This is my imagining of Olivia's and Abby's first encounter. I based it on their character bios at and what we've seen on the show so far. This is purely fan fiction. There's no copyright infringement happening around these parts. Hear that, ABC? Enjoy!

She approached his office slowly, steadying her thoughts and composure as though she was preparing to testify before Congress. She opened the door as she knocked.

"Good afternoon, Professor Beene. I take your morning Legal Ethics course. I'm here to discuss fixing my grade."

"Uh, hello, Miss...?"

"Pope," she replied with a stern confidence. "Olivia Pope."

"Ah, yes. Miss Pope. Refresh my memory about your issue?"

"You gave me a B-minus on my last assignment when I clearly deserved an A."

"Oh? I read your paper. Twice as a matter of fact. Your arguments were sound, actually some of the best I've ever seen, but you failed to include any credible sources. I thought the B-minus was rather generous. I really should have given you an F," the professor said smugly.

"I assure you that all my sources are credible and verifiable, but they wouldn't appreciate being named in a sophomoric, academic exercise. Now, you can either give me my A, or I can have a little chat with the dean of students. Tell me something. Are you tenured yet?"

He replied unflustered, "How does a first-year law student know so much about the inner workings of the last presidential administration?"

"I read," she said flatly.

He gave her a knowing nod and smirk. "Fine. You'll get your A, and I surmise you'll still have that little chat with the dean?"

"Perhaps," she murmured flippantly.

"Ms. Pope, I'm having dinner with a few friends tonight. You're welcome to join us."

"Are you propositioning me, Professor Beene?" she asked locking her gaze on him.

"Cyrus. Call me Cyrus. And no, this isn't a proposition. You're not my type," he chuckled. "One of my good friends, Fitz Grant, is visiting from California. He's making great strides in his political pursuits, and I think you'd be a smart addition to his team."

"Thank you, but no. I'm apolitical," she said turning away with a disarming grin. "Maybe next time, Cyrus."

As she walked out of his office, a slender red-head, whose flushed face made her appear to be in need of an intervention, cornered her.

Startled, Olivia attempted to skirt past, but was stopped short.

"You're Olivia Pope. The Olivia Pope," the red-head quipped. "I hear you fix things."

With an intense glare, Olivia made the ginger one squirm uncomfortably. "And you are?"

"Abigail, but everyone calls me Abby," she said apparently flustered. "There's this guy I know. He needs fixing. He needs to 'go away,' you know? Can you make that happen?"

"I'm not sure who you think I am or what I do, but I don't fix disobedient boyfriends. I make problems and bad decisions disappear. Not people. What did he do anyway?"

"He's a whore!"

With that revelation, Olivia made an about-face and quickly walked the opposite direction.

"You are the bitch everyone warned me about!" Abby yelled.

Pivoting on her cream and tan Prada stilettos, Olivia swung back around and confronted Abby. "Be clear, Abigail! I do not mediate playground tiffs, nor do I take kindly to threats. What I do-"

"Paul Rousseau," Abby retorted.

"Excuse me?" Olivia asked, obviously annoyed at being interrupted.

"The guy I need you to pulverize, or whatever it is you do...his name is Paul Rousseau."

Olivia stood breathless, her face contorted by anger and confusion. She knew Paul. He had saved her ass many times when they worked together at a K Street lobbying firm. She pondered silently as she peered at the anguish and sadness on Abby's face.

She knew Paul. She had seen him bring potentates and politicians to their knees for crossing his path on the wrong day. She also had seen how he treated his female companions. She understood the pain behind Abby's eyes. On more than one occasion, Olivia had disarmed women who showed up at their office to exact revenge against him.

She decided she couldn't pass up the chance to halt his philandering ways. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and reassuringly said to Abby, "I'll handle it."

Abby's despair immediately faded into joy, and she embraced Olivia as though they had known each other for years. "I owe you, Liv! I owe you!" she exclaimed as she fluttered away.

Olivia thought to herself, Indeed you do, Abby, indeed you do.