"Do you ever think about it?" Fitz asked from his laid back position. They were lying on the bed in her apartment, his head on the pillows, her head using his stomach as her own personal pillow.
"Think about what?" she asked, staring at the ceiling fan, watching it rhythmically spin. Running his fingers through the ends of her long curls, he closed his eyes and spoke.
"The future. Our future. How we're going to get through this deployment. And your new job. And all of the crap with my brothers and your sisters."
She remained quiet for a few minutes, trying to gather her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she started, "It's two years. We can manage that. You'll call, and I'll write. We'll make it work. And then you'll come back to me and we'll start our lives." Her tone was almost cheerful, trying desperately to mask her insecurities, her fears, her doubts.
"Are you still mad at me?"
"I know I yelled, but I was never mad at you, Fitz. I'm upset that you're leaving, and that I won't be able to see you, or talk to you, or hold you every day. The irrational part of my brain didn't understand why you would want to leave home and go fight in a war half way across the world, a war people get seriously injured in, a war not all people come home from; but the rational part understands that we need you, that the United States of America needs you, and that I'm just being selfish." She took a deep breath and turned on her side to look him in the eyes. "But Fitz, I am so proud of you. You're brave, and selfless, and courageous, and strong. You're thoughtful and smart, and you care, you care so much. You care about everyone, not just about me, or your parents, or brothers; you care about all of the people who died on September eleventh, all of the people directly and indirectly affected. You care about the kids who lost parents, parents who lost kids; the widows, and widowers; the people who won't have their best friends on Christmas this year. And that thought, the thought of you not coming home to me, of spending a single Christmas or birthday without you, it scares me, it haunts me. You're not just my best friend; not just the person I feel most myself around. You're my hero, Fitz. And in a lot of stories, the hero dies. And everyone around is left to pick up the pieces. I can't do that. You stole a piece of my soul, and if you don't come back—" her tears began cascading down her cheeks, and he reached down to wipe them away. "If you don't come home to me, if you die, I'll die too. Maybe not physically; but emotionally, spiritually. And that's worse. Feeling like you can't breathe is worse than not breathing. You'll be gone, and I'll be all alone."
He pulled her up into his embrace, her ear pressed against his chest, listening to the familiar beat of his heart. Rhythmic and strong. They laid like that for what seemed like hours before he finally spoke, his voice full of conviction. "I will always come home to you, Olivia. I promise." He ran his fingers through her hair with one hand as he used the other to rub soothing circles along her back. "And when I come home, I'm going to get down on one knee, give you my grandmother's ring, and make up for every lost second. We'll get married and buy a big house; fill it with dozens of kids—girls with your smile and laugh, boys with my charm. They'll all have heads full of curls and piercing eyes. They'll be the most loved kids in the world. And you'll be the best mom any kid has ever wished for. And when they get old enough, we'll tell them about today."
"And we'll tell them about how courageous their father is, and how much I love him, how I can't breathe without him. And we'll teach them how to love with a whole heart. And we'll raise them to be just like you; willing to give the shirt on their back to a stranger in need; to put others first and themselves last."
"And about their brilliant mother; how I adore her and couldn't exist without her. How her smile lights up the world, and expels doubt and fear. How to be both beautiful inside and out. How I fell in love with your mind and intellect. We'll teach them to ask questions, and think independently. To be leaders, to work hard and have fun doing it."
"We'll go to soccer games, and dance recitals. You'll stay up all night in the garage helping them make those exploding volcanoes for the science fair, and I'll read them bedtime stories, and sing them lullabies."
"We'll be the crazy, dysfunctional family that everyone secretly wishes they were a part of. And we won't have the nicest things in the world, but we'll have the most important things. We'll have love, and family, and a real home."
"Promise?" she asked, looking up into his eyes. She needed him to eliminate her fears, to make her feel less vulnerable. She needed to believe in this life, that it was possible, that it could and would be achieved.
"Pinky," he said as he leaned down and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger. "I love you, Olivia Carolyn Pope. I have always loved you. And I always will love you. These two years will fly by, just you watch."
She laid her head back on his chest and closed her eyes, breathing in his scent, kissing through his sweater right above his heart. He went and got a blanket from the chair next to her bed and placed her back onto his chest. They stayed in that position all night, simply feeling comfort in each other's presence, feeling at peace, finally feeling like they were home. Slowly drifting off into the first peaceful sleep either had had in a few weeks, they dreamed of their future, their future together.