hampshire," he said, even though he wasn't sure he would still in the race by then.

"I'll see you around. Best of luck to your endeavors. Bye, Governor."

"Goodbye, Senator."

Bill took down the phone, his heart thumping furiously. He...he had just agreed on a date with Hillary! She had asked her out! Somewhere in his depressed self, there was a part that was jumping for joy.

---

Inside the headquarters of the Rodham campaign, Hillary had just left the room full of cheering staffers and donors after addressing and thanking them. Even though she had won the first battle, the war was far from over. She had to make sure that her opponents couldn't cover more ground in New Hampshire. 

Among the candidates left in the field, Hillary knew that Governor Clinton had the potential to make an upset, so she had to thread with him very carefully. Looking back, her accidental invite to the governor for some coffee was not at all a bad idea. It would be all but certain that their meeting would generate press coverage, and being friendly to the one guy who had New Hampshire in the palm of his hand wouldn't harm either. Of course, she just had to make sure that the meeting wouldn't appear too romantic or else it would give anyone else a wrong idea. 

She decided that it was time to hit the sack. She have Huma her last instructions for the night before heading to her hotel. When she arrived, Paul, her deputy campaign manager, was waiting for her at the lobby. 

"Hillary," Paul said, smiling ear to ear, "well done!"

"I know. The worst is just beginning, though. It'll get uglier as we come closer and closer to the general."

"Don't we know it," Paul grinned. "Listen, I have it in good authority that one of the girls who had a sexual encounter with Clinton will file a lawsuit against him."

"Really? Wow," Hillary didn't know what to think of it. "Who told you?"

"Your aunt," he said. 

Hillary frowned. "Some real shit, eh?"

"Yeah. By the time the New Hampshire primary comes, he's toast," said Paul. "You just have to stay on message. Address the women without necessarily hitting Clinton. The difference in messaging will be stark. The women voters will propel you to the nomination, remember that."

"Of course. How can I forget," she replied somewhat irritably, but decided to pay no further attention. 

As Hillary climbed the elevator, she could not help but think that the nomination could already be in her hands.

Chapter Text

The idea of going out publicly with Hillary did not sit well with Bill's campaign staff, primarily because it would only reinforce Bill's image of being a ladies' man. They were already having a tough time fending off accusations of women, the number of which only increased by the day. It didn't help that Bill's primary opponent was, well, a woman, who was everything Bill wasn't. Hillary was very disciplined, while Bill lacked self-control. She had the straightforwardness of a Northerner, while he had the charm of the Southerner. He was losing the primary, and she wasn't.

Despite the chorus of objections from James, George and Dennis, Bill overruled them and insisted that he would go. But he offered a compromise. The meeting with Senator Rodham could be private so no one from the press would report on it.

"That's just silly," said James. "That's called a date, Bill. Presidential candidates don't date their opponents."

"It's not a date, it's a private meeting. There's big difference," defended Bill.

"If it's a private meeting, then what's the agenda?" George challenged.

Bill looked away, clearly stumped by the question. "I am sure Senator Rodham has an agenda."

"Just admit it. You're going on a date with the Senator," Dennis accused. "Not the best idea when you have a Russian spy on the loose."

"But if Senator Rodham is the Russian candidate, then shouldn't she let her people do the dirty work?" Bill reasoned. "Tradecraft 101, buddy."

Dennis was stumped by his friend's argument, and so he shut up.

"I still don't think you should go through this," said James. "Why are you so insistent? What does she have on you?"

"Nothing!" Bill denied a little more forcefully, but thank God nobody noticed. He didn't want to explain to anyone that he almost pounced on his main rival. "Just...let's just do it. I bet the press will eat this up. Some sort of a show of unity between rivals."

"Then why aren't Brown and Tsongas invited?" asked George. "Make no mistake Bill: the press and the public will construe this as a date.

"I don't care," Bill shut them all down. "Make it happen."

---

A small band of reporters and cameramen were camping outside a small coffee shop in Rye, New Hampshire. The Clinton and Rodham campaigns have jointly announced that they would engage in a friendly meal. To much of the Clinton campaign's surprise, the event was warmly received by voters and Bill saw a slight bump in the polls but he trailed significantly behind Hillary.

When Bill learned of those poll numbers, he couldn't help but frown. But as soon as he stepped down from his van, he pushed those thoughts aside. He smiled in front of the flashing cameras and waved to the small crowd of supporters. George volunteered to accompany him, as the campaigns agreed that only one aide was allowed inside the coffee shop, which was closed down for his much-anticipated meeting.

Bill was welcomed by the owner of the coffee shop. Always the transactional politician, he engaged the owner in a lively discussion about the struggle of keeping the coffee shop afloat. He empathized with the owner about the rising costs of coffee beans and the need to overhaul the tax code so local businesses would be incentivized. By the end of the conversation, there was no doubt that Bill captivated the shop owner.

But it was Bill's turn to be captivated when he turned around and saw Hillary enter the coffee shop. She had a tentative look on her face which highlighted her sparkling blue eyes. He knew she had several events across New Hampshire, but she looked as fresh as spring morning. If Bill had to define what ethereal was, he would describe Hillary.

Bill commanded the butterflies in his stomach to calm the fuck down and then approached her rival to greet her. They had a cordial shake of hands, as did their aides (Paul accompanied Hillary). For an awkward moment, both Bill and Hillary seemed to make a move towards a cordial cheek-to-cheek, but they both ultimately decided against it. Both George and Paul caught that small detail. Good thing it happened behind closed doors otherwise it would be the headline of the nightly news.

"Shall we?" Bill led Hillary to the booth reserved for them .

"Alright, thanks," Hillary said.

The coffee shop owner accompanied them to their booth and became their personal attendant for their meeting. They both made their orders (mocha cake and latte for Hillary, brewed coffee for Bill) and the owner left them to themselves. Once they were alone, the atmosphere became more relaxed.

"Whew, the worst part is over," Bill sighed in relief.

"I know. The response to this is unbelievable. I thought people would just be like 'Hmmmm, okay'. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that this would lead to a conspiracy theory frenzy by the right-wing media!"

"You know them. They'll make a fuss out of everything," he said.

"With the volume of papers we're selling for them, they should hand us a check," she replied.

"Ditto."

"But the mainstream media is the worst," Hillary remarked. "Imagine spending hours and hours of coverage on my hair. I'd rather devote that on my policy proposals, thank you very much."

"Precisely," Bill agreed. "Nobody asks me about my hair because I am a man."

"Yes. You get the straight coverage because you're a man, and mine is vanity because I am a woman," she replied. To be honest, she was quite flustered that a white man would admit to his privilege. But then again, it would have been more impactful if her opponent said those words in public than in private. However, she couldn't blame him entirely. If he said that, he would surely lose points with white males in a majority-white New Hampshire.

Bill and Hillary found themselves deeper and deeper into their conversation that they had not noticed that the shop owner had already placed their orders in front of them. They didn't know if it was their natural chemistry or the fact that they understood each other because of their unique experience of running for president, but they seemed to really jive. Their connection was real and raw. By the time the decided to stop, almost four hours had passed.

"Oh my. How fast time flies!" said Hillary, looking at her watch.

"I know. We were having so much fun, we lost track," he said. "What a unity meeting!"

"And to think, we were discussing policy," she realized. "I wish the debates are as fun as this."

"Indeed,"  Bill chuckled. "Say, I wonder where the toilet is? I gotta pee."

"I'll go too. I need to pee as well then fix my make-up," she said.

"Okay then. Let's look for it together."

The two presidential candidates stood up. George and Paul, who occupied a booth on the other end of the shop, stood up as well, but Bill and Hillary told them that they would stop by the toilet first before they would leave. George nodded and went to the cashier to make a phone call, while Paul hung around the shop and waited for his boss.

Bill and Hillary found the toilet, which was at the far end of the shop, out of view from where the dining area was. They were relieved that there were separate toilets for men and women, thus no one had to wait for the other to finish first before they could pee; they were having so much fun thaf neither of them realized that their bladders were already screaming.

Hillary hurried to a stall and peed. After she cleaned up, she went went to the sink and took out her powder from her bag and applied a little amount of it to remove the shine in her face. Good God. She looked like she was a tub of lard with all of that oil in her face. Bill must have thought she was ugly. Hillary kicked herself for being forgetting to powder before she came here.

She applied a fresh coat of red lipstick which had faded over the day. She had the misfortune of grabbing the one which easily fades from her luggage bag in the hotel room. She reminded herself to throw this one away so that she could never use it again.

When she came out of the toilet, she found Bill waiting for her, his hands on his pockets and looking a little bit bashful.

"I waited for you," he said.

"Thanks," she replied, feeling the heat rise up in her cheeks.

"Shall we?"

"Of course."

She waited for him to lead the way, but he wasn't moving. He seemed to be waiting for her to go first, probably because he was being a Southern gentleman. They were passing the proverbial ball, and no one seemed to want to take the lead.

Hillary didn't know what happened, but it was barely a second later when she found herself kissing Bill. She was kissing her hard, harder than she had ever done so on her life. And Bill was kissing back as hard. She had never had a kiss this fiery, this intense, this urgent. Her belly was doing somersaults a hundred times over, and her heart never beat this fast.

Her hands were eager to touch every pore of his skin, every inch of his body. The ends of her fingers were frustrated whenever she could feel his clothing, but were relieved when skin met bare skin. His hands...oh those hands felt so tender. Those long fingers were such a wonder to the touch. She could probably carress those fingers forever.

Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own because she withdrew from his grip and cupped his ass, squeezing them. A groan escaped from the back of his throat. She felt herself shrudder when his crotch came into contact with her belly. Oh God. One hand immediately withdrew from his ass and inserted itself between them, rubbing his hardness beneath his pants.

Bill wasn't going to let her have all the fun. His hand slipped under her skirt and for the first time, he got a feel of her wet panties. Oh sweet Lord. It only made him harder. He longed to explore what was undeneath her warm and moist panties, to feel her tightness and to experience the ultimate dream of making her cum again and again and again.

"Put it inside me Bill," she pleaded in between kisses. "Please, your finger."

Oh what he wouldn't give to make her cum as she pleased, but her words rang alarm bells in his head. Instead of obliging, he pulled away, looking embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Hillary," he apologized. "I musn't have done this. I know I have issues with women..."

Hillary was looking as flustered as he was. She seemed to have woken up from a dream too. "It's fine. No one got hurt."

Thank God there was a mirror where they were, otherwise they would not have seen how much of a mess they looked. Hillary's lipstick was completely smudged and Bill had lipstick stains all around his mouth. They quickly fixed themselves as if nothing had happened and avoided talking until they went out. They found George having a lively conversation with the shop owner and Paul was looking a little suspicious.

Bill and Hillary pretended that nothing had happened and spoke with the shop owner, thanking her for accommodating them. She told them that she was yet to decide who she was going to vote for, but she assured them that she would be voting Democratic in the fall, which both Bill and Hillary appreciated. After making sure their bill was paid, the two candidates separated ways.

Once Hillary was alone in her van, Paul kept giving her scolding glances. She knew what he meant, and she knew that he had somewhat of an idea of what happened at the back of the coffee shop. Of course, they could not discuss it in the van, so Paul followed her to her hotel room, where he wasted to time hashing out.

"What the fuck was going on there?!" he lashed out quietly, in case somebody knocked. "You better didn't do what I think you did."

Hillary didn't respond. She simply sat on her bed, removing her jewelry without looking at him.

"You are making yourself vulnerable. You are undoing our work," he warned. "Aunt Margaret wouldn't be too happy if she finds out."

Still, silence from Hillary.

"What if he leaks to the press? You're ruined the moment this gets out" Paul said angrily, frustrated at her lack of response or panic.

"He won't," she said calmly, her face stoic. "It will be damaging to him as well if he does. And if ever he does blab this to the press, I can always say that it's non-consensual. Given his track record, it's not inconceivable."

Paul wanted to argue, but what Hillary said made so much sense. After all, she was trained for this and he was not.

Unable to find a argument against her, Paul left Hillary alone, who was praying to Heaven and Hell that Bill wouldn't let another soul know about this.

Chapter Text

To Hillary's relief, nothing from that meeting reach the press, except for a short statement jointly released by their campaigns describing what a success the meeting was. That move effectively boxed out Governor Brown, making him look out of touch and unwilling to work with people to het things done. Even though New Hampshire is as ideological as Iowa, the voters of the state are pragmatic in terms of how they could achieve their goals, and demonstrating how to make friends in the midst of a vast difference in ideology was very appealing to them.

A week before the primary, Hillary remained the frontrunner. This was the cause of frustration from the Clinton campaign, who seemed to have never recovered from the accusations of sexual impropriety.

"Seven days left," said James as he opened his copy of the New Hampshire Union Leader inside their campaign van as they traveled from Concord to Keene. "We need to turn out as many Clinton voters as we can."

"We are doing what we can, James," said Ellie Golding, Bill's New Hampshire state campaign chair. "But we're outnumbered. Every time we knock on doors, the Rodham campaign got there first. It's as if they know what we're doing."

Dennis's ears perked up. "What do you mean?!"

Ellie sighed, frustrated. "It seems that the Rodham campaign is always one step ahead. They already spoke to our target voters. You and I all know that Governor Clinton's and Senator Rodham's demographic of appeal are very different. I mean, there's no way she could get the appeal of white male, non-college graduates."

Dennis and James exchanged knowing, nervous looks.

"But somehow, she did," added Ellie. "They focused on basic bread and butter stuff. And another thing, where did they get the resources to add more people to New Hampshire? The Rodham campaign is doing a blitz in here. I see so many flyers, mailers and even yard signs. But I read their reports. Their spending quite high but it's not out of the ordinary at this point in the presidential cycle."

"What else did you see, Ellie?" Dennis asked.

"So many people out of state campaigning for Hillary. I thought they were from Planned Parenthood or something but no. It was from a PAC."

"What PAC?"

"Women, Homemakers and Organizers Responsible for an Equitable Society,"

"W.H.O.R.E.S.," said Dennis.

"What?!" exclaimed James and Ellie in unison.

"That's their acronym. W.H.O.R.E.S.," Dennis explained, amazed that he caught that. "I assume that they are an ultra-feminist group?"

"Yeah. But there is also a group against Hillary," added Ellie.

"What is it?"

"Socialists and Libertarians United against Totalitarianism"

"S.L.U.T." Again, Dennis hated to be that person who had to say it.

"So wait a sec. That organization - S.L.U.T. - you mean to say they're against Senator Rodham?!" asked a bewildered James. "When in fact she is always front and center against dictatorships?!"

"Yeah. But that's not the odd part," said Ellie.

"What is?!" asked James and Dennis in unison.

"That organization is hitting Hillary for being pro-abortion. They say that she wants to force abortion on people's throats and that is what dictators do. But we all know nobody believes that except hard core right-wingers, who will never vote for her. If anything, it endeared her with women's rights' activists in the state."

Ellie was blissfully aware of how dire the situation was. She kept complaining about how far behind in the game they were, which only made Dennis and James feel worse.

Once they reached the school in Keene where Bill was supposed to have a town hall, Ellie immediately alighted the van while Dennis and James were left behind.

"Shit," Dennis cursed once Ellie was out of the earshot.

"Shit is right," James agreed. "We bombed. Big time."

"Indeed. But we have a more serious problem at hand," said Dennis. "Somebody must have leaked our data to the Rodham campaign."

"Yeah, no doubt about it. And no doubt that they are using it."

"The question is: do they know that it's proprietary data?"

"Knowing Joel, he won't let his happen," replied James, referring to Senator Rodham's pollster, Joel Benenson. "The man's honorable as fuck. He won't use that data if he knew it was stolen."

"So it means someone in the Rodham campaign is manipulating it in the background," affirmed Dennis. "I doubt that's Senator Rodham herself. The Russians are sure to insulate her from culpability. Or at least position her in a spot of plausible deniability."

"Fuck. We are screwed."

James and Dennis didn't have time to wallow as a young staffer called them from the entrance of the school. The event was about to start and they were needed.

As they went inside, they contemplated how to tell Bill about this.


"Jesus Christ," every amount of color was drained out of Bill's face as James and Dennis finished telling him their findings insider Bill's hotel room.

"We have to bomb her," James said. "If she wins New Hampshire, it's over."

Bill seemed to be distant and distracted.

"We have the story about her lesbian experience in Wellesley. We can try that," Dennis suggested.

"Oh that could work," James agreed.

"Or the time when she dated Robert Reich and she used his connections to get herself a job in Washington," Dennis added.

"Our material is flimsy on that but it could work too," said James.

Dennis and James were spouting multiple suggestions on how they could derail Hillary's candidacy on the last days of the New Hampshire primary campaign, but Bill remained quiet and withdrawn. He seemed to be trapped in a whole other world.

"Hey Bill, what do you think? asked Dennis, noticing his boss and friend's silence.

"What?" Bill suddenly snapped from his deep thought.

"We were talking about how to kaibosh Senator Rodham's campaign," James said.

"Ah yes. You told me that earlier," Bill said dismissively. "Do you have any ideas how to do that?"

"Well, we just suggested about how she dated Robert Reich and how she made connections in Washington though her relationship with him," replied James. "Or her lesbianism at Wellesley. She looks too cozy with that aide of hers, Huma."

"Do you have any leads that we can explore? Did she tell you anything of interest during your private meeting?" asked Dennis.

"No," said Bill, but he felt like he was saying a half-truth even if his denial was factually correct. Indeed, Hillary hadn't said anything that would damage her. She just kissed him and rubbed his cock when no one was looking.

"Damn. I hoped there was something we could have used," said Dennis.

"You know how guarded Senator Rodham always is," remarked James. "She'll never show anyone a hint of vulnerability, which now I think makes sense because she doesn't want her position as a Russian asset to be compromised."

Bill bit his lip, feeling guilty that he couldn't speak out. He was protecting Hillary's ass and his own. If James and Dennis found out what happened in the diner, it could be his undoing too, and his selfish instincts were taking over him. If Hillary was exposed, so would he, and that would be the of his presidential ambitions.

Dennis quickly noted Bill's body language. "Is there anything you want to say?"

Bill shook his head too quickly and forcefully. "No. I can't think of anything no matter how hard I tried."

"Alright," Dennis decided to give Bill a pass. "We'll think of something before New Hampshire."

"Great," Bill didn't sound excited at all. "Let me know what you think and keep me in the loop. I might be able to add something."

"Sure thing, Bill," said James.

"We'd better get going, James. Bill needs his rest," said Dennis. "Oh and Bill..."

"Yes?"

Dennis replied. "A word of caution: don't speak with Senator Rodham again. Or least not without your aides present. She might be trained to employ Russian tactics to compromise you. I know you already know this but I feel the need to reiterate. I trust you to protect yourself from her, Bill."

"Alright," Bill bit his lip. "I will."

James and Dennis left Bill in his hotel room. Bill plunged on his bed, cursing himself for being so weak in front of Hillary.


Hillary entered Il Terrerio, an Italian restaurant in the heart of Manchua, New Hampshire. After a long day of campaigning, her final event would be at a fundraiser sponsored by her friend, Senator Jeanne Shaheen. Members of the press and the public were not allowed to be in here. This high-dollar event would hopefully fill up her war chest which she could already use to take aim at Bush once she wins New Hampshire. Normally, a candidate from a neighboring state would easily win New Hampshire, butg given that Senator Tsongas from Massachusetts has already lost favor with most of the electorate, New Hampshire voters were favoring Hillary over the Clinton, a Southerner, and the coastal liberal elite, Brown.

The crowd, mostly women, stood up and applauded when Hillary entered the room. Senator Shaheen was delighted to introduce her friend to her constituents. Donors brought their kids to Hillary to have their picture taken with her. Some little girls were even dressed in matching pantsuits and pearls, looking up to her as their role model. Meeting little girls was Hillary's favorite part of the campaign and it never failed to make her heart swell.

Hillary proceeded to the presidential table where Shaheen was addressing the crown. Senator Shaheen made a very convincing case of why Hillary needed to be not just the Democratic nominee but the President of the United States. Given the women's movement in the 70's and the 80's, fuelled further by the public awakening of the plight of women during the Anita Hill hearings, Shaheen argued that the most potent thing that women could do to advance women's rights is to elect more women, including the President.

When Shaheen was done speaking, it was Hillary's turn. As always, she talked about how women would lead differently than men. When men would play a blinking game, women would come together for lunch and come up with a working solution to address their problems. Hillary praised Senator Shaheen and their other colleague, Carol-Moseley Brawn, who, despite being outnumbered by men, were able to pass legislation that would not had passed if their seats belonged to men. Hillary also praised the women in the House, who were proving to be as effective as their Senate counterparts. She lamented, however, the lack of women in the executive positions like in governorships.

The crowed erupted in applause when Hillary finished her speech. She was sharp, candid and frank. Everyone in the room was impressed. Not only that, she was able to connect with her audience and made them feel that she was fighting for them.

After her speech, it was time for a Q&A session, moderated by the leader of an immigrant rights group. The first question was from an economics professor in the University of New Hampshire. He asked her how she was going to close the investment tax loophole. He argued that her tax plan could still fail if Americans moved their assets offshore.

Hillary address the professor's issue with her anti-corruption and transparency bill. That bill, if passed, would obligate Americans to disclose their offshore accounts even if the banks are legally bound not to disclose (as in the case of Swiss accounts) because the IRS would be more empowered to go after tax evaders.

The next question was from an owner of a tannery, a woman from Rye. She was worried that the influx of cheap leather from China would decrease the demand for her products. How, the woman asked, would Hillary help someone like her?

Hillary responded that the US should expand its market to cope with the globalization of trade, and that was why she was in favor of the free trade agreement that was being negotiated by the Bush administration. Although the terms of the agreement were still vague, she said that the negotiation itself was a big step forward in the right direction.

A housewife asked the third question. She was a law school graduate but she decided not to pursue a career when she married her husband, who was her classmate and boyfriend in law school. The woman, who had three children, asked Hillary if she ever regretted not marrying.

The question hit home. She noticed that the glare of the audience intensify. And somewhere at the back of her head, she felt a pair of eyes belonging to a certain governor, who brought an unusual amount of effect on her, bore into her. But Hillary, being the professional she was, pretended that it didn't bother her.

"You know, I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies and had teas, but what I decided to do was to fulfill my profession, which I entered long before I came into politics," she responded.

The woman flinched. Hillary felt satisfied with her answer. Although she never intended to make the woman uncomfortable, she thought that she has driven her point across: that she is and has always been a career woman, and the lack of a family shouldn't be taken as a weakness.

But the seeming lack of response from the audience told her otherwise. It wasn't only the woman who was uncomfortable. Hillary looked around and she saw tht almost everybody was either frowning or shocked. Nick and Robby were looking grim too. What Hillary thought was a winning response was a gaffe, and potentially a damaging one.

Hillary tried to pivot by saying that she had always been fighting for feminism, which give the women the right to choose between launching a career and raising a family (or both) without prejudice from society. Somehow, her latter comment was able to mitigate some of the damage of the earlier comment, but Hillary knew that if that comment went out without the full context, she might get in trouble in New Hampshire.

The crowd clapped at her politely. Hillary didn't feel that they were particularly pleased with that response. Hillary prayed that nobody caught that on tape. But instead of dwelling on that, she called another audience member for a chance to ask her a question. She could not undo what she had done. She could only move forward.


Back at the Bush campaign HQ, Roger Ailes looked delighted when he heard the tape of Hillary saying the cookies and teas quote. He didn't bother finish listening to the rest of her quote. He thought it was enough. He just had to make sure nobody would hear the second half of Hillary's comment.

 

Chapter Text

Hillary frustratingly responded to each of the reporters questions as they huddled around her after a small campaign event in Derry, New Hampshire. Her comment about having a career instead of having teas, to her and her campaign's horror, was leaked to the press and the soundbite was played over and over on TV. Hillary's campaign had some serious damage control to do. And with the New Hampshire primary just days away, where the window for recovery was so short, the timing couldn't be worse.

"Senator, do you believe that feminism favors career women more than stay-at-home women?" asked David Gregory of NBC. Hillary couldn't have found this most ridiculous. An ill-informed white male was questioning her about feminism.

"As I have said before in my campaign events, if you are listening, David, then you know how I talk about feminism providing equal opportunity to career women and stay-at-home women. Feminism isn't female supremacy. No. Far from it. Feminism is giving women equal opportunity as their male counterparts and not being judged for their choices."

"But then, isn't your comment a disservice to the feminist movement because it bashes the women who chose to be homemakers?" asked another white male reporter. It took every ounce of willpower for Hillary not to roll her eyes in the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Of course not," Hillary pushed back. "I am simply defending myself from questions about how I lived my life because, as you can see, male candidates are not being asked about it. I never heard you guys ask Governor Clinton why he remained unmarried until now. As it turns out, we now know why he did remain unmarried."

Hillary refused to answer any more questions because she was getting late for her next event. She said "good bye" to the reporters even though they were still shouting questions at her. Her security escorted her back to her van and sped away from the chattering press.


Her last campaign stop, a school in another part of Derry, ended in a much higher note than her disastrous press junket earlier. She was eager to go to bed and to sleep this waking nightmare off. Robby and Joel told her that New Hampshire voters weren't happy with her comment, and she was bleeding support from stay-at-home mom, a base she heavily relied on. With a headache pounding, Hillary instructed her staff to come up with a last minute strategy to sway back some of the dissatisfied women.

When everybody had left to work, Hillary remained behind in a small classroom which doubled as her prep room. Huma had a call from her family so Hillary was left on her own to pack her things. That gave Paul a perfect opportunity to speak to Hillary in private.

Paul entered the room quietly. Hillary noticed, but didn't stop from her task. Paul locked the door, just in case.

"I know who leaked the audio," said Paul.

Hillary's eyes remained on the scattered make-up on the teacher's desk, waiting to be packed. "Who?" she finally said.

"Bush campaign," Paul replied. "They had a sting operation on us."

Upon hearing "Bush," a flood of relief drowned her. Aside from the obvious fallout from the leak, Hillary was worried that it might have been Bill who had done her in. She was thankful that he didn't. But she didn't let Paul see that.

"No surprises here," Hillary said.

"Aunt Margaret isn't happy. She thinks you might lose New Hampshire," said Paul.

"She's not wrong," Hillary remarked. "Bush dropped the leak when it was most opportune."

"Indeed," said Paul. "But if it happens, Aunt Margaret has a plan."

"What?" Hillary asked, her voice now a whisper.

"If you lose New Hampshire," whispered Paul, "I want you to call Clinton and say that you need him."

Hillary wasn't sure if she heard Paul right. "What?!"

"Aunt Margaret knows you and Clinton have something," Paul explained. "I saw you at the back of the restaurant."

Hillary's face was that of a complete shock. She had come into a complete standstill.

"I don't care about your motivations, Hillary, but you must do what I say."

Hillary slowly took this in."Okay," she said, "and what else?"

"You invite her to bed. Fuck him, suck him or just rub him," said Paul. "I do not care how you do it, but I need you to make him cum on your dress. But not in the ones that obviously belongs to you. Not your pantsuits. Maybe a hotel robe."

Hillary still couldn't believe her ears. "Why would I do that?!"

"Because he need to humiliate him as much as we can," said Paul. "We present the robe as if it belongs to someone else and the American people will think he's fucking another woman again."

"But if I do what you say, that wouldn't exactly be untrue," reasoned Hillary.

"Yes, but we need the evidence. We can spin this into something like another rape accusation. This time,  we have hard evidence," said Paul.

Hillary exactly wasn't sure if she liked the plan, but she couldn't refuse it either. To cover her thoughts about the subject, she simply remained silent as she unlocked the door and left the room, leaving Paul to himself.

That night, Hillary was supposed to go to bed early, because she had an early wake-up call. But the thought of having sex with Bill kept her tossing and turning all night.


The cookies comment, as feared by Hillary's campaign team, was enough to cause damage to her, it became apparent two hours after polls close in New Hampshire when Hillary was running dead even with Bill across the state. New Hampshire was supposed to be a cakewalk for her, but the comment, and the inherent sexism of the mainstream media, was threatening to doom her campaign.

More results trickled in, and around 11PM, the race was still close, with Governor Clinton on the lead. A margin of less than two thousand votes separate the two candidates. There was only one county which had outstanding votes. This was supposedly a Hillary county, but given the trend tonight, the Rodham campaign wasn't sure that the county could deliver the votes needed to overturn the race.

At her campaign HQ, Hillary sat in solitude in her private room, reading both of her victory and concession speeches. She was having a hard time concentrating because, aside from the uncertainty of results, she kept thinking about the possibility of executing Aunt Margaret's plan that night. She was afraid to do it, and at the same time, her heart pounded in anticipation. Hillary half-scolded herself for being too attached to Clinton.

The Soviet didn't train you to go tripping over the target, slut, Hillary thought to herself.

She sighed. She knew early on when she signed up for this that a normal life wasn't possible for her. If ever she was going to have a family, they would take second fiddle. She might have to sacrifice them if they ever got in the way of her mission. She couldn't bear doing that, especially to her would-be-children, so she decided to remain single.

And then came Bill. She would be lying to herself if she didn't find him attractive. There was a reason why numerous women fell for him. But there was something that told him that Bill wasn't any other man she met before. He was different. Totally different. In what ways? Hillary wasn't sure.

And it so happened that Bill was a liability, and he had to be disposed of. But Aunt Margaret had concocted a plan to turn that liability into an asset. She was filled with jitters. If she executed the plan, Hillary wasn't sure if she would come to him as the Soviet asset or just Hillary. Knowing herself, Hillary thought that she would likely go to him as a Soviet asset and leave him as Hillary, totally smitten like a teenage girl. She couldn't simply tell Aunt Margaret about how real her feelings were, or else she could face punishment, and dealing with punishment with the Soviets wasn't exactly something she was really forward to, to put it lightly.

Hillary sighed, troubled.

How am I going to do this?


Bill impatiently waited for Hillary's concession call inside his private prep room, where he was reading and re-reading his victory speech. After the networks had declared that the won New Hampshire, his HQ erupted in thunderous applause. Bottles of champagne were opened, and party poppers popped left and right. The Clinton campaign never had the night like this. This was by far the single best day of their campaign. 

As Bill let his staff celebrate, he remained inside the his prep room, nervous as hell for the things to come. First, the concession call. This would have been the first time he would talk to Hillary since they kissed in that diner a few weeks ago. Hisstomach was doing summersaults, and his heart was racing. He had a million possibilities going on in his mind, but he couldn't make heads or tails as to what was going to happen. 

Bill jumped when he heard the telephone ring. He threw his speech on the coffee table and scrambled to get a hold of the receiver. 

"Hello?"

"Governor, it's me, Senator Rodham," Hillary said on the other line. "Cngratulations on your victory. You and your staff did so well."

Bill gulped. Her voice was much more alluring on the phone. He could barely register any thought in his mind. He was supposed to control himself and be cautious because he knew what she was and who she worked for.

"Bill? Bill?"

Bill suddenly snapped when he heard his name multiple times. It took him a while to pull himself together.

"I'm sorry, I am quite distracted," he let out a weak laugh.

"Victory jitters?" she asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," he replied.

Bill willed himself to calm down. He reminded himself that Hillary was an agent of the Russian government; anything he did in front of her could be weaponized against him.

"You did great too," he finally managed to say after he filtered his words. He had a million things he wanted to say, most of which were either inappropriate or compromising. Even the simple "I miss you" would have been terribly problematic, even though it was the true longing of his heart.

"Thanks," she said. The silence between them was becoming incredibly awkward and charged. They could hear each other's breathing, the erotic sound they had both missed.

"Bill?" Hillary said, finally breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" he replied. He suddenly heard a soft sob on the other end, and his heart immediately clenched for her. "What is it?"

Bill heard a few more soft sobs before he heard her reply, "I am not okay. I need you Bill."

His heart fell and was shattered into a million pieces. He had never heard Hillary sound so weak, so vulnerable as he just had, and it killed him to hear her like that. He licked his lips, catching himself before he could say anything that was compromising.

He heard some more soft sobs and a hiccup before she said, "I know it sounds a lot but I wish you'd be with me tonight, Bill. I know I should be a gracious loser but I can't cope. It hurts so much. And I thought you...you'd make it better."

Bill remained silent, despite the internal turmoil that Hillary just stirred. Hillary must have known that he was never going to answer because she quietly bid him goodbye.

Bill felt a little relieved that the phone call was over. He thought he didn't make much of a fool of himself, though it could have been a lot better. But more importantly, he didn't let himself be compromised by Hillary's clear attempts to catch him. Bill pressed his hands on his face, caught in a dilemma. He thought that he could somehow hide the fact that he had kissed Hillary a few weeks ago in the diner, but obviously not. It was clear that Hillary was trying to use that to her advantage and knowing that she was an agent of the Russian government, his involvement with her was ten times worse.

Bill sighed. He would have to come clean. James and Dennis needed to know.


"You did what?!"

As expected, Dennis and James weren't happy when Bill confessed to them what he did with Hillary in their private meeting. The two aides had been right all along - that the private meeting was a bad idea - but they both decided against rubbing it in Bill's face. Doing so wouldn't mitigate the disaster that they were facing.

"Wait a second," Dennis tried to clarify. "How the hell did this happen?!"

Bill agonizingly recounter their first personal encounter - at the bar in their hotel when he drunk himself stupid and Hillary pounced at the opportunity to compomise him. Expressions of shock etched deeper and deeper in Dennis and James' faces as Bill divulged more details about him and Hillary. By the end of his story, Dennis was furious.

"I can't believe you'd keep this from us, Bill," Dennis grunted in frustration, pounding his fist on the wall. "You're not a noob, Bill. You know how protocol works.

Bill sat on the couch, feeling defeated. "I know."

"One bat of her eyelash and she has you wound up in her finger. Psych Manipulation 101, Bill. Had it ever occurred to you that she was there to get to your pants?!"

"Before I found out she was a Russian agent, no," Bull confessed, ashamed of himself.

"You're thinking with your head that wasn't attached to your shoulders, Bill," Dennis admonished. "This is why you aren't winning, Bill. You are easily distracted by the nearest pair of wide open legs.

A frown formed in Bill's face. He felt the sting of Dennis's words.

"That's enough, Dennis," James intervened, sensing the dissatisfaction of his boss.

"And you know what else?!" Dennis added, "it took you weeks before you told us anything. You were clearly protecting that lying bitch-"

"Dennis-"

"-I am now questioning where your loyalties lie, Bill. We came to you because we thought we could rely on you. We tipped the scale in your favor even though the CIA can't be political, then you jeopardize our operations by sneaking to get into the enemy's pants?! Jesus, Bill. I thought you're better than that."

Dennis was left very much frustrated and angered by Bill's actions that he stormed out of the room without another word. James called him back but ignored him. Bill, on the other hand, was very much red in the face. Clearly, he took Dennis's harsh words to heart.

"Bill, I know you are frustrated. This should have been a happy night, but obviously, it didn't happen," James consoled, even though he felt exactly the same way as Dennis, "but you need to focus on your victory speech. Claim whtat is yours Bill."

"After a scolding like that, it's hard to do just that," Bill grabbed the speech from the coffee table, pissed.

"I know, but we must get through this. Quietly. We have to contain what the Rodham campaign knows. She must have told her Russian handlers everything she knows about you, so let's not give the American press a reason to speculate more about your sexual encounters. They are already cashing in for those" James warned.

"I will," Bill assured him. His eyes pored over the speech on the table, but James could see the gears in Bill's head turning. He was planning something.

"Bill, you musn't take Rodham's bait," James warned. "You know she's planning something."

"I won't," Bill replied.

"But you still plan on going to her tonight," James said.

Bill neither confirmed nor denied what James had accused him of. He simply stood up and picked up his speech.

"Bill, please, don't come to her tonight...our efforts will be wasted if you did..."

Bill remained silent. James must have forgotten that he was ex-CIA. He had a plan, and by the end of tonight, he would say "checkmate".

Chapter Text

Hillary brushed her hair for the hundredth time, making sure it was shiny and sleek. She looked herself in the bathroom mirror. Her silk robe hugged her body so well. She pulled the collar a little so that her cleavage was visible. She debated whether to apply her favorite perfume but in the end, she decided against think; it would have been too obvious that she was trying hard to get his attention. She wanted this night to be as real as possible.

She couldn't help but laugh. She knew that this was all a sham to trap her opponent. Nothing in this was real. And yet, she was aspiring for authenticity. Sure, it was so that Bill wouldn't suspect, but she was doing this for herself too. This was the closest thing she would get to a one night stand in years, and she'd be damned if she wouldn't let herself enjoy this.

After all, it was clear that Bill was fawning over her.

It feels good to be fawned over by a man once in a while, doesn't it?

Hillary gave one final glance in the mirror, tucking a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. She licked her lips and left the bathroom. Once she stepped out, her heart began to pound and her stomach twisted. But her anticipation suddenly turned into shock when she saw Bill standing in front of her bed.

"Jesus Christ!" she blurted out, clutching her chest. "How did you get in?!"

"My college buddy gave me a skeleton key," he explained.
Hillary wanted to know why he had a buddy with a skeleton key, but she decided against it, knowing that she had more pressing things to attend to. Instead, she approached him with a desire.

"You had a good night, I presume?" she managed to smile as she teased him.

"It was a good night," he grinned, but he was trying not to gloat too much in front of her, knowing that her loss still stung. "You okay?"

Hillary sighed. "It still hurts. It comes with the territory, you know? But goodness, the country isn't ready for a female president, is it?"

"I wish I could say that it is, but I would be lying if I said that," Bill replied.

"It's not your fault, Bill," she said, gazing at him, her eyes full of longing. "If anything, you're one of the highlights of this campaign. Competing against you and knowing you more have been a delight."

Bill's rosacea gave his thoughts away. "I am glad that you see me in a good light. For what it's worth, I love competing against you too. And for the record, I find you warm and caring, unlike how the media paints you to be."

Hillary felt like she could burst from Bill's admiration of her, and it gave her the confidence that she needed. She stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. She felt secure in his presence, and more importantly, she felt cherished.

Bill, knowing what Hillary was sent to do, would and could never admit that she felt so good around him. But he allowed himself to bow his head and to plant the softest kiss of her head. It was so soft and faint that she mistook it as a simple bow of the head and nothing else.

Hillary, as she let herself get lost in his touch, calculated her next move. Despite the real feelings she felt for him, she had a mission to do, as much as she hated to do it.

She pulled away from him and she began unbuttoning his shirt, but his hand was quicker and more determined. It overcame her probing fingers that are determined to make him feel good. At the end, he overpowered her. Her grabbed her hand, making her hear stop for a full second, and brought it to his face and cradled her face in it. The gesture wasn't as erotic as the unbuttoning of his shirt, but it made her heart melt. He was looking at her with his own two eyes, unblinking and unwavering, as if she was the only other being in the universe.

She gazed back at him, and she felt something underneath her feet shift. Her stomach was doing somersaults, and she felt like sh could float. She was supposed to seduce him, to make him vulnerable, yet the opposite was happening.

How did it come to this?

"Take me to bed," she said before she could regret it.

Bill was more than willing to oblige. He took her in his arms and carried her to the bed like a bride on her wedding night. He swept her off her feet, in more ways than one. She thought he was just going to lead her to the bed, not carry her! Her heart couldn't help but soar. Bill...he felt more than desire for her, didn't he?

He gently deposited her into he bed, like she was porcelain. Just as Hillary thought that he was going to undress her, he pulled the covers of her bed into her and tucked her in. He kissed her forehead with utmost devotion before whispering "Good night", leaving her confused.

"Wait," she said, "aren't you going to...well...sleep with me?"

Bill chuckled bitterly. "Hilly, you are tired and battered after a night. You need to get up early and talk to every voter if you want to capture the nomination."

Hillary's heart jumped yet again when he called her "Hilly." Nobody had called her that before. But his reluctance to have sex with her stung badly.

"I thought you wanted me?" Her sentence came out childish, but it was what she felt at that moment.

"I do. You have no idea what you mean to me, but there is no way I'd let you risk what you worked so hard for. We're playing with fire, Honey. If any of this gets out, you will be pummeled more than I do."

Her heart clenched at his concern for her, but she was stubborn; she has orders to follow, after all. "I don't care. You want this as badly as I do."

"I am not going to deny that," he replied, "but I don't want you to live in regret that the presidency could have been yours if you didn't fuck the serial womanizer-cum who is also your rival for the nomination."

Hillary wasn't having it. She bolted out of bed and said, "forget that. I don't care. The presidency can wait. But you...."

Bill pulled every ounce of his willpower to stop himself from launching into her arms and kissing her and doing exactly what she wants. He knew that while she was sincere in her desire for him, she was also doing this on someone else's orders. He could reveal what he knew to her, but he chose to keep his cards close to his chest.

He kissed her again on the forehead. "I'm really sorry. I would have given everything for us to be in completely different position."

Hillary was on the verge of tears. She shouldn't be acting like this. She was completely compromising herself, letting him up the upper hand. Spying 101. Don't ever compromise yourself to your targets. But there she was, at his mercy.

"I need you, please," Bill heard a desperate plea from her. Something in him broke, and his will suddenly crumbled.

But he didn't do what she thought he would do. He did join her on the bed, but he had no intention of fucking her. He removed his shirt and unbuckled his belt. However, he did not remove his pants. He lay beside her and pulled the covers into himself, scooting as close as possible to her. He gently caressed her face with the back of his finger, leaving a chill on her spine.

"I'm here," he said quietly, "you need me, so I am here."

Hillary simply stared at him, stunned. He did not give her what she wanted, but what she never knew she needed. She nodded quietly, accepting what he had to offer. She turned her back against him, and on cue, he spooned her, his arms wrapped around her and his leg hooked against hers. Hillary never felt so loved and protected. What Bill gave her that night was much more than a thousand orgasms had to offer.

Her heart full, Hillary smiled as she closed her eyes to sleep, pulling Bill closer to her. With only Bill in her heart and in her mind, she slept soundly for the first time in years.

Chapter Text

Hillary woke up surrounded by a warm body behind her and a soft snore tickling her neck. A warm feeling filled her belly as she snuggled closer to the man who had slept with her. With the way she had been feeling, it was hard to believe that she lost a major primary loss last night. She had never slept better in months, thanks to her rival who had been more than gracious and supportive to her. After all, no presidential candidate in history had slept with their rival to soothe said rival's loss.

Beyond the softness and warmth of Bill's embrace was the hardness that pressed against her bottom. Affection and arousal fought to take over her body. Any doubt on her mind whether he wanted her was gone, and it was filling her with such happiness. And at the same time, she wanted to fulfil what she had been wanting to do with him for so long, something that she failed to do last night.

She wiggled her hips and she felt him shift. She could take this opportunity to finally feel him, and maybe get that semen sample. But as much as she wanted to fuck his brains out, there was still a nagging feeling inside her. She wanted him to come to her willingly, in his full consciousness. He had the opportunity to do so last night, but chose not to. Even though she knew that he wanted her so badly, based on his body reaction, he still found it in him to restrain himself. There was something that was holding him back. She knew it wasn't the election, because otherwise he would not dare step into her bedroom. So, what was it?

Before Hillary could do anything, she heard her door creak open. Paul's head popped in between the gap to check on her. He gave a satisfied look when he saw that Hillary and Bill were laying together. Paul let out a smirk and an approving nod before he left them both alone.
Hillary's wonder about Bill's hesitation was suddenly forgotten and her mind shifted to another problem: where should she get a semen sample if Bill didn't sleep with her? Even though she wanted him badly, she had no heart to force him to do something that he wasn't committed to 100%.

"Hey," Hillary heard Bill say in his sleepy voice. "Mornin'"
Hillary pushed every other thought aside, choosing to focus on him. His raspy morning voice made her heart jump. She turned to him and let him pull her closer. He didn't bother hiding the fact that he was waking up with an erection. In fact, he seemed to be proud of it.

"I know what you're thinking," he whispered on her ear, "I would normally be apologetic, but considering what you wanted to do last night..."

"Apology accepted," she smiled before locking her lips with his in a deep, wanting kiss. She could wake up like this every day.

"I wish every morning is like this," he said, as if reading her mind.

"I know," she replied.

"Imagine we'd wake up in the White House residence like with aides knocking on our doors," he mused.

Hillary raised a brow. "And are you insinuate as to who will the main occupant be?"

"Sort of. All I am saying is that the occupant is not President Bush," he quipped.

"Good answer," she replied. "I thought for a second there you're suggesting that I lost the primary."

"Not yet," he said. "We're still a long way to go."

"We are," she agreed, "And despite what did and did not happen last night, I won't pull any punches just because you're running against me."

"I know that was a jab at me," he chuckled, "I know what you want and you know every well by now that I want it too, but we can't just throw away what we've work so hard for."

"I understand," she conceded, amazed by his wisdom. "You're right."

"But that doesn't mean I won't get jealous if I see you dangerously close with another man," he kissed her forehead.

"I might just do exactly that," she giggled.

"Now Hillary..." his voice was dangerously low.

"I am just teasing," she said. "But all means, be jealous if I get too close to another man. I like it."

"Oh that man better watch himself," he replied. "I might send my goons to beat him to a pulp, or at least that's what the right wing media would fantasize that I do."

Hillary giggled before she captured his lips in a long, wet kiss.

"Hmmmmm, I would love to have mornings like this. Waking up and cuddling with you," she said.

"I want that too," he replied. "But not before the primary ends. We are risking too much."

Hillary felt the slight twinge in her chest, but she perfectly understood what he meant.

After minutes of simply staring and cuddling, the two of  them finally decided that it was time to get up and move. Despite the temptation, they took their showers separately. During the entire time that Bill was inside, Hillary fought every urge to open the bathroom door and join him. She regretted going to the bathroom first because she had desperately wanted to feel the shower with remnants of his presence, to imagine herself with him while inhaling his unique scent, to touch her body the way she knew Bill would.

The two spent their last moments dressing up together. Hillary loved it when she fixed his tie. It felt so normal and so...domestic.

She let Bill leave her hotel room when nobody was looking. She saw him off and felt relief wash over her when he was gone out of sight.

Once Bill was gone, Hillary's brain switched back into spy mode. Paul saw that she and Bill had slept together, so she needed to convince him that they indeed had slept together. She needed to find a semen - anyone's semen - and stain her robe with it to make it look like it was Bill's. But her main problem was she didn't know where she could extract such a substance.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She opened the door and saw a handsome bellboy offer housekeeping services. He was young and he looked vibrant.

A plan suddenly hatched in Hillary's mind. She let the bellboy in and did what she had to do.


That night, in his hotel room, Bill told Dennis, James and George everything that had happened yesterday. The three advisors dropped their jaws to the floor, in disbelief about how Bill managed to gain the upper hand over Hillary Rodham.

"Damn, Bill. I will never doubt your spy skills ever again," remarked Dennis, astonished.

James was less than impressed, though he was still stunned. "Are you sure you didn't leave anything that Hillary could use to frame you? Like...DNA or something?"

"I was a good boy, James. I held out. Though to be honest, with a woman like her, it's pretty though. She knows which buttons to push. She can be a vixen if she wants to."

"Seems that Senator Rodham is more dangerous than we anticipated," said George, "but I am glad you made an arrangement with her not to make contact until the primary ends."

"Are we sure she's going to honor her word?" asked James skeptically.

"It's too much of a risk if she didn't," Bill assured. "She will hold her end of the bargain."

"Bill's on the money," said Dennis. "I too believe that the Senator will oblige. She could lose everything if she didn't."

"Alright," James backed down. "So, what now?"

"We beat Senator Rodham," said Bill. "It's the only way we can vanquish this threat."

"Not exactly," George disagreed. "There's still the matter of your VP nominee."

James, Dennis and Bill looked at George with confused looks.

"If you win," George explained, "people will likely root for Hillary to be the VP nominee. And being a woman, she makes an attractive choice to bring in woman voters to the Democratic fold. Not only that, her VP candidacy is historic. Second female VP nominee and possibly the first female vice president of the United States. Don't tell me that Clinton-Rodham isn't the dream Democratic ticket."

The three men looked each other with gloom and doom. George was right. Even if Hillary lost, there would be insurmountable pressure for Bill to choose her as his running mate.

Bill would be lying if he said that he didn't like Hillary to be his VP. In fact, he would love it if she was the VP nominee. It meant countless hours campaigning together, always watching her make speeches, frequently getting that look  from her that said "I support you 100%", and if they win, she would always by his side and she could always be with him in the Oval without questions or suspicions.

However, he signed up for a mission and his duty to his country comes first. If they were to succeed, it meant that they had to push Hillary was far away from the Vice Presidency as they could.

"Okay. I have a plan," Bill said.

"What is it?"

"Let me continue this...whatever this is...with the Senator," Bill proposed. "Since we already know her weak point, we can use it to our advantage."

"This isn't just an excuse to get into her pants eh, Bill?" Dennis asked with suspicion.

Bill tried his best to present his poker face. He was caught red-handed. Well, sort of. Of course wanted to remove Senator Rodham as a threat, but he wouldn't resist getting into her pants either.

"No, it's not," he replied. "The earlier we get her out of the race and from the VP shortlist, the better."

"But be careful, Bill," George warned. "If you break her heart in the process, she might execute a revenge operation against you when you are already president. You better break it to her gently."

With the way she looked at him earlier, Bill would jumped in front of this proverbial moving freight train just to protect her. But he had to make a choice. He had to choose between her or his country, and he need not think about the choice that he had to make.

He just hoped that she knew that he loved her no matter what.

Chapter Text

The race between Governor Clinton and Senator Rodham had intensified since the New Hampshire primary. Watching the two candidates jockey for the nomination was more exciting than any Olympics finals in recent memory. Bill Clinton, being a Southerner, won the South Carolina handily, while Hillary Rodham won more diverse state of Nevada. By Super Tuesday, the two candidates were almost evenly split in the share of delegates, with Governor Clinton having a slim lead. But with the slimmest margin of delegates separating two candidates, nobody knows who will win the nomination.

As premature it is at this point, pundits began speculating about the next VP nominee. Every one of the talking heads on TV reported that the Democratic leadership and rank-and-file wanted the second placer of the primary to be picked as VP, as a sign of unity and to excite the base to turn out in November.

All these talk prompted several superdelegates who had pledged themselves to Hillary to convince her to back out early with the promise that they would speak to Governor Clinton to put her name on the top of the VP shortlist. Hillary simply smiled and nodded as she listened to their proposal, but deep inside, she felt quite offended. Why did everyone suddenly come to a conclusion that she should back out of the race and not Bill? She was as capable and electable as he was. The only difference was that he has a cock, and she has not.

One Thursday immediately before the New York primary, Hillary stepped into her campaign van, exhausted from speaking at a rally, but what drained her more were the calls for her to bow out of the race.

"Who decided that it should be who would back out?!" Hillary lashed out to her aides. "I didn't hear any Clinton surrogate who came to us to make sure he's on top of my VP shortlist."

"You can bet Tip O'Neill has a hand in this," said Nick. Tip O'Neill was the Speaker of the House.

"For sure," Huma agreed. "And the DNC too."

"What a bunch of sexist assholes," said Robby.

Meanwhile, as the rest of Hillary's aides were ranting about the sexist behavior against their boss, Paul was sitting at the back of the van. He shot a glance at Hillary, and she knew immediately that Paul had something to say to her in private. Hillary gave that characteristic blink of the eye to Paul, letting him know that she got his message and she would make room for him soon.

When the van stopped in front of the community center in Westchester, their final event of the day, Hillary stepped down from the van and greeted an excited queue of supporters. Being a resident of Westchester, Hillary received a much warmer welcome from the crowd than their other stops, which was saying something because Hillary was wildly popular in New York. When Hillary was already inside the center, she had arranged for everyone to leave her alone with Paul in her prep room.

"Okay," Hillary sat on the makeshift couch. "You have five minutes."

"Aunt knows something, and she wants us to prepare," Paul warned.

Hillary's eyes grew wide. "What is it?"

"Someone from the Washington Post got hold of a former CIA contractor who says that you are actively working with the Kremlin. He says that he has seen you in the top secret files, and he feels that it's his duty to come forward."

Hillary's face was drained of color, and her blood turned cold.

"Shit," was all she could muster.

"Shit is right," said Paul.

"What will Aunt do with this?" she asked urgently.

"She assures us that she will do something. I don't know what that is, but we can be assured that she'll fix this."

Hillary fidgeted her fingers, sighing deeply. "She better does. I don't want our years of planning go to waste."

Paul patted her shoulder assuringly. "She's never failed us before. Have faith."

Hillary closed her eyes, deep in thought. She pushed her worries aside and focused on the speech that she was about the deliver. But deep inside, she couldn't shake off the anxiety that stemmed from the news that she had just received.

She knew the worst was yet to come.

---

In the final days leading up to the New York primary, Bill and his campaign were in a mad dash criscrossing the state. They knew from their internal polling that Hillary was going to win the state, but their goal was to minimize the margin of victory as much as possible. It would take a miracle for them to defeat her.

The closer they were to the primary, the weirder things got. At one of his rallies, several men carrying signs saying "The White House belongs to a man" and "There's a reason it's called HIStory." Apparently, they were men's rights activitst and Bill was stunned that such group of people existed. Bill didn't want their support so he had asked his campaign staff to throw them out. The men caused quite a commotion in his rally. They were screaming on the top of their lungs, saying that men and women are not equal. Bill was disgusted at their behavior and he felt no regrets about kicking them out of his rally.

It was a weird coincidence that Hillary would hold her rally immediate after Bill's. Bill wasn't surprised when he saw Hillary's staffers slowly flock into the venue to clean up and prepare for Hillary's arrival. Bill was supposed to have a short stop at a friend's house before he was to speak in Long Island, but he called his scheduler to cancel the visit to his friend.

Bill chose to remain at the venue and talked to the small group of college students who had remained to show their support to him. Bill invited them over to his prep room and ordered some pizza and soda for them all. He enjoyed talking to voters, especially the youth because they reminded him of his idealism and passion that he had when he was still an anti-war activist. But he had an ulterior motive in mind.

Bill never lost interest in the conversation with the students, but his ears were snooping for news about Hillary's arrival. He was sure that some staffer would inform him about it. And he was proven right when one of his staffers knocked on his door to announce Hillary's arrival. But what was odd was that Hillary had called for him.

He excused himself from the students and bid them goodbye. His staffer led him towards Hillary's prep room, where he was greeted by Huma Abedin. Huma gave him a suspicious look but nevertheless opened the door for him.

Inside, Bill found Hillary in good spirits, drinking a can of Coca-cola. When she saw him, she immediately put the can on the nearest table and gave him a social kiss on the cheek. He was left a little disappointed. He would have wanted a more intimate gesture from her, like a tight hug or /a kiss on the lips, but he understood why she had done so.

"Hi Bill," she said, beaming. "It's been a while."

"It is, it is," he replied. "How are you? Ready to give that victory speech on Tuesday, eh?"

"Well, I have it all written by my staff, and I have some input. You know how it works. But I do have a concession speech prepared also," she said, trying to be modest.

"Oh come on, I am sure you won't be delivering that speech."

"You can never predict the future Bill," she corrected him. "Who would have thought when we entered the race that we'd end up running against each other and I would..."

Before Hillary could say the next word, she stopped herself and her cheeks reddened. Bill was pretty sure what she was about to say so he didn't press her on, but it left his heart thumping. Hillary took it that Bill didn't notice anything so she went on.

"Why are you here anyway?" Hillary tried to change the topic. "Don't you have another event?"

"I was supposed to see a friend before I go to my next event but it was postponed."

"Why? Your friend cancelled?"

"No, I wanted to see you."

Hillary jerked her head to his direction before acting like nothing happened. Her heart almost stopped when he said that. Oh fuck. She was so weak for him. She was acting like a hormonal teenager when she was already in her 40's and was a trained spy.

Bill moved closer to her, grasping her hands and bringing them close to her chest, his eyes imploring.

"I missed you, Hilly," he confessed.

Her eyes were wide in awe. She licked her lips, her mind savoring those soft, sweet lips of his.

"I missed you too," she whispered.

Slowly, they closed their eyes and together, they pulled themselves closer until there was no more gap between then, and very very lightly, their lips touched. Just like that, as if they were born for this. They kissed as if they were not running against each other and their actions would have no consequences. Slow and languid, and then when they finally started to feel the heat, they became more aggressive. Their tongues were battling and their mouths were sucking each other. They went on for minutes until they felt the need to breathe.

When they pulled away, Bill noticed that Hillary looked a little exhausted, and he felt a little guilty for driving her too hard.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Never better," she smiled sheepishly as she fixed her blazer. Bill straightened his suit and then helped his girl do the same. He loved taking care of her.

Just as they finished, they could hear a swarm of people approach Hillary's prep room. They both took it as their cue to leave.

"I'll see you around, Hilly," Bill meant to say "Hillary" but "Hilly" rolls naturally off his tongue. "I'll call you on Tuesday."

"Looking forward to it," she replied. Before she knew it, she said, " I'll miss you."

Her words brought life to Bill's veins, the tonic he never knew he needed. He went to her and kissed her gently in the forehead. "I'll miss you too," he said back.

Hillary quietly stayed as Bill left the door with a comforting smile, making her heart soar. But immediately after Bill left, Hillary's mouth tasted sour, and she ran to the toilet to throw up.

Chapter Text

The country was not ready for a female president, and the voters had delivered that message loud and clear when Hillary was trounced soundly in the California primary, the last contest of the primary season. Bill had won 60% of the vote, and thus, the nomination. Hillary couldn't say that she was surprised, but she was crushed nevertheless. Now, there was nothing that she could do but to congratulate her opponent and move on.

Hillary wasn't exactly looking forward to making that concession call, but hearing Bill's voice was a small salve for her. She heard his voice every single day of his campaign, but she had not heard him speak to her as Bill, the lovesick Southerner who held her heart. He was always in campaign mode, and for her, candidate Bill was different from her Bill.

When it was finally time for Hillary to talk to Bill, she was led by Huma to a small room in the hotel where her supporters had gathered. Hillary looked at the phone apprehensively, her heart beating the hell out of her chest.


Bill emerged from the room almost floating. He had just finished the phone call with Hillary where she graciously conceded the race to him, among others. But their phone call went beyond the usual congratulations. Hillary, despite her strong demeanor, admitted that she missed him, and Bill, ever the softie, promised that he would schedule a date with her, far from the prying eyes of the media and the public. That lifted Hillary's spirits, and Bill was practically giving himself a high-five at the end of the call.

As agreed upon by the two camps, Hillary would give her speech first, and then Bill. The Rodham campaign has already notified Bill's staff that she would give her concession speech at 10:45pm. Bill nodded when he learned of that information and proceeded to prep room so that he could await her speech in peace.

As promised, Hillary came out to her crowd of adoring supporters at the specified time. Bill was practically bouncing when he saw her, but he couldn't help but feel worried. She looked a little pale. He wanted to rush over to her side to take her temperature or feel her forehead, but he couldn't do such thing, much to his frustrations, so he had to be content with just watching her and applauding at her every pause.

When Hillary finished her speech, Bill noticed that he was a little wobbly. Nobody in the room seemed to have noticed it because everyone of them was busy breaking down every word Hillary uttered in that concession speech. Bill, on the other hand, was worried about her, and he made a mental note to arrange a call to Hillary to check on her on the pretext of scheduling campaign events with him.

Bill turned around to get back to editing his victory speech. He caught Dennis's suspicious eye and quickly looked away. Bill knew what Dennis was thinking but ignored it, focusing instead on his speech.

Hillary's not a threat anymore, Bill told himself. I won the nomination and there's no way I'd make her my VP. America is safe from the Russians now.

He wished he could believe himself.


Former CIA contractor Dan Soriano didn't go by his birth name in the past few weeks. To his new neighbors, he was called Carlos Flores. His new IDs reflected his new identity. Dan had to shed his identity behind all because he knew too much about what Russia was doing. A little too much that Russia was willing to kill for it.

Dan knew what he was up against when he approached a Washington Post to divulge everything he new. He felt that it was his patriotic duty to let the public know what was going on in their elections. He was waiting for the leadership of the CIA to do something about it, but when they didn't, he was frustrated by their inaction and chose to act himself. He was willing to be assassinated by Russia, just so he could divulge the truth.

It was why it was a big surprise for him when one day, two CIA agents visited him to inform him that he was to be given protection by the US government. He was informed by the agent that a double agent of the US who was currently working for Russia had informed them that Russia was planning to kill him immediately. And so, Dan immediately accepted the US government's protection.

Dan felt that he was safe. But even then, he could never be too sure.

That was why every day, he brought latex gloves and disposable masks whenever he would leave the house. But what he didn't know was that his precautions would fail him.

One hot day in June, when he arrived home, Dan wore his usual gloves and mask. But the moment he touched the doorknob, he felt dizzy and his body spasmed uncontrollably. He blurted out an incoherent string of English and Mexican words in a desperate plea for help. But no one heard him. He kept twisting and writing on the carpet until he gagged his last breath of air.

Five minutes later, five calls from reporter Annie Castlereigh were left in his voicemail, never to be answered.


The Washington Post simultaneously detonated two bombshells on its frontpage: the scoop about Russia's efforts to meddle with the election and the murder of their informant. This was so unprecedented that the cable news networks devoted their segments on the twin pieces rather than Bill's fresh victory in the Democratic primary.

The intense coverage of the Russian meddling frustrated Bill's campaign, who was looking to capitalize Bill's win ahead of the Democratic convention. Now the presumptive nominee, he had already entered the formal stage of selecting his running mate.

Despite the lack of media reporting to it, the rank-and-file Democrats and Democrats in the leadership alike overwhelmingly support Hillary for the VP spot. For them, she was the only choice. The pressure from the Democratic base put Bill and his campaign on the spot. Their once decision of never considering Hillary for the gig was overturned. Now, she was going to be vetted for the VP nomination.

Bill had invited Hillary to his home in California Drive in Fayetteville. She flew in private so that nobody could spot her for this secret meeting. As Bill's campaign told her, she would be interviewed the entire day. As a sign of goodwill from the Clinton campaign, she was allowed to bring her parents and brothers. Hillary saw the gesture not only as a sign of goodwill, but also a personal choice from Bill.

Hillary arrived at Bill's home, accompanied by her security detail. Dennis was waiting for Hillary at the front door. He was wearing a big smile when he greeted her.

"Good morning, Senator."

"Good morning, Mr. O'Keefe," Hillary and Dennis shook hands. She felt the slightest hint of hostility in that handshake from Dennis, and Hillary knew well why.

Bill welcomed Hillary inside with great mirth. He was gracious as he had been before, despite the cautious looks that Hillary was getting from Bill's staff. The people in the room greeted her, albeit less warmly than Bill. He motioned them to leave them alone, and they immediately obliged.

Bill led Hillary to the kitchen where a pot of coffee and some cookies were waiting for them. Bill pulled a chair for her to sit on, and Hillary felt a little guilty that he was making sure that she was comfortable.

"Thanks for coming here," he said.

"It's nice to see your home. It's cozy," she said. "Must be a wonderful place to live in."

Bill bit his lip as he smiled. He found it funny that Hillary found his home wonderful to live in, because if she was not a senator, she would have probably lived in there as well.

"I am glad. And I can't wait to meet your family," Bill said. He was particularly excited for the dinner with Hillary's family. He wanted to know what they are like.

"Thanks for inviting them. That is so gracious of you," she smiled.

Bill could just burst in excitement with her reception, but he remembered that he had a more important job to do, albeit being a façade. He shifted into a serious mode and began to interrogate Hillary. The more he heard her speak, the more convinced he was that she would have been the perfect partner (romantic and otherwise) for him, but he knew that Hillary was a big liability and she should never be anywhere near the presidency. But in an alternate universe, Bill would have cancelled the rest of the VP candidate interviews and ask her straight away.

The rest of the interview turned from serious to light and jovial. By the time the formal interview ended, the two were laughing and exchanging quips.

"And you know, my buddy Joe never slept in my dorm room again," Bill finished with a chuckle.

"I bet he still lives through the trauma up to this day," Hillary giggled.

"He tells me he does!" Bill guffawed.

"Oh Bill, you're the worst!" Hillary said, followed by her loud, hearty laugh that made Bill almost jump in joy.

"I'm not that bad! You know, I introduced Joe to his wife Martha and now he couldn't be more grateful!"

"What do you know? A broken clock is right twice a day!"

Hillary and Bill continued their laughing and sharing stories which had nothing to do with politics, until all of a sudden, Hillary fell her head spin. Her stomach was twisted in knots and she could feel a hot liquid rising up from her belly. Controlling her reflexes, Hillary excused herself from the table and ran straight to the bathroom. A very concerned Bill followed her but she locked the door before he could enter. He could only hear the sounds of her heaving and vomiting from the other side of the door.

"Hillary, are you alright?"

"Yes," she said. "The sickness just won't go away."

"Let me get you to the doctor," Bill offered.

"No," she said, albeit a little more forcefully. "I can handle myself."

"No, Hillary. You should see the doctor right away."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "It's just happened this afternoon. I always have this in the morning."

It took Bill three seconds to realize what Hillary had said, and when he did, his blood turned cold. He couldn't believe what he just heard, but the silence on the other end of the door seemed to confirm what he knew. Not a single sound came out after Hillary accidentally revealed her symptoms.

Recovering from the shock of his lifetime, Bill grabbed the bathroom key from the kitchen and unlocked the door. There, he found Hillary quietly sobbing, her head resting on the toiler seat. He knelt down beside her and tipped her head so that she was resting on his chest as her tears wet his shirt. He let her cry on him. As he touched her hair, he realized that her job as a Russian spy probably destroyed any prospect of her having her own family without risking the lives of her loved ones. His heart went out for him. He simply sat in his bathroom, holding the loneliest person in the world in his arms.

A thousand miles away from Little Rock, in the busy offices of the Washington Post, investigative reporter Anne Castlereigh had the shock of her life when she perused the documents sent to her by her deceased informant, Dan Soriano.

Chapter Text

Ever since the Bill clinched the nomination, the speculation of his running mate only crescendoed in the weeks leading to the convention. And there was no one the media was excited more about than Hillary. The prospect of the youngest president since JFK and the first female vice president seemed to be a movie script brought to life. The tandem of Bill Clinton and Hillary Rodham, according to the TV pundits, would be a breath of fresh air against the embattled and old George H.W. Bush and Washington veteran Jack Kemp.

While the mainstream media were fantasizing the prospect of a Clinton-Rodham White House, the conservative media was fixated on the Washington Post report on the Russian interference on the presidential election and the murder of ex-CIA contractor Dan Soriano. Collectively, they have concluded that it was Hillary who was the candidate with Russia's backing. And as bizarre as it may sound, as she was the chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, they were adamant on peddling this theory to try to damage Hillary as much as they could before her inevitable nomination as VP. The right-wing hysteria on Hillary being Russia's favoured candidate didn't resonate much into the mainstream media, but the noise still irked Hillary nevertheless.

Hillary was back in the Senate, serving the people of New York. On her first day back at the Senate after she exited the presidential race, she was warmly received by her Democratic and Republican incumbents alike. Everywhere she went, she was met with applause and words of congratulations.

When she had finished all of her meetings and hearings for the day, she returned to her office for a quick tea before heading home. To her surprise, she found her former deputy campaign manager Paul Manafort in the room.

"Paul! I didn't you would be coming. What brings you here?"

"I have some insider info for you. You know - Bill Clinton's VP shortlist and some other interesting stuff."

"Well, shall we head to my private office for a quick chat?"

"Of course."

Hillary and Paul entered her office, and Hillary made sure to lock the door so that nobody could interrupt them.

"So, What's the latest?" Hillary asked.

"Aunt Margaret wasn't exactly happy that we lost to that Southern rag," Paul grimaced as he replied, "but Aunt likes the idea of you being his VP. If we play our cards right, we can impeach him and you'll be the President."

"Wow, Aunt is relentless," Hillary remarked. "But what if I wasn't picked to be his VP?"

"Oh nonsense," Paul dismissed. "Clinton is bound to pick you."

"I am just being cautious, you know. Everything's possible. I mean, come on. It's American politics. Everything's a circus."

"But still, I don't see Clinton not picking you."

Hillary shrugged it off. "Even if he did, the conservative media's after my head."

"Oh yeah, Aunt has something to say about that as well."

"What?"

"She says to keep it cool and ignore them. She'll handle it"

"She better do it right this time because she handled Dan Soriano and if not because of her, I wouldn't me pulled into this mess."

"Relax. The mainstream media hadn't caught on. It's just the fringe right-wing circles," Paul assured her.

"I know. All I am saying is that Aunt Margaret makes mistakes too," Hillary pointed out.

"Fair enough," Paul conceded. "Now, about Bill Clinton, I've heard that he's choosing between you and Senator Al Gore."

"So between me and the man with the voice that could put a stadium to sleep," Hillary retorted. "If you are so confident that I'll be chosen, why are you still giving me updates like this?"

"I just want you to know, Hillary. Don't be testy on me."

"And Aunt Margaret's mistake could have cost me my political career," Hillary complained. "Good thing the mainstream media has a short term memory otherwise I would be hounded for week and even months. The only reason that it died is that the CIA assured that Bill Clinton and President Bush's campaigns weren't infested by Russians."

"My, you are feisty," noted Paul.

"You would if you lost the nomination to a man-slut," Hillary barked.

"Hillary, relax," Paul assuaged her. "Don't give up yet. Aunt Margaret thinks that one day, Bill Clinton will rue the day and you will become President."

"Fine," Hillary slumped into her chair, her arms crossed. "It's not as if I could do anything about it now."

"Good girl. Now be patient and wait until Bill Clinton announces his VP pick. By what I heard from Huma, your interview went well?"

"You could say that, yeah." Hillary couldn't look at Paul because something had happened during her interview that could very well jeopardize her chances of being picked as the VP nominee.

"Good," Paul replied, satisfied. "Guess I have to leave now. I have a lot of other people to brief."

"Sure," Hillary said, a headeache brewing. "Just let me know if you get anything new."

"Of course."

Paul turned around and saw Hillary's face turn green. She looked weak and clammy. Her head was resting on her fingers, and she looked like she was going to throw up. This episode only confirmed his suspicions from the past few weeks. She was antsy, always exhausted and regularly had headaches. He knew what as going on, and he knew it stemmed from the night Hillary slept with Bill Clinton to get a sample of his semen.

As soon as he left Hillary's office, he drove to his house and used the secure phone line there.

Aunt Margaret should know about this.


Bill sat in his personal study in the Governor's Mansion reading and re-reading the profiles of Hillary Rodham and Al Gore. Both were solid candidates for VP, but he knew who the better candidate, hands down. The more he read Hillary's profile, the harder it was for him to reject him. She was brilliant in every way, but she would be a liability to him. After all, she was a Russian spy, and pregnant.

Pregnant. Hillary was pregnant. Bill's heart dropped everytime he thought of Hillary carrying another man's child. Bill had this outlandish fantasy of Hillary being pregnant with his child. He knew it would never happen, it brought him joy. But now that Hillary was carrying a child that was not his, it destroyed him to the core.

Then there was the fact that Hillary had cheated on him. Sure, they weren't in a relationship, but it felt like they were. He had reserved himself for her, despite several woman in the campaign trail expressing their interest in him.

How could she?

Bill closed his eyes. Focus, he told himself. Hillary was a Russian spy. She was trained to deceive people, to earn their trust and to betray them when it was most opportune. Bill was thankful that he had stopped himself from fucking Hillary, otherwise he would have been in a more compromising position, and she would have used their intimacy as her leverage.

He threw the binders away, his mind made up but his heart wasn't. He knew that Al Gore was his sole pick for the Vice Presidency, Nevertheless, it would kill him to see the hurt on Hillary's face when it would be revealed to her that she wasn't going to be the VP nominee.

He knew it was the coward's way out, but Bill had no choice but to simply let James and George speak with Hillary. It is a tradition in presidential campaigns that the nominee himself would deliver the decision to the VP candidate, but in Hillary's case, he just couldn't. And it would probably be for the best.  He needed to be insulated from her.

He tried to tell himself that keeping away from her was for the good of the United States, but he knew deep down that it was for his cowardly heart.

Chapter Text

"That is why, I am wholeheartedly endorsing Governor Bill Clinton for President of the United States of America!"

The crowd in Madison Square roared in applause as Hillary uttered those words at the Convention stage. It was the third day of the Democratic Convention, and Hillary was chosen to be the keynote speaker that day. This spot was usually reserved for the most respected members of the party, such as former Presidents. Hillary was honored to accept the slot, but nevertheless, she was pissed.

When she thought she was a shoo-in for the VP nomination, she was surprised by a call from James Carville telling him that Bill had chosen Senator Al Gore as his running mate. She was livid, not only because she was led on, but also because he didn't even have the decency to tell her himself. What a jerk and a coward. Of course he is, Hillary thought. He was an asshole who would stick his cock to the next available pussy, and he had probably seen another woman- especially he knew that she was pregnant with another man's baby.

Despite her anger towards Bill, Hillary accepted the invitation from Bill's campaign to speak at the convention and campaign for him. She kept a fake smile as she waved to the adoring crowds cheered for her. She would rather be anywhere else. But she had to make this facade. She still had a mission to do. She needed to get close to Bill, in case he won. She might even land the Secretary of State gig.

As Hillary stepped off the podium, the crowd erupted into louder applause. She turned around and saw Bill, who was supposed to be in Little Rock, emerge from the backstage and wave to the adoring crowds. Hillary felt a little unsure of what to do. She knew that Bill would make a "surprise" appearance but she still didn't know what to do with him. She hadn't seen him since the interview, and she feared that she might break down if he came closer.

To her utmost surprise, he approached her. He was smiling at her as if nothing happened, and it raged her, but she couldn't make a scene. He extended his hand at her for a handshake. She took his hand and she crushed it, channeling her anger and rage into that handshake. She saw the small wince in his face that told her that he was hurting, and it gave her satisfaction.

She withdrew her hand, but what did next surprised her. He didn't really let go, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. He was melting into her arms, and Hillary was angry and confused. Why would he do this? And why was he acting like he didn't throw her out unceremoniously?

Despite her rage, Hillary could admit that he felt good in her arms. This was where he belonged. Her heart was on the verge of bursting, and she wasn't sure if she could stop it. She missed him, that much was true.

Hillary pulled away and went back to waving at the crowd, pretending that Bill wasn't there? He might have been following her, but she didn't care. She kept waving and smiling, basking at the love of the people.

When she returned backstage, she met with some of her staunchest supporters and her closest allies. When she was done and ready to go, a campaign aide called her. She was told that Bill wanted to see her in his suite. 

Hillary could only roll her eyes, but she couldn't say no to the Democratic nominee.

The aide directed her to Bill's suite. She opened the door, and strangely, she found the room empty.

It would not take long for her to realize that the room wasn't empty when she felt herself being yanked sideways. She turned around and suddenly, she felt the soft, warm lips of Bill crushing into hers, fiery and angry. He was insisting on gaining entry into her mouth, but she wasn't relenting. How dare he kiss her like that when he suddenly stopped talking to her, as if she was from one of his one-night stands?

But she wasn't pulling away. She was enjoying this torture. She enjoyed seeing Bill struggle, to deny him what he had always wanted. He bit and sucked her lips, but she was unrelenting. She kept herself from giving in completely.

Bill kissed her hungrily, finally forcing her mouth open as his tongue slipped inside. Bill’s powerful arms snaked around her waist and carried her, making her legs feel his arousal. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, swallowing her low moans as they kissed sensually until they hit the wall. He felt Hillary let go of his wrists, choosing instead to let her hands get lost in his thick hair.

He pulled away, the need to breathe overpowering. He kissed hotly down her jaw, lips finding the skin above her collar and sucking lightly on her pulse. She ground herself against his leg, and Bill found the heat scorching through his pants. The way she moaned his name sent a chill down his spine and a bolt to his groin.

His large hands found her breasts, massaging her nipples firmly with his thumbs. She grabbed his face, pulling him back up to kiss her, his bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Bill's hands made their way to her ass, and he lifted her against the wall, settling her around his waist.

Hillary wasn't sure when it happened, but he managed to get her up against the wall, her back against him, his lips and tongue caressing the hollow point of her throat. His hands were at her hips, skimming down to her thighs and bringing them up to wrap around his waist.

Bill pulled back slightly. "I’ve been wanting to do this since I could remember," he mumbled before pressing a hot kiss behind her ear.

Hillary gasped, rolling her hips hard against his. "You should have done it at your first chance."

Deft fingers pulled at the buttons of her blouse, revealing the swells of her breasts and a sheer black bra. Bill reached around her to undo the clasp. "You’re not an easy woman. You wouldn’t have made it easy for me" The thin material fell from her shoulders and he eagerly licked at the exposed skin, tossing the shirt aside.

"I’m not making it easy for you now either. Especially after you lead me on and raised my hopes up."

He grinned before nipping at her flesh. His left hand cupped her right breast, kneading it firmly, while his mouth trailed to her other breast, lips latching onto the nipple as he nursed softly.

"Fuck," Hillary whispered loudly. The combination of his suckling and his erection pressed directly against her ass was not only driving her mad – it was making it very difficult to stay quiet. Bill groaned in frustration when her hips wiggled against his, his hard cock brushing against her crotch.

"Oh Hilly" he uttered breathlessly. He managed to pin her hands into the wall, keeping her from making any escape.

“Is that how you treat women, huh, Clinton?” she spat, half-daring him to get rough on her.

Bill took a deep breath before forcefully yanking her skirt and panties altogether. He haphazardly removed his pants, freeing his angry cock. He planted a deep, wet kiss on her neck, hitting the spot that always made her sigh. His one hand crept on her bare breast, and the other kneaded her ass roughly.

Hillary shivered slightly when she felt his hands slide down to her clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in earnest. Under normal circumstances, Bill would have enjoyed listening to Hillary lose it or maybe tease her a bit. But given how frustrated he was and how her hand was sliding behind her and stroking him just right, he wasn't sure he could wait much longer.

Hillary blinked in confusion when she felt him pull away, her mind in a lust-filled fog. "Hold the wall," he told her as he positioned himself behind her.

"What do you mean hold the – oh fuck," she hissed from the vigorous thrust. Her hands shot out on their own to brace against the wall in order to help her keep her balance.

"Sorry," Bill grunted who was in a state of euphoria now that he was inside of her. His hands latched onto her hips and he pulled back slowly before lunging forward again.

"Oh God," moaned Hillary breathlessly. Bill wore a smug smile as he maintained a steady rhythm, using only long, deep strokes for the moment. It would satisfy her for a while, but he knew her well enough to know that she'd demand that he speed up soon.

Hillary bit her lip as she felt him slide in and out of her, hips rocking back to meet his on every thrust. His hands had moved from her hips to her breasts, fondling them mercilessly. Her body felt hot all over, and she swore she could feel him at the back of her throat.

Bill's left hand traveled down her abdomen to the crevice between her thighs, thumb finding the swollen bud that was begging for his attention. He pressed down on her clit, rubbing it slowly in firm circles. Her walls clenched around his shaft in response, and he let out a choked gasp from the sensation.

"Fuck, Bill… harder," she moaned out feverishly. "Go faster."

"You’re not the boss of me. I can do whatever I want. After you’ve broken my heart, this is what you deserve" he said through gritted teeth.

Hillary wanted to reach back and smack him. He wanted to be dramatic now?! When she was this close to heaven?! “Fuck you.”

He was already doing that, he thought. He continued to press into her, though now his thrusts were coming just a bit sharper than before.

Hillary let out a fierce growl. "Bill, I swear to God if you don't fucking – oh! Oh God yes!"

He decided he'd tease her the next time they decided to get intimate. Bill didn't have enough self-control at the moment to hold out much longer. He rolled his hips harder against hers, and he could feel the strain of his efforts in his burning legs. His body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and it made it difficult to keep a firm hold on her hips.

Hillary's eyes were closed tightly, her mouth was wide open, a soft gasp of pleasure escaping on each thrust. Her entire world was focused on the white-hot pleasure that was building in her abdomen at an alarming speed. Bill's hands squeezed her ass before sliding up her back to her shoulders to grip them firmly, and he began to thrust into her at a furious pace.

Bill could feel his release stirring in the pit of his stomach, and Hillary's cries of pleasure were only pushing him closer to the edge. He was trying to hold back for her, but he knew he couldn't hold off his orgasm for much longer. Thinking quickly, he again used his thumb to stroke her clit, and he felt her walls tighten uncontrollably around his cock.

"I think… baby I'm cumming! Oh my God!" she cried as her legs trembled. Her nails scratched along the wall as her orgasm hit her, and Bill had to keep himself from squashing her against the wall.

Her walls tugged on his shaft with an unbearable heat, and he moaned her name loudly when he felt himself cum hard. His nails dug into her hips as his seed spilled into her, body hunched over hers as he rode out his climax. Bill braced his hands on the wall as the last tremors rocked his body, ragged breaths escaping him.

When both of them had calmed down, Bill had gently pulled himself out, and Hillary freed herself from his grasp. She crawled to the nearest couch, picking up her underwear and the rest of her dignity.

Bill could tell that she was about to cry, and his soft heart went out to her. He followed her and held her hand. She pulled away, turning her back against him. On a normal circumstance, he would let her sulk, but she had to hear what he had to say.

“Hillary, listen to me,” he said, holding her face tenderly. “Up to this point, we’ve been lying to each other, and I believe we should come clean.”

“I know what you are and where your loyalties lie, Hillary, and I know what you are sent to do here,” Bill said without any hint of disgust or repudiation, only tenderness. “I know everything, and I know that you know who I work for and where my allegiances lie. This is why I decided on my running mate the way I did. But trust me, had the circumstances been different, I would have wanted you by my side.”

Tears fell down Hillary’s cheeks. His revelations shocked her, but it touched her deeper.  

“It breaks my heart we fell in love with each other based on lies,” he continued. “And despite the consequences of my actions, I choose you, Hilly, because I love you. You are the woman that I want to build my future with.

Hillary’s heart jumped for joy hearing that Bill reciprocated her feelings for him, but her trained reflexes jumped into action.

“You’re a trained US asset,” she pulled away.

“I know,” he said, his eyes clearly telling her his intentions. “You can read into this as much as you want, but I am just speaking from my heart.”

“But I am pregnant,” Hillary said defiantly. “With another man’s child.”

“That child is born out of our love, Hillary,” he said.

“Are you being silly?!” she said, indignant. “This child has nothing to do with you.”

“Yes it is. That night, when I slept with you, I know you were asked to seduce me so you could get a sample of my semen to incriminate me. I wanted to pleasure you so badly, but I would ruin you if I did so I didn’t. And because you needed to have something else instead, you slept with another man so you can protect me. So you see? It’s because we love each other so much that’s why this baby came into fruition.”

Bill hesitantly touched Hillary’s belly hesitantly, but when she didn’t resist, he gently placed his hand on her still flat belly.

“I will love this child as if he or she is my own,” Bill declared, “if you will have him.”

Hillary couldn’t anymore control the tears that threatened to spill, so she let herself go and clung unto him, weeping on his chest.

“I love you too, Bill,” she said. “More than you'll ever know.”

Chapter Text

Hillary watched from the rostrum as CIA director Bob Gates testified in front of the Senate Intelligence Committee, one where Hillary belonged to. This was her first Senate hearing since she dropped out from the presidential race. When Hillary entered, the Senate erupted into a thunderous applause, with the audience cheering her and her colleagues shaking her hand, congratulating her for being the woman who had gone further than any woman in the path towards the presidency. Despite the deep partidan divide, Hillary remained loved and respected in the Senate.

Hillary waited impatiently for the hearing to end. Usually, she was listening and drilling down the details of every hearing she's been on, but she needed for this hearing to end because she needed to speak with Gates about a matter of life and death.

When the hearing was finally over, Hillary glared at Bob Gates, to which he returned. She quietly hurried from the hearing room to the SCIF, where Senators usually work with senstive intel, similar to the White House Situation Room.

When Hillary arrived, Bob Gates was already there, She gently closed the door, unnoticed by the passers-by.

"We have five minutes until anyone notices us," Hillary said urgently. "I want out of Olya."

Operation Olya, the most secret of all secret CIA missions. It was so covert that only the President of the United States, the National Security Advisor, the director of the CIA and the head of the Clandestine Service knew about it. Not even the other heads of CIA consituent units knew about ot. It was forbidden beyond those four men to mention the word

"Olya" or refer to it in any way, but Hillary shattered that sacred rule, much to Bob's chagrin.

"And why is that?" Bob tried to sound alarmed.

"Don't fool me, Sir," she said condescendingly. "I know that you already know by now. Dennis O'Keefe reports to you. Surely, you know what I have done."

"Fine," Gates conceded. "But you know there is no way out. The moment you walk away, you have a target on your back."

"Is that a threat?" she said under gritted teeth.

"No. It's a fact. The Kremlin will be after you. You're their most valuable asset."

"And also yours," said Hillary. "Don't forget, you need me more than I need you."

Bob shot her a deadly glare. "Don't go cocky on me just because you succeeded on your mission."

"I more than just succeeded on my mission," she corrected him. "Don't forget, if I didn't do my job, then that CIA contractor would have been dead."

"I knew what I was up for when I agreed to be your girl to bait the Russians, and I am proud to have served this great country by putting myself on the line, but I want more than just to be your obedient solider. I want a life, Bob. I want a career and a family. I want to help kids as well as having my own. I am not a robot, Bob. I am human too."

"Well, you ain't gonna be of so much use to your family if you're dead," Bob snarled.

"Aren't you going to do something to ensure my protection? Isn't that what we do to those who serve this great country?" she asked indignantly.

"Yes, we do. But you're an exception," Bob replied.

"And why is that?"

"Because you're not supposed to exist, or at least outside the highest chains of command," Bob reasoned. "If other people in the government found out your role, then they might think that we tipped the scale in the Democratic primary."

"Which you did, in case you've forgotten," Hillary said bitterly.

"Nobody must know!" Bob said forcefully. "This is the last time I want to hear about this. You will continue your mission!"

"Alright," Hillary licked her lips. "I will continue fucking Bill Clinton, seduce him into marrying me just as the Kremlin will surely want me to and when I am First Lady, my husband's first executive action will be to fire your sleazy ass."


"You seem to be in deep thought, Baby."

Hillary snapped out of her reverie, her bare body snuggled against Bill as she sat on top on his flush naked body, lounging in his private sofa sofa. They were in his hotel room, relishing their rare private time after a grueling day in the campaign trail. Hillary was absentmindedly rubbing his cock. As much as Bill was in utter bliss, he noticed that something was weighing on her mind.

"Do I?" she asked innocently.

"I know how to read body languages, Honey. Apart from the fact that your expression is obvious," he quipped.

"Alright, you win," she smiled. "But answer this first."

"Hmmmm?"

"Is it because you are a master body language reader the reason why you are so good with communicating to people using body language expression?" she asked. "I couldn't help but notice that you have excellent body language skills for a politician."

"First of all, I am flattered that you are staring at me and studying my body language," Bill grinned. "Second, while I am well-versed in reading people's body language, my own body language is quite natural. That's just the way I am."

"Hmmmm, really? You didn't do anything to make me fall for you?"

Bill shook his head. "I wouldn't do that. Not to you."

She raised an eyebrow. "You have every motive to make me fall for you."

"I know. But I knew you were different the moment I laid eyes on you. Even before I knew who you really are."

"Liar," Hillary teased, giggling. "You can prove your sincerity, though."

"How?"

"Make love to me."

Bill smirked. "Where do you want to be?"

Hillary brushed her hair with her hand. "Top."

The two of them moved to settle themselves, he on the couch and she on his lap. He held his hard cock high into the heavens, ready to be trapped inside her depths. Hillary stroked her clit, soaking moisture all over her slit. She knelt on top of him and gently rubbed her entrance against his head, torturing them both. She stroked him a little more before she raised herself and slowly impaled herself, loving the slow friction of their bodies, until every last inch of his cock was buried inside her.

Perhaps it was the way her soft, pouty lips parted as she rode him at a lazy gallop, or the seductive sway of her breasts as she rose and fall unto him. Maybe it was the sensual gaze her bright blue eyes focused on him alone, the sexy way she nibbled her bottom lip cause it felt so damn good to be making love. Her oh-so-erotic moans of "Ah...ah...ahhh,"... or the hypnotic rise and fall of her hips over his lap that overwhelmed Bill's heart and soul beyond words.

His strong arms closed tightly around her, nearly as tight as the way her body held him so deeply inside her. He nuzzled her temple before brushing his lips over her ear. When he gently bit at the lobe she purred. When he captured her mouth, he drowned her in long, lush kiss as their tongues wetly dueled. He was supposed to shun her, as she was the greatest threat to him and to the country he loved, but in a weird twist of fate, she the person in the world that Bill loved the most. He had fallen in love with her, she held his heart and soul.

His fingers tangled in her soft blonde hair, clutched at times, marveling at the softness at others.

With her head reclined back, Hillary rose and fell over his hard cock while holding the back of his head to the side of her neck. His tongue and teeth marked her. He was gentler than their first rough time together, soothing, passionate and beautiful. She had taken him inside her once more, despite common sense.

As she began to ride again, whining softly in his ear, a tenderness grew within her. Sinking onto him over and over, slowly fucking herself on his cock because she absolutely loved that raw, primal sexuality he wore all over his face. He was so hard and smooth inside her, filling her so fully the sensation felt illegal it was so perfect. Her right hand lovingly caressed his face, tracing over his jaw, tapering off his chin as he held her stare the entire time. The feelings were to close to the surface, so she dove after him, her tongue probing hungrily between his lips as she rode harder. His hands clasped and squeezed her bare ass in time with her thrusts as the soft, smacking noise of frantic fucking grew until she felt him swell, tense and then throb powerfully inside her.

"Billy...."

"Oh Hilly....fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!"

She ate his orgasmic cry with a kiss as his cock jerked and spasmed insider her. She kept on riding until she milked him dry, until at last his hands held her hips down, stilling her movement.

When they calmed down and settled, they returned to their old position, snuggling, their bodies flush and sweaty, tightly pressed into each other as two people could ever be.

"I loved it, Billy," Hillary said. "Thank you.".

"Not at all. I loved it as well," Bill chuckled.

"It's not the only thing I am thankful for," Hillary added, which made Bill raise a brow. "I am thankful for accepting me and my mistakes. You didn't make me choose. If you were another man, my baby will already be gone."

"Because if you really love someone, you won't make them choose," Bill replied.

Hillary replied."Our baby is going to be so lucky. She'll have the best Dad in the world."

Bill snuggled closer. "I am going to the happiest Dad when he or she arrives."

Hillary smiled, her heart full of love. She rested her head in his chest, not a worry in her mind. With Bill, she felt safe. With Bill, she felt loved.

Chapter Text

The Senate had commenced its recess, and Hillary had gone home to New York. She wanted to join Bill in the campaign trail, but her boyfriend himself wanted her to stay home and rest. As discussed with her closest friends and staffers, she would announce her pregnancy after the reccess. That way, the first trimester had gone and there's a lower risk of miscarriage.

Hillary missed Bill terribly,  so every evening, she would watch the nightly news just to get a glimpse of him and when his events are over, he would call her in her New York apartment and they would talk and talk until the wee hours in the morning. Hillary had to remind him that they both needed sleep, and he would whisper her good night and he would look forward to speaking to her the next night. The cycle would continue, and each they, their hearts grew more and more.

One night, Hillary was told by Bill that he couldn't call her the following evening because he was to attend a closed-door fundraiser. Hillary perfectly understood and she let him go. In all honesty, Hillary was quite relieved to have a break from her routine with Bill because she wanted to take a long hot soak and curl in with a good book.

However, she plans for a perfectly relaxing evening was ruined when her former campaign manager, Paul, paid her a visit that night.

"Hello!" Hillary greeted Paul when he knocked on her door.

"It's so good to see you again, Hill," Paul gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "How have you been? And how's the pregnancy?"

"I've had a town hall meeting at Brooklyn earlier. It was kind of rough because people aren't happy with the economy. But other than that, I am completely fine. So is the baby. Come in, come in...."

"Thanks."

"So, what brings you here?" Hillary said as she sat on the couch.

"Oh nothing, I just want to have a catch-up with you. We haven't really seen each other since the campaign. I just want to know how you've been doing."

Hillary was very well aware that Paul was here to gather information for a status update to Aunt Margaret. "I am doing okay. We're going to announce the pregnancy when I return to the Senate," she said.

"That's great," Paul replied. "You know, we've all been worried about you. I mean, your baby can be a political liability. A single mother! Getting pregnant without a husband!"

Hillary simple smiled.

"On top of that, reporters will surely dig up the records and then they'll realize that you haven't gone to any sperm banks.

"I have already thought of that, Paul," said Hillary with a sated look. "I am ready to face whatever storm. This baby makes me happy, Paul. I've never thought I'll be a mom, but here I am. I love my baby. I'll exchange my political success with a lifetime of happiness with this little guy or girl," she replied, rubbing her small baby bump.

"Hillary," said Paul, "I am happy for you, but Aunt Margaret won't be happy to hear you say that. She's relying on you."

"I know, and I will be there for here whenever she needs me, but I want to have my own family too," she said. "I can do both, being a mom and being there for Aunt Margaret."

Paul bit his lip. "Alright, I'll tell her. I don't know if she'd be happy, but I'll try to soften the blow."

"Thanks," she replied appreciatively. "You're the best, Paul."

"I am," he replied smugly. "And because I am the best, I bought you an entire mocha cake. I know you like mocha cake when you're sad, but I don't know what you like when you're happy, so I just chose this one." He handed the box of cake to Hillary.

"Awwww, you shouldn't have! But you're right, I do like mocha cake when I'm sad. And I do love it, regardless of whether I am happy or not."

"That's good to know," he said, "now, I should probably take my leave. My wife wants me to pick her up from her shopping spree."

"Oh really? What is she buying this time? Ostrich feathers?" she quipped.

"I have no idea," Paul chuckled. "Anyway, nice to see you again, Hill. See you soon."

"Bye!"

Once Paul was gone, Hillary stood up and slowly walked towards the fridge to stow the cake. Hillary already had her dinner, but looking at the cake, she felt quite tempted. She remembered that her doctor had advised her to take care of her sugar levels because she was at risk of having gestational diabetes. However, it wouldn't probably hurt if she snuck in one thin slice before bed. Giving in to her craving, she went to get the cake knife and took a small piece for satisfy her sweet cravings.


Bill had already finished with the fundraiser but he remained in the ballroom a full hour after it ended. He just kept talking and talking with the donors and members of Congress who had been there to support him. He was in his natural element: being surrounded with people and getting to talk to them. He was really good at it, and based on the observations of the political analysts, he was the best campaigner in the country bar none.

It was already past 1 am when Dennis tapped his shoulder to tell him that it was time to leave. Bill was surprised at how the time flew so fast, but he had to do. He had a 7 AM call time and he didn't want to be late.

Once Bill was out from the public view, Dennis pulled him in a private room.

"Hey," Dennis whispered urgently. "There is something that you have to know.

"What?" Bill asked anxiously. He'd been dreading another attempt by Republicans to make fabricate another scandal. And they couldn't have timed it better. 

"It's about Hillary," replied Dennis.

Bill's heart raced.

"She's rushed to the hospital. She was found with so much flood. Looks like a miscarriage."

All of a sudden, Bill's world collapsed over him.


 

Hillary simply stared in the ceiling as she lay in her hospital bed, blaming herself for losing the child she had dreamed of. She wanted to punch herself for not taking care of herself well enough to keep her baby. She wanted to stab herself for being so careless. She felt like a complete failure. She could blame no one else but herself.

Hillary was so engrossed with her thoughts of her child that she didn't notice that Bob Gates enter her room.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Physically, yeah. Everything else, no," Hillary said numbly.

Bob nodded. "I am so sorry that his happened to you."

"No you're not," she snapped back. "You're not sorry at I loss my child because it means that I can go back being your number one asset against the Russians."

"Hillary, that's not..."

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" she screamed. "I KNOW YOU. I KNOW YOU ALL SEE ME AS NOTHING BUT YOUR PAWN! AND YOU'RE JUST HERE TRYING TO MAKE SURE THAT I AM STILL USEFUL!"

"No, Hillary," he said. "I am here to bring you some news."

Hillary looked away, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I know that you don't want to hear this but you have to know," said Bob. "We have credible information that Russia has something to do with your miscarriage."

Hillary looked at him with fury.

"Russia thought that the baby is Bill's, and they aren't stupid, Hillary. They have connected the dots. They thought that the reason why you kept this baby is because you love him. This is meant to be a revenge on you both."

The dam finally broke. Hillary wailed on her bed, trying to get out of the contraptions that confined her.

Bob simply watched Hillary in silence, letting her loose. As she continued sobbing, Bob quietly left. As soon as he got back to his office, his first plan of action was to inform President Bush about Hillary's condition, and for her safety, to recommend keeping her in Operation Olga for the rest of her life.

Chapter Text

After his last event in a stadium in NYC, Bill rushed to the hospital where Hillary was staying. He entered Hillary's suite, carrying a bunch of flowers. She was awake, but she was lying on her side, her back on her boyfriend. She was in no mood to accept visitors, let alone talk. Bill placed the bouquet on her bedside table and tapped her shoulder. She didn't move.

"Hilly," Bill whispered.

She pretended not to hear him. Bill knew that she was cutting all communication with the people around her, but he also knew that she needed him and that he would always be there for her. He just needed her to know that.
Bill did not push himself and so he sat down on the large armchair on the other side of the room, where Hillary couldn't see him. He picked up a newspaper, hoping to keep himself amused while he braced himself for the night.

When Bill had tired himself with the crossword puzzle, he eventually fell asleep, and Hillary finally turned around. She was annoyed that he was still there. Conceding that she couldn't throw him out, Hillary decided that the least she could do for him was to make him comfortable.

She grabbed a fresh pillow and a fresh sheet from her own duffel bag and tucked Bill in. She inserted the pillow between his head and his chair and covered him with the blanket. Feeling proud of his handiwork, she pressed a light kiss on his forehead. She was about to go back to bed when she heard him.

"Thanks for the goodnight kiss, Honey."

Hillary almost jumped when she heard him.

"I didn't know you're awake," Hillary said.

"I kinda did when you moved the pillow," he yawned. "Are you hungry? Do you need anything?"

"Not really," she replied. "I haven't felt hunger."

"But have you eaten?" he asked with great concern.

"Yes," she said faintly. The last thing she ingested was coffee this morning. He looked around and he saw the untouched dinner in her mobile table. He shook his head.

"You need to eat. I'll go out to buy you a sandwich..."

"No," she said a little too forcefully. "You don't need to. It's already late."

"Then I'll ask my staff to buy some," Bill insisted.

"No, really. I am fine," Hillary maintained.

"No, you aren't. You aren't eating your food and I suspect that that didn't just start today. You need to regain your strength, Hillary."

"What for, though?"

Bill pulled Hillary and made her sit next to him, holding her hands lovingly. "Your constituents need you. The American people need you."

"I am tired of serving this nation, farce or not," Hillary said, adding the last phrase to keep Bill from getting suspicious about her real double agent role. "It is always I who always has to make the sacrifice. Why is it always me?"

"Because nobody else dared to, because they are too cowardly," Bill said. "You are very brave, my darling."

"Nobody else gets to give up their baby by force because the adversaries of the US are going after them," Hillary remarked tearily.

"There, there, Honey," Bill kissed her hair. "I know it hurts now, but it's not the end."

Hillary looked at him, confused.

"When the dust settles, when this election is over, regardless of the result, I want to come out in the open with you, and we'll have a child of our own. We'll be a family. I'd like that to happen."

Hillary body was filled with warmth when Bill said that. She knew that it wasn't going to be easy, but she didn't want to think of that. The pain of losing her baby was softened by Bill's declaration.

"To be honest," she replied, "I am not sure if I want a baby just yet. The pain is still too raw."

"I understand," Bill rubbed her arm. "But if you think you are ready, I am just here."

"Thank you," she whispered. Bill tried to stifle his yawn but it didn't escape Hillary's notice. "Do you want to sleep already?"

"To be honest, yeah."

"Then why don't we go to bed?" Hillary suggested.

"Alright. Take the bed and I'll be comfortable here."
Hillary shook his head. She stood up and pointed her finger on the couch on the other end of the room. "That one doubles as a sofa bed."

Bill smirked, realizing what she wanted. "Of course. Let me set it up for you."

Bill unfolded the sofa bed and Hillary brought the pillows and sheets. Within three minutes, the found themselves snuggling together under the warm blanket.

That night, Hillary's world was perfect.


 

Hillary had returned to the Senate when the recess was over. Media outlets got wind of her hospitalization so her office was bombarded by questions. The public press release was she had fallen ill due to flu, and to her relief, nobody had questioned it. Not even when the Democratic nominee for president had spent a night in her hospital suite.

As a member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, meetings in the White House were common, that's why National Security Advisor Brent Scowcroft called her to his office after a meeting in the Oval Office with President Bush.
Scowcroft accompanied her to his office, and to her surprise, Bob Gates also slipped inside. She was told that this was going to be a private meeting between her and Scowcroft.

"Why is Gates here?" Hillary asked, clearly not happy that there was an intruder.

"I'm sorry for not informing you that Gates is here, otherwise you wouldn't have accepted," Scowcroft apologized. "Not after what happened between you in the hospital."

Hillary sat on Scowcroft's chair, surprising the two men. "I know what you want to discuss. My answer's going to be the same: I quit."

"Well, that's not exactly why we called you here," said Gates.

"Why else did you want me, then?" asked Hillary.

"We do want to discuss about Operation Olga," said Scowcroft, "but we didn't ask you to come here to beg you to stay. We called you because we want to tell you that your request to drop out of Operation Olga has been denied."

Hillary jumped out of her seat. "Why?"

"Because President Bush decided that you will be safer if you stay. The Russians will surely target you if you withdrew. They think you're on their side."

"In case you are too stupid to comprehend what your intelligence had told you, the Russians already think I am compromised because I have sexual relations with Governor Clinton," Hillary fired back angrily. "What difference does it make? They will target me anyway."

"But if you keep working for them, or at least make them think you are, the level of threat on your life will be considerably lower," Bob reasoned.

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit answer," said Hillary. "Just tell me the truth: you are afraid to lose your most valuable spy so you do everything you can to keep me, regardless of what happens to me."

"I'm not gonna deny that we want you out there, but you know how brutal the Russians are to their defectors and traitors. You of all people should know that, Hillary."

"I thought we won the Cold War? Why do you assholes act like we lost it? Why are you so afraid of them?" Hillary spat.

"Because they do not give a fuck about human rights!" Bob was starting to lose it.

"Yeah, sure," Hillary scoffed. "As if you two and the President care about my rights either."

"Hillary, we do...."

"So why did you pull out that diplomat from
Moscow when you thought the Kremlin had busted him?" she asked angrily. "If his safety is of concern to you, then, according to your reasoning, you should have kept him there where he could still fool the Russians into thinking that he works for them."

Scowcroft's blood was beginning to boil. "Hillary this is not the same thing!"

"No, Brent. It is," Hillary disagreed fiercely. "We both have targets on our backs, yet you chose to save him."

Scowcroft and Gates looked at each other, shame finally dawning on them.

When Hillary was satisfied that she had won the argument, she picked up her coat and marched to the door.

"Regardless of what the order is, I am out of Operation Olga," she declared. "From now on, my boss is going to be me and only me."

Chapter Text

370. 

That number was flashed on the screens across all TV networks. That was the number of electoral college votes that Bill managed to secure, thus handing the presidency to him. He won all the swing states, plus other states a Democrat could just dream of winning. The energy in the Clinton Campaign headquarters in Little Rock was electric. Staffers young and old were jumping in joy, hugging each other and crying, as they delivered the victory to the candidate they fought for.

Hillary watched the events unfold, ears glassy with tears, inside a private room in the HQ dedicated for her. In the weeks leading up to the election, it had been an open secret in the campaign that Hillary was there in Governor Clinton's behest. They knew what was happening in the sidelines. They knew why she was there. At first, she was met with cautious glances from the staffers, but after some time, they warmed up to her, seeing how happy their candidate was whenever she was with him.

Hillary rested a hand on her chest, her heart swelling. She was so proud of him, the youngest president-elect in history.

Hillary jumped when she heard the door open, and her heart soared when she saw Bill, all smiles. She ran towards him and buried herself in his tight embrace.

"Congratulations, Baby," Hillary said. "I am so proud of you."

"Thanks, Honey. I couldn't have done it without you," Bill replied.

"Don't sell yourself short. You did all the hard work," she reminded him.

"But you were on my side when it mattered the most. You campaigning for me during the last stretch of the campaign made all the difference."

"370 electoral votes, Billy. I'm sure you could have done it without me," she said.

"No, Baby. We worked hard for this," he replied. "This is our victory."

Hillary smiled. Could she love him much more than she already had? She tipped up her toes for a kiss, and he caught her in her lips. Her tongue was demanding entrance in his mouth, and he eagerly welcomed her. She was so lost in the kiss that she didn't realize that she hooked her leg against his thigh.

"Whoa, whoa, Hill," said Bill, chuckling.

"Just got carried away, sorry," she giggled.

Bill simply chuckled. His face suddenly became serious and he led her to the couch where she was sitting.

"Hey, is there a problem?" Hillary asked, sensing something might be troubling Bill.

"Well, not a problem. But there is something that you must now. Actually, two things."

"Okay?" Hillary's heart was racing.

"First, President Bush had already called in to concede. And during the call, he discussed Operation Olga."

Hillary's heart suddenly stopped.

"He said that the future of the Operation lies unto me now because I will be the next President. Just so you know, I have known Operation Olga ever since I became the nominee, because I have been receiving the same classified briefings as President Bush."

"Therefore," Bill continued, "I have decided that I will release you from Operation Olga, and that will be my first executive action once I become President."

Bill's words never sounded lovelier in her ears.

"Oh Bill!" Hillary wrapped her arms around his neck, struggling to contain her tears. "Thank you. Thank you for giving me freedom."

"No, Hillary. I, on behalf of the American people, thank you. Thank you for keeping us safe and free. If it had been not for you, the United States might have fallen into the hands of a Russian puppet, destroying our institutions and ideals. You are a hero, Honey."

Hillary simply listened, basking in his praise.

"Secondly, President Bush wanted to award you the Presidential Medal of Freedom. And there will be a private awards ceremony. This will be classified, of course," Bill added.

Hillary couldn't care less about any shit award. All she really cared about was that she's free.

"But you know, as future President, I can award you with something," Bill said cheekily.

Hillary wiped her tears and raised a brow. "What is it now?"

Bill pulled something from his pocket, and she was stunned to see a small velvet box.

Hillary covered her mouth in total shock as Bill opened the box to reveal a diamond ring.

“Hillary,” Bill said, “you have dedicated your life to protect the United States. You have saved a lot of lives, yet when you needed the protection of the US, we failed you. But let me protect you, Baby. Let me take responsibility for you. As your husband and lover.”

Hillary need not think twice, their future be damned.

“Yes,” she replied. “A billion times, yes.”

Relief washed over Bill when he heard her acceptance. He kissed her, eagerly anticipating the bright future ahead of them. With him ascending to the presidency, she would be with him every step of the way.

Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow. 


 

"Make love to me, Honey." 

"Yes," Bill replied, pulling her skirt down. He allowed himself a moment to take in her body. She's fuller now, hips wider, stomach slightly softer but still flat, breasts fuller, because of the pregnancy. He noticed she's looking at him the same way, noting all the differences from the last time. She reached for his pants and pulls them down.

He shook his legs a bit so they fall to his ankles. He hooked Hillary's legs around his waist, ran the tip of his cock up and down her outline to feel how wet she was, and then pushed in until he's buried to the hilt. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open and she gasped. He waited a moment for her to adjust and then, pushing his fingers into her hips, he pulled out only to slam right back into her. She screamed, digging her fingers into his shoulder blades as he repeated the motion, building up speed with each thrust.

He pressed his mouth against hers, kissing her in time with his movements. Wanting to be deeper inside her, Bill lifted her legs higher.

He couldn't help but think of the last time they did this, what he said to her. And now, after all this time, he still meant it. Even more so now.

"Cum inside me," she said, her voice harsh and breathless. Bill bit her neck in response and the thought of Hillary wanting to procreate with him was too much. When the moment came, he pushed has hard as he could inside her, praying that this coupling would result in a new life inside her. A life that they had always dreamed of.

“Hmmm,” Hillary hummed when Bill pulled out and lay beside her, her eyes heavy with drowsiness. “You have an early morning call time tomorrow, Honey.”

“I do,” Bill yawned. “First press conference as President-Elect.”

“That’s right,” Hillary replied. “And I’m going to fly back to New York. I’ll draft my resignation letter once I get home.”

Bill blinked, the look of surprise etched on his face.

“Don’t be surprised,” Hillary admonished him playfully. “You asked me to be your wife, so I assume I’ll be First Lady at some point.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I am just stunned that you will leave the Senate. It will have lost an institution.”

“Don’t worry,” Hillary smiled. “The White House will have gained one.”

Bill snuggled closer. “It will, once you become the first female president.”

Hillary looked at him with disbelief. “Surely you don’t believe that’s not going to happen.”

“Oh, I do. If not in 2004, then in 2008,” he replied. “Of course, I am assuming that I’ll win reelection in 1996,” he chuckled.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You still have a lot to do. Pass healthcare, balance the budget, grow the economy, create world peace…”

“And in all of that, you’ll be right by my side,” he said affectionately.

Hillary smiled, sealing the deal with a kiss.

“Always.” 


 


I, William Jefferson Clinton, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God.

As soon as Bill dropped his right hand, he pulled Hillary, who was holding the Bible for him, into a tight hug, letting the millions of viewers around the world know how much she meant to him. Once foes, the two of them presented a united front, showing that they were stronger together. As Bill waved to the crowd, Hillary watched him with absolute pride.

As Bill basked in the applause of the crowds and well wishes, Hillary caught the eye of the Russian ambassador. Hillary remembered the letter that was anonymously sent to her house the day after the elections. It said, “Watch your back, if I were you.” There was no question in Hillary’s mind as to who sent this letter. She should have told Bill about this, but she didn’t. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into his mess, no matter how willing he was to fight her battles. No.   

As Hillary walked away from the stage and into the Capitol, her eyes were transfixed on the Ambassador, who gave her a sour look. Hillary stared at him, unblinking, not surrendering. It was only when another diplomat caught the attention of the ambassador did they break eye contact, and Hillary was able to blend into the inauguration crowd. She knew that her war against the Russians was far for over. In fact, it hadn’t even started.

Bring it on, she thought. You may destroy me, but not the ideals that I am fighting for.

Bill looked around to find his fiancée, and he was relieved that she was just behind him. He grabbed her hand and kissed it as they walked the path from the National Mall to the Capitol, lever letting go.