Re-Enter Rebecca

by teehawk

In my humble opinion, Shonda Rhimes' greatest character is President Fitzgerald Grant. In anticipation of this week's mid-season premiere, this three episode story promises to honor "Scandal" by being a little bit racy and a little bit twisted. Fitz finally embarks on the relationship that he truly deserves, but what if Fitz's new love interest is actually an old love interest?...

SCANDAL FAN-FICTION by Teehawk - 2.7.2016.

Forget about Meredith Grey. Never mind Annalise Keating. In my humble opinion, Shonda Rhimes' greatest character is President Fitzgerald Grant.

As of this season's winter finale of 2015, it looks like he and Olivia Pope have called it quits for the final time.

In anticipation of this week's mid-season premiere, this three episode story promises to honor "Scandal" by being a little bit racy and a little bit twisted. Fitz finally embarks on the relationship that he truly deserves, but what if Fitz's new love interest is actually an old love interest?...

Episode 1: Re-Enter Rebecca

Scene 1

It is the first day of President Fitzgerald Grant's last 100 days in office, and he is celebrating in the same way he has ever since he and Olivia Pope broke up for good—by waking up next to a high-end call girl. He turns over to reach for the scotch next to his bed and bumps into the other woman.

He recognizes both of them. He pretends they are Olivia. He even calls them "Olivia." They've been to the Residence numerous times before, but never together.

Fitz smiles and rests his head back down on the pillow.

"Thank you, Cyrus."

There is a forceful knock on the door. From the other side he hears a familiar voice.

"Mr. President? We have that meeting in one hour, sir."

Cyrus stands outside the bedroom door with Abby in tow, waiting for a response.

"Red, I need you to stand over there, so I can—"

"Really, Cyrus? I'm not interested in peeking into the President's bedroom. The entire White House knows that any woman who stays overnight is a hooker. I don't know why I bother to publicize these phony high-profile dates he goes on."

"Unfortunately, our President is not interested in any of the age-appropriate, successful women that you have hoisted upon him. This is what he wants right now, and we won't have to deal with it for too much longer."

"This is not what he wants. We both know what he really wants, and it's not the Oliviabots."

"No, Red, he doesn't want her anymore." He points to the far corner, and Abby steps backward as he opens the door and goes inside.

"Mr. President?... Oh, dear God!" He jumps back out the room and slams the door shut.

Scene 2

The majority of the West Wing staff is huddled around a laptop on the conference table in the Roosevelt Room. The screen flashes a special news report as Fitz and Cyrus approach the Oval Office across the hall. Cyrus looks inside and wonders for a moment why everyone is in there, but he is too busy apologizing to a very happy Fitz.

"Sir, I must have double-booked them somehow."

"I thought you did it on purpose for my last 100 days. Can you set that up again for Wednesday?" Cyrus stops him in front of the doorway.

"Mr. President. With all due respect, I am your Chief of Staff, not your Chief Pimp. I really don't want to—" The lure of the Roosevelt is too much for him.

"What is going on in there?" He charges in with an equally-intrigued Fitz right behind him and clears his throat. No one acknowledges him.

The newscast shows a press conference. Not for a world leader, or a breaking story, or even for a celebrity shenanigan.

"After nine long months, the winner of the largest lottery jackpot in history has finally come forward," the anchorman excitedly states.

"Are you people kidding me?!" Cyrus exclaims. Abby brushes him off without turning around.

"Shh! They're about to announce who it is!" No one else turns around either, and the newscast continues.

"We are being told now that she is a 53-year-old registered nurse from New York City." Cyrus' anger grows.

"If you won't listen to me, you all had better listen to the President!" Everyone in the room turns to face Fitz. Some immediately, and some slowly in the hopes that maybe he really isn't standing there. No one speaks except Cyrus.

"Get back to work." Satisfied, he turns to leave, but Abby and some of the staff continue to watch the news.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce the sole winner of the Two Billion Dollar—" Cyrus spins around.

"Two billion dollars?!"

"—Lottery Extravaganza,—" Fitz shakes his head and smiles before he turns to leave.

"—Ms. Rebecca Gibson!" Fitz freezes in the doorway and slowly turns around.

On screen is a middle-aged, racially-mixed woman who walks out to the podium and shakes hands with the lottery officials. As she speaks, Fitz moves closer and closer to the computer, never taking his eyes off of her.

"Thank you, everyone. I know this is supposed to be a press conference, but I will not take any questions." The reporters protest, and Fitz now has a smile on his face that he couldn't get rid of if he tried.

"I only have a statement. For all of the get-rich-quick schemes and long, lost cousins who I don't have in the first place, do not come asking for any of this money. Every penny is accounted for, so as far as I'm concerned the two billion dollars is already spent." More protests, and she waits for them to quiet down.

"There are only two things that I want, and neither of them have anything to do with this money. The first is personal, and I will not discuss it with the media. The other thing is—" She sees in the monitor that she is in a close-up shot, so she looks directly into the camera with a sultry smile.

"I want to meet the President of the United States."

Fitz lets out a loud, hearty laugh that startles everyone, so they laugh along, including Cyrus.

"That is funny, sir. Like you're going to be at the beck and call of some—" Fitz cuts him off.

"Abby, find that woman and bring her to me. Right now." A confused Abby looks to Cyrus, who stares at the President hoping that this is not going to become another one of his special assignments.

Scene 3

The very next day, Abby walks through the West Wing with Rebecca Gibson. Everyone stares at the woman wearing the visitor's badge, who is dressed more like she should be on the White House tour instead of having an exclusive meeting with the leader of the free world.

Abby has her take a seat outside the Oval before she enters.

"Excuse me, Mr. President." Inside, there is an important meeting going on judging by who is in attendance.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you said to let you know when Rebecca Gibson arrives. Should I get the photographer?" Fitz lights up, which waves a red flag for Cyrus.

"We're in the middle of something, Red." Fitz ignores him.

"Where is she?" Abby looks over at Olivia and nods a quick hello.

"She's right outside, Mr. President." Fitz jumps up from behind his desk, and Mellie finally looks up from the papers in her hand.

"Bring her in!"

Abby opens the door and Rebecca is already standing there. She exhales at the sight of Fitz.

"Mr. President, may I introduce Rebecca Gibson. Ms. Gibson—" Rebecca raises her hand to stop her.

"I'll take it from here." She takes a step closer to him, which peaks the interest of the other people in the room, especially the guards outside the doorway.

Fitz and Rebecca stare at each other for what seems like an eternity to everyone else until they finally speak.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Olivia looks up from the papers in Mellie's hand, not sure if she heard what she just heard.

"Becky!"

"Fitzy!" She runs up to him and jumps in his arms. He swings her around in a full circle, then puts her gently down and hugs her with all his might.

Abby looks to Olivia and mouths the word "Fitzy?" to her. Olivia shrugs and looks to Cyrus, who immediately looks to Mellie. She doesn't notice anyone as she stares at Rebecca and tries to remember how she knows her.

"Rebecca. It's really you!"

"After all these years, Fitzgerald, you actually recognize me?"

"I would know you anywhere." They have yet to let go of one another, when Mellie jumps up.

"Is this her? Are you that 'Rebecca'?"

"I think you better introduce me, Fitzy." He already knows how what he is about to say is going to affect certain people in the room, so always the politician, he chooses his words carefully.

"Everyone, this is Rebecca Gibson. We grew up together."

"Oh, is that what the kids are calling it nowadays? 'Grew up'?" Rebecca looks for him to continue his explanation, but he tries his best to avoid eye contact with Olivia.

"Fitzy and I were each other's first love. Well, first everything, really. First kiss. First time. First—" He changes the subject.

"Rebecca's mother worked for our family." But she brings it right back to reality.

"Mom was the maid, and Dad was the unknown white man who raped her at the bus stop on her way home from work one night. After that, home became the Grant mansion. No more waiting for the bus." She looks around at all their faces, but no one says a word.

"Well, I've already met Press Lady." She points to Abby, then to Cyrus.

"And you must be the Chief." Cyrus nods and looks at his watch. He starts to say something, but she raises a hand and looks at the two women seated on the couch.

"And you must be my replacements." Mellie laughs, but Olivia is visibly offended.

"I guess I should thank both of you. You gave him the children I never got the chance to give him, and you kept him in great shape." She play punches Fitz in the stomach.

"You're like a marble statue, Fitzy." He laughs, but Mellie laughs even harder.

"I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you. It's just—" She turns to Fitz.

"This is Rebecca? This is the woman whose name you called out in your sleep on our wedding night. Now I understand." She genuinely smiles at her.

"When we were first married, you're the one he said he was supposed to marry. You're the one he said he was in love with. Thank you." She reaches out to shake her hand, but hugs her instead.

"Thank you so much. This explains everything!" She swings around to face Olivia.

"You're not special! You never were." She is almost hysterical as she looks back and forth at Fitz's former lovers.

"You had no power over him. You were just a substitute for her!"

Olivia looks like she wants to kill someone, but keeps her composure. Rebecca can feel her eyes on her, but ignores it and looks around the office.

"I still cannot get over this, Fitzgerald. This is just not you."

"I didn't decorate. The Oval Office comes as is."

"You know what I mean. You never wanted to be President." She turns to the others.

"Fitzy never wanted to be like his father. He never wanted to go into politics. We had our life together all planned out. We were going to be married and find the tiniest town in Connecticut or Vermont and raise a family. And I was going to be a country doctor, and he was going to be a country lawyer. Remember, Fitzy?"

Olivia looks like she is about to puke. Her entire relationship with Fitz dizzily flashes before her eyes as Rebecca's tone turns serious.

"I really do need to talk to you, Fitzgerald. I need your help."

"Anything."

She looks at the others, then leans into him and says, "We need one minute."

This time Olivia knows that she heard what she just heard, and the air gets sucked out of her lungs. She hurries out of the room, and Abby runs after her. But Fitz's concern is with his first love, and he turns to Mellie and Cyrus.

"Rebecca and I need the room."

Scene 4

Fitz and Rebecca sit on the couch and stare at each other in silence. He grabs her hands and finally speaks.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"No, baby."

"Becky, where have you been? Why didn't you get in touch with me?"

She laughs, "How was I supposed to do that?" She points to the phone on his desk.

"What's the number to the Oval Office? Or do I need the secret extension? Was I supposed to write you a letter? 'Dear Mr. President, I used to be your girlfriend.'"

"I wasn't always the President."

"No. You were married. And unlike your side chick that just ran out the room, I was not going to be with you that way."

"We could have been together, Becky. All this time."

"You're the one who left me, Fitzgerald. You chose to listen to your father and be with the other woman who just left the room. And now you have neither one of them."

It's a truth that cannot be denied, so instead of arguing, he gets up to pour himself a drink.

"You're a nurse? But you always wanted to be a doctor."

"Your father was only going to pay for so much schooling, Fitzy." He stops pouring the scotch.

"What?"

"You didn't know? Well, that makes two of us. He paid for my mother and I to move to New York, set us up in a fairly decent apartment, and paid for nursing school."

"Throw money at the problem. That's what Big Jerry always did." He takes a solid swig of his drink, and she looks offended.

"Well, 'the problem' didn't know about any of it before. I'm going to pay you back."

"That's not what I meant. It's just something he always did to make people go away."

"But I came back." They stare at each other and finally smile after a long moment.

"You don't have to pay anything back. That's silly. When did your mother tell you? How is she anyway?"

"She passed away a little over a year ago. She never told me. I found all the receipts." He puts down the drink.

"Oh, my God. I am so sorry, Becky. I loved your mother. She was always so good to me." He flops down on the couch.

"She adored you, too. She would talk about you from time to time, especially after you became President. But it was rough dealing with her these last few years. Of course, she was never the most stable person to begin with."

"That wasn't her fault."

"Oh, I know. That's why I'm here."

"But I'm the one who summoned you to the White House."

"Summoned? You think I didn't know that you would do that the moment you saw it was me?" He smiles and sees that she is now deep in thought.

"What's wrong?"

"My mother made me promise all my life that I would never try to find or seek revenge on the piece of garbage who attacked her, and I kept that promise. But now that she's gone, and I have the means to find anyone—"

"You want me to help you find your father."

"I want you to help me find him and kill him." He laughs, but sees that she is serious.

"We will bring him to justice. Not kill him. There's already been enough killing in the name of this Presidency. Trust me, Becky. You do not want to go down this path. You do not want to be responsible for taking a life." He holds her face and stares into her eyes.

"You are the kindest and best person I've ever known. Promise me you won't do this, and I'll help you."

She shakes her head yes, and Cyrus enters the room again. He hides his concern over seeing them so close together.

"Mr. President, we really should be getting to our next meeting."

"I'll be right there." He gets up from the couch. "Becky, have dinner with me here at the White House tonight."

"Here? No, I don't think so."

"You don't want to have dinner with me?"

"Of course, I do. But I don't feel comfortable here. And I don't think you do either. I've been leasing a place in Georgetown. Come over Saturday night. I'll cook dinner." His eyes light up. He certainly remembers her cooking, and then he suddenly realizes what she just said.

"Leasing a place? How long have you been in Washington?"

"A few months. I'll see you soon, Fitzy." She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek and a long, tight hug.

Scene 5

Olivia skips the continuation of Mellie's meeting to return to OPA. They can figure out exploratory committees and presidential strategies and potential running mates and possible opponents on their own. After yesterday's embarrassing revelations, she has much bigger, and more personal, fish to fry.

"Rebecca Gibson." She slaps the picture on the window, and everyone perks up.

"53 years old. Divorced. No children. Registered nurse at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in New York City. Specializing in Pediatric Oncology."

"You mean she takes care of dying children?" Marcus asks, wondering where this is going. Olivia is not impressed.

"Yes. She is also the sole winner of the Two Billion Dollar Lottery Extravaganza. But she did not claim her prize until nine months later with no explanation as to why. Huck, we need to know what she was doing during that time—" Huck's fingers are already dancing across his computer's keyboard. "—and where the money is now."

"I'm on it."

"Is she our client?" Quinn interrupts.

"No. Quinn, we need to find out why she came to Washington." Quinn interrupts again.

"She said in her press conference that she wanted to meet—"

"She lied. She already knows the President. Marcus, find out everything about that. About their relationship." Now he is even more skeptical.

"Liv, why are we investigating her?"

"Because she is our enemy."

Scene 6

Rebecca finishes up the table setting for dinner, when her intercom buzzes.

"Ms. Gibson?" The crackling voice on the other end says, "There is someone here to see you. It's, it's the—" She giggles and presses the button.

"I know who it is. Send him up please."

She opens the door and is surprised to see Fitz not only with multiple Secret Service agents, but also dressed in his usual Presidential suit and tie.

"Why so formal, Mr. President?" she teases.

"I just finished up at the White House, and I wanted to get here as soon as possible. We have a lot of catching up to do." She doesn't appreciate the leeriness in his tone, but she knows she can straighten that out later.

"The Terminators are not staying here, are they? Right outside the door?"

"They have to."

She shakes her head in disbelief and shuts the door. He looks around the living room, which is decorated immaculately, and surprisingly for a newly-minted billionaire, not expensively.

"This place is fantastic." She sees that his eyes have stopped on an out-of-place, rusty file cabinet, so she distracts him.

"It's better than the stuffy, old White House. Come on, dinner's ready."

Scene 7

Rebecca watches with pride as Fitz cleans the last of the food off of his plate. He licks his finger and realizes that she is staring at him.

"What?"

"Don't they feed you at the prison?"

He laughs, "Not like this. Remember the time your mother almost caught us up in the attic?"

"And you hid behind that antique armoire?"

"You hid inside of it!"

They have been reminiscing and laughing like this all evening long, and he has tried his best to be as flirtatious as possible.

"I also remember what we did after she left the room." He touches her hand, but she does not respond in the way he expects.

"Why did you do this to yourself, Fitzgerald? Why become President?" He knows that she wants a real answer and not a joke.

"I don't know anymore." It was now time for the real questions to be answered. This is only the first one, and he dreads the inevitable one.

"I don't know if it was my father and his failed aspirations. Or Mellie and her need to be First Lady at all costs. Or Cyrus and his drive to put someone in that office who would give him power. Or Olivia and her—" He stops himself and polishes off the rest of the scotch in his glass.

"Or any number of the politicians and corporations and government entities who just wanted—" He looks up at her and is taken aback by the look on her face. He expected her to be angry, or at least stoic, but instead she is smiling at him.

He laughs, "I sound like an idiot, don't I?"

"No. But you didn't answer my question, Fitzy. Why did you do this to yourself? Why did you do this to us? Why did you leave me?"

And there it is. She continues to smile at him, but he knows she wants an answer, and she deserves one.

Scene 8

31 Years Ago. Oxford University, England.

A sea of caps and gowns and proud parents are all Fitz can see from the side of the stage where he waits to hear his name called to step out and receive his degree. He can make out his mother and father in some seats near the aisle, but his eyes are searching for someone else.

"Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III."

Fitz accepts his paper and looks out at his parents. His mother stands and cheers, but the elder Grant gives his son a quick wave before checking his watch. Disappointed that even this achievement is not enough, Fitz hopes that his announcement this evening will make his father proud.

Back at their hotel room, Fitz and his parents celebrate his graduation, when there is a knock at the door.

"Dad? Can I talk to you?" Big Jerry checks his watch.

"What is it, Fitz? I'm going to have to cut this rodeo short. You know I have a plane to catch."

"Please, Dad. Can you wait in the other room? It's important." Big Jerry knocks back another drink as Fitz runs to answer the door.

Fifteen minutes later, all hell breaks loose as Big Jerry throws a tumbler glass at Fitz and barely misses hitting a terrified Rebecca.

"Over my dead body!"

"But Rebecca and I are in love!" Fitz grabs her hand and holds her close. Big Jerry looks repulsed at the sight of his only child clinging onto someone he has no business being with.

"She's the maid's daughter! You don't marry a girl like that!" He points at her in disgust and spots the ring.

"What the hell are you doing wearing my grandmother's ring?!" He charges up to her, and she hides behind Fitz.

"Take it off! Or I swear I'll break your finger off to get it!" He grabs for her hand, and Fitz shoves him away.

"Don't you touch her!" Big Jerry, already hopped up on too much liquor and hatred, grabs his son by the throat and hurls him across the room.

"No!" Rebecca yanks off her engagement ring.

"Here!" She tosses it on a table in the opposite direction from where Fitz has landed and rushes over to him. Big Jerry picks up the ring. The realization of what he has just done quickly sobers him up.

"You are never to see my son again," he states, pointing at her. "And you are never allowed in my home again. You and your mother."

She starts to cry, and he ignores her.

"Get up, Fitz. You're coming on that plane with me, and you are never to speak of this again. Is that understood?"

Fitz gets up and does not answer his father, but he does not go to comfort Rebecca either. He just stands there watching her cry until the slap across his face jolts his attention back to Big Jerry.

"Is that understood?!"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. This party's over. Go pack your things." Fitz heads for the door with his head hung low, and she grabs his hand.

"Fitzy, no! What are you doing? We're supposed to love each other!" Big Jerry hears this, and his fury starts to grow again.

"Do what you're told, Fitz!"

"I'm sorry, Becky." Fitz pulls away from her.

"Don't leave me, Fitzgerald." He turns to face her before exiting and mouths the words "I love you."

Scene 9

Fitz's face is buried in his next glass of scotch. He has already called himself a coward to one woman he loved. He doesn't want to do it again to the first one.

"You know the answer. Do you have to make me say it?"

There is so much pain in his eyes when he finally looks at her that she cannot bear it. Interrogating him was the wrong choice. She quickly changes the subject to something she knows he will enjoy.

"You want to listen to some music?"

He smiles, "Sure, what have you got?" She searches for a particular song on her computer.

"Remember when we used to make up dances to songs?"

"Of course. What was that one with—" Before he can finish his question, the opening funky bass line from "Thank You (Fallentime Be Mice Self Agin)" by Sly And The Family Stone blasts from the speakers.

"Yes, this!" he exclaims. "I haven't heard this in years!"

"Do you remember the dance?"

"Do I remember? Step aside, lady."

Fitz does a perfectly choreographed dance to the rhythm of the song. When it reaches the chorus, Rebecca joins him, and they move around the floor in unison. They laugh and sing and jump around and miss a few steps and playfully correct each other.

"We went to the left first, then to the right."

"No, that's when we do the spin."

By the end of the song, they hold each other close. He leans in to kiss her, but she stops him.

"I don't want you to think this is the only reason why I invited you here. We should talk about this." He hasn't heard a word she just said. He's on auto-pilot.

"I want you, Becky. Right now." He forcefully pulls her up next to him, and she shoves him away.

"Fitzgerald! What is wrong with you?" He is insulted and speaks to her sarcastically.

"What? You don't want me?"

"I don't know you. What happened to the man I loved?" He takes a step back and reminds himself, This is not Olivia.

"Becky, I'm so sorry."

"No! I don't know what kind of he-man, chest-thumping crap your side chick liked, but that is not how we are with each other. Why would you act like that, Fitzgerald? Have you been President for so long that you just believe that you can take whatever you want and everyone is supposed to do what you tell them to do?!" He is hurt by her words and turns spiteful.

"That's right! They're supposed to do what I say."

"And what are you supposed to do?"

"What?"

"You heard me. What are you supposed to do for people? Because if I recall correctly we made a promise to each other that we would do two things for the rest of our lives, and the first one was to help people. I kept my end of the bargain. I became a nurse."

He laughs out loud, "I am the President of the United States! How do I not help people?"

"Take a look in there," she points to the old file cabinet. He opens up one of the middle drawers. Inside are folders full of magazine articles and newspaper clippings about only one subject—him.

"They're all in chronological order, so don't take anything out. I've followed your career since before you ran for governor, and there's an awful lot not to be proud of in there. But I know you, Fitzy, and I know you could have done better. When they build your Presidential Library, I'm donating the entire cabinet. Except for the very first thing in the top drawer."

Fitz is impressed and curious. He opens the drawer and pulls out a large, worn out scrapbook.

"Is this what I think this is?"

"You know what that is." He carefully unties the ribbon that holds it shut and is overwhelmed by the contents—all of their childhood drawings.

"You saved this?"

"We said we would. So when we were older, we could look back and know where our love came from."

He stares at the paper on top. It is a child's drawing of Fitz and Rebecca holding hands in front of a house with the words "HELP PEOPLE AND LOVE EACH OTHER" written above. She steps up to him and puts her arms around him.

"We don't take from each other, Fitzy. We always give our love to each other." She reaches up to him and strokes his face.

"That's who we are." She moves her hands down the front of his shirt.

"Don't you remember?" He nods his head, and she pulls at the button on his shirt that sits above his waistline.

"I remember, too." She unbuttons it.

"I remember everything." She unbuttons the one above it.

"I remember everything you like." He is not sure if he should touch her, so all he can do is enjoy his growing arousal and remind himself again, This is not Olivia.

"I came to Washington for you, Fitzgerald." She slides her fingers under the buttons, gliding through the hair on his stomach.

"I came here for us." She stops at a specific spot and rubs it in a specific way.

Fitz shudders under her touch. No other woman has ever known that spot, and he knows now that no other woman ever will.

Rebecca slowly unbuttons the rest of his shirt, and Fitz just as carefully undresses her. He turns her around and unzips her dress as he kisses the back of her neck and shoulders. He lets her dress fall to the floor and watches her turn back around to face him.

Even standing there in a full slip, this middle-aged woman that he loved so long ago is a sight for him to behold. He leans in and kisses her, holding her closer and closer until they have to stop. She takes his hand and shows him to the bedroom.

Rebecca wastes no time and leans back in the bed. She spreads open for him and beckons, "Come home, Fitzgerald."

He pounces on top of her, and then quickly reminds himself, This is not Olivia. It is a thought that will never cross his mind again.

Fitz goes inside Rebecca for the first time in over thirty years. She gasps in sheer delight and playfully says, "Houston, we have re-entry!"

He lets out a loud laugh and stares down at her with a love in his eyes that she instantly recognizes. He has yet to move as a tsunami of memories and emotions come flooding back to him. He remembers their laughter and the way they teased each other. But most of all, he remembers how perfectly they fit together.

"I've missed you so much, Becky."

She leans up to his ear and whispers, "Prove it."

He gives her a deep kiss and spends the rest of the night following those instructions.

Episode 2: My Father's Daughter

Scene 1

Rebecca wakes up the next morning to find Fitz right next to her with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Are you watching me sleep?"

"Mm-hmm. I used to love watching you sleep. You always looked so peaceful."

"And now?"

"You look beautiful." He kisses her. She sits up and pats her thigh.

"Come here." He scoots over and rests his head in her lap. Before he can say anything, she begins to run her fingers through his hair.

He happily moans, "You remember this?"

"I told you. I remember everything you like." He reaches up and caresses her face. He tries to fight the sadness that suddenly overtakes him by changing the subject.

"So how does it feel to have all that money?"

"I don't feel any different." She knows that he's not really asking about the money and brings him back to where she wants his mind to be.

"The money was a way to get back to you. Not a penny of it would have mattered to me if we couldn't be together again. I've always loved you, Fitzgerald. I never stopped loving you." She kisses him and continues to massage his scalp as his eyes well up in tears.

"You're too good for me, Becky. I don't deserve you. Not anymore." She stops for a moment.

"What are you talking about?"

"I've done terrible things. So many terrible things." He is almost inconsolable now, so she resumes with the massage, rubbing his head in circular patterns.

"You really think that you don't deserve happiness? What happened to the beautiful boy I fell in love with?" He turns his head away, but she turns him back to face her.

"What did they do to you? Tell me everything."

Fitz looks up at her and decides to do just that. He starts at where he perceives to be the beginning of his descent into hell—his decision to leave her. Hours go by as he confesses everything to Rebecca:

Joining the Navy. "He told me not to."

Remington. "I shot it down."

The arranged marriage to Mellie. "My father practically bought her."

Defiance. "They rigged the voting machines."

Verna's murder. "I suffocated her."

Rowan and B613. "He's her father."

The attempted suicide. "Feeling that pain made me understand how much I hurt you."

Jerry's murder. "It was my most trusted agent."

The war in West Angola. "All those soldiers killed."

Cyrus' dirty deeds. "He's ruthless."

And mostly, the affair with Olivia.

The campaign. "We were around each other all the time."

Vermont. "I built a house for her."

The abortion. "There was no coming back from that."

Everything that brought them together. "She reminded me of you. At first."

And everything that tore them apart. "I thought she was the love of my life."

As he tells every sordid detail, the weight in his shoulders gets lifted more and more. He looks up at her every so often and sees that her expression never changes. She never says a word and continues to run her fingers through his hair. When he finishes talking, she smiles at him.

"Now don't you feel better?" He smiles back at her and nods his freshly-cleared head.

"Fitzy, everything you just told me was because of other people. Your father. Your wife. Your mistress. Your Chief of Staff. All these people who made you into something you were never supposed to be." She lifts his head up off her lap, and they now sit face to face.

"But your Presidency. This thing that you never wanted. This thing that you were so easily ready to walk away from. This thing that caused you to do so much harm. It's ending soon. And everything that's mentioned in that file cabinet in my living room is not going to be your legacy."

She grabs his hands and whispers conspiratorially, "What promise did we make all those years ago?"

"To help people and love each other."

"Well, we've got the latter part taken care of now. But think about it, Fitzgerald. How much good can an ex-President and a nurse with two billion dollars do for this world? How many people could we help? The moment you walk out that White House gate for the last time, that's when your legacy begins. That's when the real Fitzgerald Grant begins."

Scene 2

47 Years Ago. Santa Barbara, CA.

Fitz and Rebecca are on the floor of his bedroom with papers and crayons scattered all around. They both draw on the same big sheet of paper—Fitz on the left and Rebecca on the right. And they both draw the same thing—themselves—his with a jet plane and hers with a hospital.

"I'm finished," she announces triumphantly.

"You're not finished. You have to write your name on top." She takes her crayon and slowly forms the letter "B". An impatient Fitz grabs at her crayon.

"Let me help you."

"No, Fitzgerald! I know how to write my name. You write your own name." He quickly writes "JERRY" on his side of the paper, while she only finishes up the "C".

"Ugh!" he exclaims, exasperated. "You're taking forever. See, I'm done." She looks at what he has written.

"That's not your name. Your name is Fitzgerald."

"Everybody calls me Jerry except for you. Why don't you call me Jerry like everybody else does?"

"I'm not everybody else. And Jerry is your daddy's name. You shouldn't have his name because he's mean."

"He's mean to you?"

"Your daddy doesn't talk to me. But he's mean to you."

He looks down at his name and quietly says, "Sometimes."

She finishes the "Y" and looks up at him. There are tears forming in his eyes. He turns to wipe them away and changes the subject.

"Becky, why don't you have a daddy?"

"My mommy says I don't need a daddy. She says I'm going to grow up to be a big, strong, smart lady, and I won't ever miss not having a daddy. And you're going to grow up, too, Fitzgerald. That's why you shouldn't let anybody call you 'Little Jerry' because you're going to be a big, strong, smart man."

He smiles at her and draws a line through his name. She takes the crayon from his hand and writes the letters "F" "I" "T" and "Z" above.

"That's what you should be called."

"Children! It's time for lunch," Rebecca's mother yells from downstairs.

"Coming, Mommy!" She leaps up.

"I'll race you. Fitzy." She dashes out the room.

Fitz stays behind and picks up a red crayon. He draws an arrow from his name to her name and writes the word "LOVES" in capital letters on top of it. Rebecca's mother yells up to him again.

"Little Jerry! What is taking you so long?"

He stands up tall and yells out the room at the top of his lungs, "My name is Fitz!"

Scene 3

First thing Monday morning, Fitz enters the West Wing with a spring in his step that does not go unnoticed by Cyrus. All day long, his mind has been on the weekend he just spent reconnecting with his first love, and he wants to share it with someone.

He finally corners his Chief of Staff in the Oval at the end of the day. He and Cyrus have been through a lot, and he has slowly grown to trust him—to an extent. But in this regard, he is once again his Chief Confidant. As he tells him about his time together with Rebecca, Cyrus becomes increasingly uncomfortable.

"Mr. President? Is this really something you want to discuss? With me?"

Fitz chuckles, "Cy, I'm not talking specifics. I'm just saying that I had forgotten how easy and fun sex is supposed to be."

"Sir, I don't know what you expect me to say." He wants to change the subject until Fitz opens up a can of worms.

"What would you give to have James back in your life?" Cyrus puts his drink down.

"Good night, Mr. President." He gets up to leave, but Fitz steps in front of him.

"Cyrus."

"I do not talk about my husband. Ever."

"And that's how I felt about Rebecca. I refused to think about her or talk about her for thirty years because it was too painful. And now she's back! And all I can do is think about her. And all I want to do is talk about her. I still love her, and I just want to go out on the Truman and shout it for the whole world to hear!"

Cyrus looks very confused, but even more concerned.

"Fitz. You once told me— No. Actually, it was more than once. That Olivia Pope was the love of your life." Fitz isn't sure where he is going with a comment like that, but he is too happy to care.

"I love Rebecca. She was my first love, and she is the only woman I will love for the rest of my life."

"Do you plan on making this, uh, relationship public, Mr. President? Because the nicest thing the press will have to say is that you obviously have a type. And I don't want to verbalize what the Republican base is going to say."

"I don't care." He raises his arms in the air triumphantly. "I only have 95 more days to be President!"

"It matters, sir. You will still be an important member of this Party. Your contribution to Mellie's campaign is going to be crucial. Luckily that's not happening for a few more years, so we'll have plenty of time to get your Ms. Gibson up to speed on politics."

"We'll see, Cy." He slaps him on the back and zips out the Oval with the Secret Service right alongside.

"Falcon is on the move."

Scene 4

It has now been an entire month since Olivia declared war on Rebecca. Other clients have come and gone, but she enters OPA this morning fully expecting results.

"Rebecca Gibson, people. Where are we?" Marcus speaks up first.

"From what I could gather, she has had a life-long relationship with the President. And apparently, no one knew that her mother had been raped until Rebecca was born." He points to the photo of her mother up on the glass.

"Rochelle Gibson married a bricklayer by the name of Chauncey Jones—" He points to his picture. "Just a week prior to her attack. Not knowing who the father was, and the fact that abortions were illegal back then, she took her chances and had the baby."

Olivia cringes, "Go on."

"Of course, when Rebecca was born, it was obvious that she wasn't Chauncey's."

Quinn chimes in, "So instead of her dear, newlywed husband being understanding of her situation, he accused her of having an affair with a white man. Then when Rochelle confessed what really happened to her, he beat her up and tried to kill the baby. The police arrived just in time."

Olivia now stares at the photo of Rebecca and absentmindedly questions, "But how did she come to live with Fitz? I mean, the Grants."

Marcus ignores her slip up and explains, "The Grants felt guilty. At least the President's mother did. She believed that it never would have happened if Rochelle had not been waiting at the bus stop. She convinced Big Jerry that it would be best for Rochelle to stay on as a live-in maid and raise Rebecca there."

"This is tragic. But she made a joke about it. There has to be something more. Quinn?"

"She arrived in Washington ten months ago. Right after she won the lottery."

"But she didn't come forward until now. Why?"

Quinn shrugs, "It's a mystery. No one knows anything. No one at her apartment, or anyone at the restaurants or stores that she frequents. They all just say that she's a very nice lady, and that they're happy that she won the money."

"Or they were paid not to say anything," Olivia snarls. "Where are we on the money, Huck?"

"After she won, she cashed in her pension and closed out her bank accounts. But only after she paid for a one-way first class flight to Washington and the lease on an apartment in Georgetown. She took out all the cash in $100 denominations. It's impossible to know what she's done since then."

"And the jackpot?"

"She hasn't touched it." Huck points to his computer screen. "It's all there. Every penny."

"Where is it hidden?"

"It's not. It's in two separate accounts in two different banks. Divided in half with an even one billion in one account and the remainder after taxes in the other account."

"That's impossible. Nobody puts two billion dollars in the neighborhood bank!"

"They're strongly encrypted, but I think I can get into them. I just need time." Quinn rushes over.

"You can take it all? Just like with B613?"

"No. We are not taking her money," Olivia states with authority.

Huck's eyes widen, "We could have it all."

"Huck! That's not what gladiators do!" No one notices Rebecca standing in the doorway.

"Please don't steal my money. I have important plans for it all." Huck takes his fingers off the keyboard. No one knows how long she has been standing there, or what she has heard.

"Can you send your minions out for a cup of coffee, so we can talk?"

Scene 5

Olivia watches Rebecca stalk around the conference table staring at everything in judgment, especially the pictures up on the glass.

"Why are all your windows broken?" her nemesis finally asks.

"Why are you here?"

"Why are you investigating me? What do you think you're going to find? Or are you just going to make something up like you've done in the past?"

"I don't lie to my clients."

"And who's your client? Not Fitzgerald. He wouldn't ask you to do this."

"I work in the best interest of the White House and the President. And myself."

"Well, that's it now, isn't it? You never cared all those times you left him, but the moment he shows real interest in someone else—" Olivia is losing her patience.

"You don't know me, and you know nothing about my relationship with Fitz!" Rebecca lets out an unexpected laugh.

"Little girl, I know everything about you." She sits down and gets comfortable.

"You know, when I first won this money I thought I could buy whatever I wanted—a house, cars, travel the world. And being a nurse, I always believed the best thing that money could buy was excellent health care. But the best thing that money can really buy is knowledge." She leans in closer to Olivia.

"Because no matter what someone does or says, there is always someone else who knows about it. Whether it's a disgruntled employee or a security camera or a nosy neighbor, there is always someone who is willing to talk. You give someone the right amount of money, and they will tell you the information you need to know. So I know everything, and Fitzgerald told me everything else." She points to the pictures of her mother and her mother's former husband up on the glass.

"You think I don't know the same things about you? All about your mother the terrorist and your father the spy?"

"At least I have a father!" Olivia lashes out.

Rebecca leaps from the chair, but stops herself because she can hear Huck breathing in the doorway behind her.

"What did you call yourself before? A 'gladiator'? Gladiators fight to the death, don't they?" She slams her fists on the desk and points behind her.

"Why don't you send Hannibal Lecter back out for a muffin to go with his coffee, so we can see just how much of a gladiator you really are?!"

Olivia doesn't answer her and motions for Huck to stand down. Rebecca turns to leave.

"That's what I thought," she says, satisfied. "'Gladiator'. You don't even know the meaning of the word. I've held dying babies in my arms with more fight in them than you will ever hope to have." As she walks past Huck, she looks him up and down and realizes something.

"You know, you're just like them, Olivia. Your power-hungry, greedy parents. Manipulating others to do your bidding and your dirty work. Especially your father."

Olivia follows and shouts out after her, "That's right! I am my father's daughter!"

Rebecca ignores her and steps into the elevator. She realizes something else and steps back off before the doors close. Olivia and Huck steel themselves for an attack, but the only thing she raises is a finger.

"Just answer one question. When was the last time you gave him a scalp massage?"

"What?"

"You heard me. When was the last time you ran your fingers through Fitzgerald's hair and rubbed his head?" Huck looks very uncomfortable and steps away in silence.

"You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you? How can that be? It's his favorite thing in the whole wide world. It's the thing that calms him down. It's the thing that gets him up. It all depends on how it's done. And he never told you."

She steps back on the elevator and snickers, "Yeah, little girl. You're no threat at all. Carry on with your sleuthing."

Scene 6

Fitz finishes up a senatorial strategy meeting with Cyrus and Mellie and their respective aides in the Oval. He has been an extremely contented man for the past month and cannot recall the last time he had a cross word to say to his ex-wife. Even the meetings regarding her impending Presidential run have been productive and sane. He figures that now is as good a time as any to ask for a tremendous favor.

"Cy, Mellie and I need the room." She gives him a surprised look, but Cyrus defers.

"Yes, Mr. President." He gives her a sly smile as he exits.

Fitz and Mellie stare at each other in silence for a moment. He tries to figure out the best way to bring up the subject, and she has no clue as to what he wants.

"Fitz? What is it?" Instead of trying to charm her or trick her or bully her or rely on any number of the manipulating tactics they have used on each other in the past, Fitz opts for the straight-forward truth, but expects the worst.

"I'm going to marry Rebecca, and I want her to have my name. Now before you tell me that—"

"Of course, she can."

"Huh?" He is shocked.

"I never wanted Olivia Pope to have your name. Our name. Our children's name. You and I will always be a team, Fitz. But this woman is different." A look of relief washes over his face as he listens to his ex-wife praise his future wife.

"I already know that she's met the children because they can't stop talking about her. Teddy adores her, and Karen keeps calling her, 'my extra Mom'. And you'd think I'd be jealous, but it just seems wrong."

She suddenly chuckles, "When you think about it, she literally was your 'first lady', so she might as well be First Lady!" He hugs her and kisses her cheek.

"Thank you, Mellie. Anything you need for your campaign, I promise I will be there for you."

"Oh, Fitz. I'm not doing this as a bargaining chip. Besides, I'm not sure I want you to stump for me with your approval ratings." She looks at him with genuine warmth for the first time in years.

"She's a nurse, isn't she?" He nods yes.

"That explains everything. Anyone who can get Teddy to sit still for more than ten minutes and make Karen understand the horrors of promiscuous sex and get you to lay off the scotch has to be a modern day Florence Nightingale." He laughs and looks at her with a renewed pride.

"I have no doubt that you are going to be a better President than I ever was."

Scene 7

Rebecca is in her bed snuggled up next to Fitz, and she worries about how he will react to the news of her afternoon encounter with Olivia. She runs a single finger through his chest hair over and over as he checks a speech he has been working on.

When he realizes what she is doing, he stops reading.

"What are you spelling?"

"Your name."

"I'm glad I have a long name." She can only muster up a tiny smile, so he sits up and pulls her close.

"What's wrong? You only play with my chest hair when something's bothering you."

"I went to see your ex today."

"You saw Mellie today? So did I. She didn't tell me. What time did you see her?"

"Not Mellie."

He sighs heavily, "Rebecca. You have nothing to be concerned about. Olivia Pope is no longer a part of my life."

"Oh, I know that now. But she's investigating me, Fitzgerald."

"She's doing what?! I'll put a stop to that first thing—" She grabs his face.

"No. You just said she's not a part of your life, so don't allow her back in again. You don't have to go after her because she's not going to find anything. She's just being vile and calculating, and I don't want you to be poisoned by her ever again."

"I will never speak of her again." He kisses her in a way that lets her know with no uncertainty that she is the only woman who matters in his life.

"I love you. Do you think it's about time for us to finally get married?" This time she gives him a huge smile.

"What do you think?" She straddles on top of him and gives him a passionate kiss.

"Is that a 'Yes.'?" he jokes as she plants kisses all around his neck and across his chest.

"We can pick out an engagement ring tomorrow, and I'll have the staff put together a ceremony by the end of next week."

"Whoa! Oh, no, no, no! We are not getting married while you're still serving your sentence."

"But I want to be in the White House with the woman I was always supposed to be in there with."

"Fitzgerald, we were never supposed to be in the White House." He looks hurt.

"I want you to be my First Lady, even if it's just for two months. Please, Becky." She can't stand the pained look in his eyes and gives in, slightly.

"One day. We'll get married on your last day. That way it can be official." He gives her a sly smile.

"How about the day before?"

"Oh, so you're more interested in the wedding night than the wedding day." She laughs at the fixed grin on his face.

"Okay. We'll spend our wedding night in the White House. Lord help us." He kisses her, and then slides her back down to their original snuggled position. They lay there, blissfully staring into each other's eyes.

"Sing to me, Fitzy. Like you used to. Remember?" Of course, he remembers.

"You want to hear your favorite songs?"

"Mm-hmm." She holds him tighter, and he begins to sing "Darlin' Darlin' Baby (Sweet, Tender, Love)" by The O'Jays. Several songs later, he lullabies her to sleep with "Shining Star" by The Manhattans.

"Good night, my sweet baby."

Scene 8

Rebecca dreads this walk down the West Wing hallway. Not just because she's going to the Oval, but also because she has in her possession a sealed envelope containing the results from her state-of-the-art paternity test.

Without anything close to a cheek swab to use, the lab concocted some very expensive and possibly not-so-legal methods to determine who her father is. Luckily, when your fiancée is the President of the United States, you have access to any government or civilian database that you need. And when you have more money than you will ever need, you can pay any amount to keep it all private.

There is a knock on the door, and Fitz immediately knows who it is.

"Come in, Becky." She's the only one who ever knocks.

She enters and finds Fitz and Cyrus seated opposite each other with what looks like a ton of paperwork on the desk between them. Fitz gives him a look, which Cyrus recognizes as his cue to leave.

"We can finish this up later, Mr. President." He gets up to leave and greets her warmly.

"Good to see you, Ms. Gibson."

She smiles, "Have a nice day, Chief."

When he shuts the door, she nervously turns back to Fitz.

"I have it in my bag. The results." He gets up from his chair and presses his intercom button.

"No phone calls, and no one enters the Oval until I say otherwise."

"Yes, Mr. President."

Rebecca takes the envelope out of her tote bag and stares at it.

"I'm not sure I want to do this. Now I'm not sure I want to know." He comes from behind his desk.

"You don't have to. But if you want justice for your mother, I promise you I will make this man pay for what he did to her." She shakes as she opens the envelope, so Fitz holds out his hand.

"Let me deal with it." She hands him the results and sits on the couch.

"Don't let me see his name." He opens it and reads the first page. He lets out a sigh of relief.

"It says he's deceased." He looks at her disappointed expression.

"I'm sorry."

"It is what it is. Hopefully, he's rotting in hell."

"I'm sure he is." He turns the page and reads further.

"Whoever—" Whatever he was about to say is cut short by whatever he has just read. His heart starts pounding.

"No." His breathing becomes shallow, and she gets up.

"Fitzy, are you okay?" All the color rushes out of his face.

"Oh, God!" He falls to his knees. She rushes over to him, but he recoils.

"No! Don't touch me!" He looks up at her and whimpers, "You can't touch me."

He tosses the papers aside, and she picks them up. Fitz rocks back and forth on the floor.

"What have you done? You bastard! What have I done?"

Rebecca reads the papers with a puzzled look on her face until she gets to the spot where Fitz left off. And there it is in black and white.

"Father: Fitzgerald Thomas Grant II. 100% match."

Episode 3: Fitzy Bitsy Spider

Scene 1

The gut-wrenching scream sends the Secret Service and Cyrus flying back into the Oval.

"Fitzgerald, this can't be true!" Rebecca points to something on the paper, but the agents pounce on their President and pull her away.

Cyrus stands in the doorway, frozen in shock at the sight of his boss curled up on the floor in tears.

"Let go of me!" she protests and drops the DNA results as one of the agents tries to cuff her. Fitz leaps up and shoves them away.

"Don't touch her! She didn't do anything." He wipes away his tears and motions for the agents to leave.

After they shut the door, he sees Cyrus holding the papers and snatches them away.

"Mr. President, I'm no expert, but I think those documents are fake."

"That's what I was trying to tell you," she chimes in. "There's no such thing as 100% accuracy. They would never put that number as a match."

"And they look fake."

"No," she counters. "They look very legitimate." Fitz looks back and forth at them, realizing the gravity of what has just happened.

"Someone wanted me to believe that you were my sister?"

"But who would do that, sir? Who else knew—" Rebecca shoves Cyrus aside and charges to the door.

"Becky, where are you going?"

"To kill a gladiator!"

"Rebecca, no!" Fitz grabs her, and she tries to pull away. "She is not going to get away with this. I promise you. We're going to confront her. Together."

She weeps, "What kind of sick, evil person does this?" He continues to hold and comfort her, but turns his attention to Cyrus.

"You bring Olivia Pope here to the White House. Right now!"

Scene 2

"Fitz, you know me!"

"Do I?!"

Fitz stays seated on the outside of his desk as Olivia steps back. He knows his question has hurt her, and he doesn't care. She responds in full-on defense mode.

"And what about you? You told me I knew who you were. That I knew everything about you. Clearly, that wasn't the truth!"

"And you told me you could never hate me. But you murdered our child."

"And you told me there was nothing I could do that you would not forgive."

He holds up the DNA results and mockingly declares, "Clearly, I was wrong." She is beyond furious now.

"Why would I do this, Fitz? What would I have to gain? What revenge am I seeking? Am I trying to get back at you for all your re-hashed promises that you never intended to keep? Because you just wanted a younger version of her?!" She points to Rebecca, who is seated on the couch.

"I don't even know you anymore." Now it is her turn to hurt him.

"All I know is what I see in front of me. And that's you jumping from one black woman into another one and back again! Like we're your own personal ping pong game."

Rebecca sees the light go out of his eyes, so she lashes out at her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you accuse him of something like that? He doesn't even know how to think that way! But you certainly do, throwing race and age in his face. And why? Do you hate yourself that much? I bet your parents gave you that speech, didn't they? That you had to be twice as good. Am I right?" Olivia puts her hands on her hips and takes on a threatening stance.

"You really don't want to discuss parents, now do you? The two of you?" She laughs, but Rebecca fails to see the humor.

"I know the horror that I came from, and I might be the spawn of the devil himself, but how does it feel to be you? To know that the only reason for your entire existence was nothing more than a covert operation? My mother was brutally attacked, but she loved me the best she could. Your mother had a child just to cover up a lie. So she could appear to be a normal person."

"Normal is overrated."

"Well, abnormal doesn't seem to be doing you much good either, little girl." Olivia decides to ignore her and turns her attention back to him.

"Fitz, you know I didn't do this. All the years we were together—" Rebecca cuts her off.

"Oh, please! You were never 'together'. If you really wanted to be 'together', you would have let him lose the election. But you didn't want that. Because you didn't really want him, you wanted the President. You never loved Fitzgerald. You only loved what you're standing on." She points to the Presidential Seal.

"And you made the decision to become—" She turns to Fitz and asks, "What does Mellie always call her?" She remembers and snaps her fingers.

"A whore! That was your biggest mistake. You never should have gone into that hotel room and become his mistress. Because if you really knew him the way you claim, you would have known that he would have loved you even more for not burdening him with that guilt." She shakes her head and laughs in her face.

"You are an immature fool. He would have loved you from afar to a degree that you could not even imagine being possible. You could have confessed your attraction to each other, and flirted inappropriately, and kissed whenever you were positive no one was watching. Until that one day, when he would finally be yours." Olivia knows she is right, but hides it well.

"Just because he told you about our relationship doesn't mean you know what we had. You don't know us."

Fitz counters, "You told me there was no 'us'."

"Fitz?" Now she can't hide her disappointment and reaches out to him, but Rebecca stops her by jumping in front of him.

"Don't you touch him. You are a disease to him, and you don't get to poison him anymore." He holds her shoulders, partially to show Olivia where his loyalty is, and partially to keep Rebecca from lunging at her as she continues her tirade.

"He gave you his heart, and you never cherished it, and you never nurtured it. You chewed it up and spat it back out. And he picked up the pieces, put them back together, and he gave you his heart again. Over and over. Have you ever stopped to think about what kind of strength it took for him to love you that unconditionally? Where do you think the depths of his devotion to you came from? You think he just pulled it out of a hat?!" She looks like she is about to cry, but keeps it together for his sake.

"He was able to love you because he loved me first. Because despite who are fathers were, Fitzy and I taught each other how to love."

"I swear, if I hear you call him 'Fitzy' one more time," Olivia spews out in disgust.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does that bother you?" Rebecca's voice drips with sarcasm. "Then I'll just call him by his other name." She grabs his hand and holds him close.

"'Mine'."

Fitz hands the DNA results to Olivia and plainly states, "You say you didn't do this. Then find out who did." She stuffs the folder in her purse and sashays out the Oval.

Scene 3

Olivia stands in front of everything posted on the windows at OPA. There are far more pictures up there now and paperwork all over the conference table.

She has been on edge since she acquired this special case, and her staff has noticed. They know this is not a case of determining paternity. It is a case of determining someone's guilt and Olivia's innocence.

They are all out on various assignments, which is a relief to the person who just walked through the door.

"Liv? How are you?" Abby sweetly asks, but she doesn't answer.

"Liv?!" Olivia spins around, startled.

"Abby? I'm really busy. What do you need?"

"I know. That's what I'm here about. You need to stop looking into Rebecca Gibson."

"I'm not."

"Really, Olivia? Then what's all of this?" She points to the window, and Olivia slams a folder down on the table.

"Abby! I said OPA is not investigating her."

"Liv, I get it. I was there, remember? All those things she said. I saw the look on your face. They were the same things he said to you, weren't they?"

"Yes," she barely answers. "But this is not about that."

Abby won't budge, and Olivia knows that she will not leave without an explanation.

"The President and Rebecca Gibson are my clients."

"What?! Well, what's going on? I want to help."

"I can't tell you." And there it is. The one way she has always hurt Abby, by shutting her out.

"Of course, you can't." She turns to leave.

"Abby, please. It's a personal matter, and my reputation is at stake. Someone may even be trying to frame me." Abby tosses her purse down in a chair and rushes to her side.

"All the more reason to let me in. Once a gladiator, always a gladiator." She looks up at the window and spots the picture of Big Jerry next to the one of Rebecca.

"Why is the President's father—" It never takes long for her to put two and two together. "Oh, my God! Olivia, you have to tell the President! He can't be with—"

"Big Jerry is not her father. Fitz knows that. But someone wanted him to believe that he was, and the first person he accused was me."

"What?! That's impossible. He knows you would never do that."

"Does he? Because only a few months ago, I didn't know about another woman that he had already planned our life with before he met me!" She looks like she is about to cry, so Abby tries to hug her, but she backs away.

"No, I'm okay. This is going to be handled. In fact, I believe she may have done this herself."

"No way!"

"Abby. She allows Fitz to look at these results that she claims she never looked at first? And when Cyrus saw the papers, he was the one who realized they were falsified? It's all too convenient. I'm sorry, but you can't help. You still work for the White House. You can't be involved. You can't know any of this."

"I understand."

"I can't wait until you're out of there and back here where you belong," Olivia smiles at her warmly.

Abby cringes, and then blurts out, "I'm not coming back to OPA. The President and Rebecca have offered me a great job."

"Oh, she's 'Rebecca' now?"

"Yes. She's actually a wonderful person, Liv, and she makes the President happy. They walk through the West Wing holding hands. And they have these extraordinary plans. They want—"

"I don't care about any of that! All I care about is clearing my name."

"You don't get it, Liv. When I used to walk to the Oval when you were there, all I would hear was yelling and accusations. When I walk to the Oval now, all I hear is laughter and music and singing."

"Singing?"

"Yes. He sings to her. And he sounds really good. He put a stereo in the Oval last week. This constant stream of 70's R&B. I even caught Cyrus tapping his feet to The Spinners." Olivia chuckles, despite not wanting to, and Abby sees it as a chance to tell her what she really came to say.

"They're getting married, Olivia." She waits for a reaction, but there is none yet. "I wanted you to hear it first before it goes public."

"He never sang to me," Olivia says more to herself than aloud. She grabs up a folder and rifles through it.

"He was going to marry me, too, remember? There has to be something I'm missing."

"Liv!"

"No! You don't get it, Abby! If I don't find out that this woman set me up, if I don't find something wrong with her, some ulterior motive for wanting to be with the President, then it means Mellie was right. That I was just a substitute. And that Fitz never really loved me."

"You're a Rebeccabot." She realizes too late that she just said that out loud.

"What?"

"Nothing. Look, Liv—" Olivia grabs up another file and turns her back on her best friend.

Abby leaves the offices of OPA, determined now to accept the President's job offer. As she enters the elevator, she hears Olivia call out to her.

"Abby, wait! You were right!" She grabs the door before it closes. "It's not about what's in these papers. It's about who saw them."

Scene 4

It is nighttime in the West Wing, but Fitz has yet to leave the Oval. It is the first time in months since he has stayed so late, and with only one week left to his Presidency, it is equally surprising that he would schedule this one-on-one meeting with his Chief of Staff.

Cyrus enters and cheerfully states, "Good evening, Mr. President." He goes over to the couch, but Fitz stops him.

"Don't sit." Cyrus looks up at his boss, expecting a joke or anecdote, but sees the fire in Fitz's eyes and steels himself for the worst.

"I just want to know why, Cyrus."

He follows his immediate instinct and feigns, "Sir? I don't know—" Fitz's holler engulfs the Oval.

"Do not lie to me!" As his anger grows, he steps closer and closer to Cyrus.

"Why would you do this? Is it because of Mellie? Because you still resent the fact that I endorsed her for Senate—and ultimately this office—instead of you?" Cyrus backs away and tries to explain himself as rapidly as he can.

"You were never supposed to see those results. Damned messenger service! She wasn't supposed to go to the lab and pick them up herself. She wasn't supposed to bring them to you." Fitz grabs him by the collar.

"So you did do this to hurt Rebecca!"

"Fitz, I apologize. Only she was supposed to see it. She was supposed to be out of your life. But when I saw you on the floor, I ju—" Fitz squeezes his throat as Cyrus yanks at his hands, trying to pull him off.

"I could kill you. Right here. And no one would blink an eye. There is no one who would miss you."

Cyrus chokes out the words, "My daughter." But Fitz is locked in a rage.

"Better yet, I should have a B613 agent do it. Like the ones you hire to freelance for you. Like when you murdered Amanda Tanner. Or when you tried to drop a bomb on Liv!" He lets go and shoves him to the floor.

"I know it all now. That's one of the great things about having a billionaire girlfriend. She can find out anything about anyone, and I know everything about you. Every back room deal, every illegal—" Cyrus leaps back up.

"How else was I supposed to run this country?!"

"I am the President! I run this country!"

"You?!" Cyrus laughs maniacally. "You couldn't run an outpost of Siberia without me! Don't play innocent, Mr. President. You already know what I am, and what I've done. And I know what you've done. So before you make any grand gestures of firing me—again—you stop and think—"

"No! You stop and think! Where are you going to be in a week? Once I leave this office, what are you going to do? You think you're going to work for Mellie and do it all over again with the next President Grant? She would cut you off like a wart if she even suspected you were doing half the things I let you get away with. Because the only power you ever had was the power I allowed you to have!" He steps right up to his face.

"Becky has nothing to do with politics. She wouldn't even dream of hurting anyone. She—"

"She makes you happy! And you are not effective when you are happy." Fitz steps back from him. This is the second time his abilities have been insulted by someone he once cared about. Cyrus knows he no longer has any reason to bite his tongue with his President, so he lets the venom fly.

"I thought you were hopeless when it came to Olivia Pope. But this puppy love romance is on a stratospheric next level, even for you! These were your last 100 days, and you wasted them. This was supposed to be the time of executive orders and last minute pardons that would say screw you to anyone who ever double-crossed us and didn't play ball with this administration. This was the time to wield ultimate power! And you spent it leaving the Oval early every day to be with her, and picking out your tuxedo like some schoolboy going to the prom!"

"You tried to destroy the only woman who ever truly loved me because you wanted to control me?" Fitz does not wait for an answer and picks up a familiar wooden box sitting on his desk. He shoves it at him and speaks so softly that he actually terrifies Cyrus for the first time during this long-overdue argument.

"The only reason why you're not being carried out of here in a body bag is because I promised the love of my life that there would be no more killing."

"Mr. President, please," Cyrus pleads. "Everything I have ever done—good and evil—has been in service to the republic. In service to my President. In service to you." He looks down at the box that is now in his own hands and recognizes it as the antique gun that was a present from father to son.

"That's it," Fitz smirks. "You once told me that I would end up blowing my brains out with that pistol. Well, I don't need it anymore. But I'm sure you will. So you take it as a parting gift for all the service that you provided. To no one but yourself."

He opens the door and spews, "You don't ever speak to me again, Cyrus Beene. Get out."

Scene 5

David Rosen stands in front of a formally dressed Fitz and Rebecca.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

They kiss sweetly, and a lone familiar voice squeakily cheers, "Yay! I love weddings."

Vice-President Susan Ross is the official witness—and the only other attendee—to the blessed event that has just taken place in the office of the Attorney General. They barely part lips before Susan is off on a tangent.

"It is so wonderful the way the two of you decided to go 'low key' with the ceremony. I mean you could have done this in the Rose Garden with reporters and televised it all over the world, but instead you kept it tiny and intimate with just the two of you, and— Oh, my! I should be calling you 'Madam First Lady'. I am so sorry. Did I say thank you for choosing me to be your witness? I mean you could have gotten anybody. And I love your dress! It is so beautiful and— You are going to take pictures, aren't you? You have to have pictures, Mr. President. You have to commemorate— Ooh! My new cell phone has one of those cameras that takes the pictures where it looks like they're moving and—" Fitz finally cuts her off.

"We're going to have the White House photographer take some shots." He turns to David. "We'd love to have you both in them. You are the wedding party after all."

David smiles proudly, "We would be honored, Mr. President."

Scene 6

Fitz enters the Oval, still wearing his tuxedo. He hurries over to his desk to grab something out of the top drawer and almost misses seeing Olivia seated in a corner chair.

"Hi."

"Liv? What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see the Oval one last time."

"Why? Are you quitting politics?" he asks jokingly. "You'll be back in this office strutting your stuff again in no time. Probably with Mellie." He meant it as a compliment, but she takes it as an insult and changes the subject.

"I heard you got married today. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"You kept it private. That was the right thing to do. Have everyone think that you're dressed up to attend some function. The world probably won't find out until late tomorrow."

"You found out."

"That's my job. Finding things out."

"And thank you for finding out about that other thing. And for keeping it private. I know it couldn't have been easy to betray your mentor." He steps closer to her.

"Cyrus stopped being my mentor a long time ago. What he did was horrific, and it had to be handled. But no matter what he did, he always thought he was doing the right thing. He introduced me to you. That was the right thing." She gets up and walks over to him.

They are now face-to-face, alone in the Oval. Just like they have been countless times before.

"Livvie? Did you ever really love me? Please tell me the truth. What does it matter now?"

"Yes, I did love you, Fitz. In some way. In my own way."

"I need you to know that I fell in love with you, Liv. You were never a replacement. And you are no one's substitute." He smiles at her, and she takes it as a cue to start with the flirtations that have always worked in the past.

"So you're unavailable again." She steps up close to him. "I like it when you're unavailable, Fitz."

He grabs hold of her arms.

"I'm not unavailable." She reaches up to kiss him, but he stops her. "I'm really married."

She lets go of him, but he leans in to give her a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Goodbye, Olivia. Thank you for letting me love you."

He turns to leave and is not surprised to see his bride standing in the doorway.

"Did you find them, Fitzy?"

"Yes, baby." He jingles something in his hand.

"I have to get used to carrying keys again." He grabs his wife's hand and never looks back.

"House keys, car keys." They both laugh, and leave Olivia alone in the Oval. When the door shuts, she breaks down and sobs uncontrollably, tears falling all over the Presidential Seal.

Scene 7

As promised, Fitz and Rebecca spend their wedding night as their one and only evening together in the White House. More specifically, in the President's bedroom. In the same bed he shared with Mellie and Olivia and the Oliviabots. This time around, there is a new mattress and box spring to go along with his new wife and his new life.

"I love you, Mrs. Grant."

"I love you, Mr. Grant." She runs her fingers through his chest hair.

"What's wrong?"

"I heard what she said to you today. When she tried to—"

"I'm sorry, Becky." She grabs his face.

"You don't ever apologize to me for having loved someone else. You married me. The only thing I've wondered is, if you loved her, why didn't you tell her about this?" She reaches up and starts massaging his temple.

"Or this?" She reaches down with her other hand to that spot on his stomach. He grabs her hands and holds them still.

"Because I never wanted any other woman to touch me the way that you touch me." He gives her a full, committed kiss, and then stares at her, spellbound.

"Because some things are only for you." His deep voice suddenly fills with lust.

"Lay on your stomach."

She laughs, "What?" He flips her over and gets on top of her.

"Don't move."

She laughs even harder, "Fitzy, what are you doing?"

He leans down and whispers in her ear, "I remember everything you like, too."

He slides the sheet down to just below her waist, and now she knows exactly what she is being prepared for.

"Mmm, Fitzy." He pulls her negligee up and off, exposing her bare back.

"Only for you." He slides the bottom of the sheet up to expose her legs. He waits for a moment, and then demonstratively wiggles his fingers in front of her face.

"The Fitzy Bitsy Spider is going to climb up the water spout."

She giggles, and he begins to kiss and lick and nibble the back of her neck. He moves the kisses slowly down her spine, and her laughter turns to moans of pleasure. When he reaches her waist, he stops and runs his fingertips up and down her back like a spider. He changes the speed and pressure according to her reactions.

Once he hears that her breathing has reached a particular rhythm, he moves down to the edge of the bed and does the same thing to her calves and thighs, switching from leg to leg. When his mouth and fingers reach the top of her thighs, he stops and waits for her response.

"Oh, Fitzgerald," she appreciatively moans, and he slides under the sheet.

Scene 8

It is the day after Inauguration Day, and a new administration has entered the White House, bringing with it a whole new batch of potential clients for OPA. Olivia and her team are hard at work studying up on all the crooks, adulterers, liars and murderers who will likely come through her door with problems that will need to be fixed.

"Liv!" Marcus yells out from the conference room.

Olivia rushes in from her office to find her associates standing in front of four large gift boxes with each of their names on them. Huck points to the one closest to her.

"That one's yours."

"What is this?"

"A courier service delivered them," Quinn says and checks the label on her own box. "They're from Rebecca Grant."

Olivia rips the wrapping paper off and opens her gift box. She pulls out a plastic chest plate and a toy sword and shield. She wants to be furious, but she can only appreciate her former adversary's inventive prank.

She looks up at the others to see that they have already opened their boxes. They each have the same contents: a pair of black rubber gloves and matching boots, silver-framed circular goggles and a pair of denim overalls.

"How does she know my size?" Quinn asks, looking at her tag.

Huck strokes the fabric and mumbles, "I like them. They're soft." His eyes widen. "And they're efficient for putting on and taking off."

Marcus dangles his overalls in the air and complains, "Do we really have to wear these? Because I'll quit."

Olivia realizes what their costumes are and laughs harder and louder than she has in months.

"Touché, Rebecca."

A noise from the elevator startles everyone, and they look down the hallway to see a workman dragging a large ladder. Olivia stops him at the doorway.

"Excuse me? Who are you?"

"I'm Joe. You got a service elevator? My guys got a lot of equipment to bring up."

"Okay, Joe. I'm Olivia. Why are you here?" He looks at her like she is the stupidest thing he has ever seen.

"I'm here to fix the windows. Why else would I be here?" He walks past her and goes into the conference room.

"Holy—"

"There's been a mistake, Joe."

"How long have these been like this?"

"Joe?" He steps up closer to them.

"Is that scotch tape holding them together?!"

"Joe! Who told you to come here?" He takes out a paper from his back pocket.

"Work order was authorized by a Rebecca Grant. Look, the job's already paid for, lady. You want to replace these windows or not?"

"Not, Joe." Now everyone else at OPA gets to laugh at Olivia.

"Suit yourself." He picks up his ladder and drags it back down the hallway. When he reaches the elevator, he speaks into his walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, job's cancelled." He looks back at the offices of OPA.

"I don't know, but I think we dodged a bullet here. These people are nuttier than a Snickers bar."

He watches Olivia and her team. Huck tries to see out of his goggles, Quinn and Marcus play fight with the sword and shield, and Olivia laughs at everything.

Scene 9

Fitz maneuvers his way past two moving vans, a Salvation Army truck and a sea of movers to enter his house in Vermont. He finds Rebecca in the living room seated on a brand new couch, watching TV. On the screen, he sees himself and a caption that reads, "Former President Grant Addresses U.N. General Assembly."

The din of the workmen moving furniture in and out of the house is loud enough to make Rebecca raise the volume to hear her husband's televised speech.

"Nine months ago, my wife Rebecca and I put forth this initiative with the expressed purpose of making a real attempt at ending poverty worldwide. And thanks to the generosity of millions of fortunate people, we have begun to build and fund clinics and schools and housing for billions of people who happen to be less fortunate."

Abby can be seen on the side of the screen. The personal publicist to the Grants, and all 193 United Nations representatives, applaud.

Fitz sits down next to his wife and puts his arm around her as his speech continues.

"We are ambassadors and heads of state. And one former head of state," he points to himself, which receives a roomful of laughter.

"For us, politics are a way of life. But the people that you represent, who are not in this room today, do not care about the politics. They care about their lives. Whether you were elected to your position or born into your position, or garnered your position by some other means, you are your people's leaders, and you are expected to take care of them. You are expected to help them take care of their lives." More applause and cheers.

Rebecca smiles at her husband, the one on screen and the one seated next to her.

"Why are we watching this guy?" Fitz teases.

"I like watching him. He's very handsome. In fact, I hear he's even better looking in person."

"Says who?"

"His wife. Shh. This is my favorite part." She sits on the edge of the couch to pay strict attention to the rest of his speech.

"Every human being deserves to drink clean water and eat nutritious meals. Every human being deserves to breathe fresh air and have a place of their own to call home. Every human being deserves preventive health care and medicine when they become sick. Every human being deserves an education and to pursue a career that gives them fulfillment and a decent income. Every human being deserves to be treated fairly and equally despite our infinite differences. And as my brilliant and beautiful wife has taught me, it is the duty of every human being to help people and love each other." He receives a spontaneous standing ovation.

Rebecca leans back on the couch and playfully states, "What a wonderful thing he said about his wife. He must really love her."

"Since the moment he first laid eyes on her." He kisses her and is interrupted by a mover.

"Um, excuse me, Mr. President?" Fitz turns around.

"What's your name?" Fearing he is about to be shot by the nearest Secret Service agent, the mover barely opens his mouth.

"Sam." Fitz jumps up and extends his hand.

"Hi, Sam. I'm not the President anymore. You call me Fitz." Relieved, Sam goes over some forms on his clipboard with him, while a group of political pundits on TV weigh in on Fitz's speech.

"That was the most decisive and energized Fitzgerald Grant we have ever seen."

"This initiative that he and his wife have started is a game changer. Here's a woman who won the lottery and takes a billion dollars and donates it towards starting her own charity. Then challenges every other billionaire in the world to join her."

"It's unprecedented. The former President has gone to more countries and negotiated with more world leaders than he did during his two terms in office."

"Let's talk about those donations! They have commitments from the wealthiest people in the world. If you're a billionaire, and you haven't donated the requisite amount yet, you are being humiliated and ostracized by everyone that you do business with."

"Of course, celebrities have jumped on the bandwagon, too, but I think it's the grassroots campaign that is phenomenal. It was Mrs. Grant's idea to take this 'Help People And Love Each Other' phrase and trademark it like this—" The pundit points to the T-shirt she is wearing, which is emblazoned with the letters "H" and "P" sitting above a plus sign next to a heart symbol with the letters "E" and "O" below them.

"Getting back to the former President, what does this all mean for the way he will be remembered?"

"The Grant Administration was plagued by controversy. We could sit here for hours going over all the scandals. But the Fitzgerald Grant who was President of the United States, and the Fitzgerald Grant we have seen since he left the White House, are two completely different politicians."

"Have we all really stopped to think about the impact that this man and his wife are having on this planet right now? I mean we may actually witness the end of world poverty in our lifetime."

"If he can accomplish that, Fitzgerald Grant will go down in history as the greatest ex-President this country has ever known."

Fitz picks up the remote and turns the TV off.

"That's enough of him for one day." Rebecca looks around the room.

"Are we finally alone?"

"Yes, baby." She gets up and gives him a quick kiss.

"What do you want for dinner?"

"Anything." He smiles and watches her go into the kitchen.

Scene 10

53 Years Ago. Santa Barbara, CA.

Rochelle Jones—soon to be Gibson again—sits in the expansive kitchen of the Grant mansion with her two new additions—infant daughter Rebecca and a painful black eye. Fitz dashes in with his arms outstretched, holding a toy jet plane.

"Vrooom! Vrooom!"

"Little Jerry! What did your mother tell you about running in the house, especially in the kitchen?" He stops short.

"Sorry, Miss Rochelle." He sees the baby in her arms, and his mouth goes agape.

"Don't just stand there gawking at her. Come over here and meet my daughter." He runs right up to her and stares at Rebecca from head to toe and back again.

"Her name is Rebecca. But I'm going to call her Becky for short."

"Can I play with her?"

Rochelle chuckles, "She's too little to play with." She sees that he is disappointed.

"Little Jerry, how old are you?" Fitz holds up three fingers.

"This many."

"Well, that's how many she is." His mouth opens even wider.

"She's three years old?!"

"No," she laughs. "She's three days old."

"Wow!" He smiles at Rebecca and stares at her as she falls asleep. He looks up at Rochelle to ask her another question and notices her wound.

"What's wrong with your eye?"

"Little Jerry!" He spins around to see his mother standing right behind him, looking very angry.

"You do not ask adults personal questions." Fitz isn't sure what a personal question is, so he changes the subject.

"Look, Mommy." He points to Rebecca.

"I know. Miss Rochelle and Becky are going to live with us from now on. So you will have plenty of time to see the baby." Rochelle needs to get back to work and places the baby in her bassinet.

"She's asleep now. I have some laundry to tend to." She steps up to her employer.

"Thank you again, Mrs. Grant. You and your husband. I don't know what we—" She stops her before Rochelle can say anything else that may upset them both in front of Fitz, who continues to try to get his mother's attention.

"But Mommy, look!" She finally walks over.

"What is it?" He points to the baby again.

"She's pretty." She takes a long look at Rebecca, studying her for the first time.

"She is pretty. Let's leave her alone now. Babies need lots of sleep."

"Can I watch her sleep for one minute, Mommy? Please!"

She hugs her son and says under her breath, "You're already turning into a sensitive Romeo."

"A scented what?"

"Never mind," she laughs. "One minute."

Fitz leans over the edge of the bassinet to get a better look at the baby. He turns around to make sure that his mother is gone, and then reaches in to touch her.

"Time's up, Little Jerry." He yanks his hand back out.

"Coming, Mommy!"

Fitz leans further into the bassinet and whispers, "I love you, Becky." He picks up his toy plane and "flies" out the kitchen.

Scene 11

The smell of something delicious draws Fitz to the stove. He walks right past his wife, who scrolls through her computer on the island counter top. She does not look up and repeats the phrase she always says every time he wanders into the kitchen.

"It's not ready yet." He backs away from the pots with his hands in the air. He smiles and studies Rebecca's face for a moment, while his own turns serious.

"Becky? Are you really okay with this? With living here?"

She looks up and asks, "Are you okay with it?"

"I just want you to be happy. It's not too late to sell it or—"

"Or what? Tear it down? Why? Because you built it for another woman?"

"Yes," he says, guilty. She steps up to him and puts her arms around him.

"Fitzgerald, you put this house here as a gesture of love. But for all these years, it's just been a house. It needs love inside of it to be a home. Our home. Filled with our love and our memories and our future together."

She kisses him, and he is completely consoled.

"And you can make jam!" he declares earnestly. She looks at him like he's crazy.

"Jam?! Who the hell makes jam? This is Vermont. You're supposed to make maple syrup." She shakes her head incredulously and goes back to the stove.

Fitz is shocked. He thinks for a long moment, and then laughs hysterically, "You're right!"

When his laughter subsides, she turns back around to find him staring at her in an odd way.

"What?"

"Do you know what my two favorite words are?"

"Maple syrup?" He chuckles and shakes his head no.

"Rebecca Grant."

He rushes over and gives her a desirous kiss. He lets go of her just as fast, and then searches for something on the computer.

"What are you doing, Fitzy?" He finds what he is looking for and clicks on it.

The unmistakable opening notes of "Just The Two Of Us" by Grover Washington, Jr. begin to play, and Fitz holds out his hand to her.

"I want to dance with my wife."

He takes her into his arms, and they slow dance as he sings along to the song. By the time the sensual saxophone solo comes on, they are locked together in a kiss. The music continues to waft through the entire house as Fitz and Rebecca dance the night away.

THE END