As those of you who have followed me through this website know, I finished Someplace Good and went off to college, so I could not write consistently anymore. Over last semester/beginning of summer, I have completed a shorter fic.

I hate to say that I didn't put as much effort into it as Someplace Good, but it may seemed rushed. I focused more exclusively on their relationship, rather than in Someplace Good where I had a more complex intertwining of their relationship with outer forces. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy. If you haven't read Someplace Good, then go check it out!

I'm posting all of Part 1 now, so enjoy the binge:)

Part 2 should be shortly.

Forget it-Breaking Benjamin

It's a crime you let it happen to me
Nevermind, I'll let it happen to you
Out of mind, forget it there's nothing to lose
But my mind and all the things I wanted

Olivia sat with her mentor Cyrus Beene in his office. It was the first day of the semester, and she was excited. She was working on completing her Master's degree in Journalism at Harvard, which meant she had to TA for a class. She chose to TA for a political science course, because her undergraduate degree was in that department. Being a TA was often viewed as a burden, but she didn't mind if it meant working under the brilliant Dr. Beene. Cyrus worked as a top advisor under the first Bush administration and found himself in a comfortable tenured position at the most prestigious school in the world. She had a lot to learn.

"I can tell this is going to be fun." He laughed as he digested Olivia's liberal rebuttal of his argument why conservative politics were still relevant in the 21st century. They were opposites politically, but very like-minded and skilled debaters. Mainly, they were both stubborn as hell and loved a good natured challenge. "I think we should be heading to class now."

"Lead the way." Olivia beamed, feeling something like an excited kindergartener on her first day at school.

She sat in the back of the class, observing the students as they walked in. Here were the brightest students in the world, on their way to changing the world. They were the future presidents and CEOs. She was well aware that this class was a GE requirement for a majority of them, so she somewhat enjoyed watching the diverse group walk in and claim their seats.

One student, in particular, caught her eye. He was obviously older. She tried to guess his age—He looked to be in his late twenties, maybe thirties. He strode in with an obvious ease, as he sat down right in front of her and opened his notebook, titling his page. He had a thick head of brown curls that were neatly kept. She could have sworn his eyes were a clear blue, but she wasn't certain.

Dr. Beene started the class, introducing himself and the syllabus. After running through the core principles for the class, he introduced Olivia as the TA. She stood, waving to the class. She felt his eyes bore into her, and stared intentionally at the rest of the class. She was pulled to him, and she didn't know why. She couldn't place it. She sat back and took notes on what to bring up in her discussion.

When the class wrapped up early, Olivia hung around the door, in case anyone wanted to talk. She noticed his eyes when he walked out—bright blue. Like the Miami waters that she spent her summers in visiting her grandparents. She felt heat rising to her cheeks, as he walked right past her, with prolonged eye contact. A few students stopped by her to make brief introductions.

Afterwards, she had a few minutes to spare, so she stopped by the coffee shop on her way to her internship. She immediately regretted stepping into the crowded coffee shop. Of course the place would be hectic on the first week. After waiting in a standstill line for ten minutes, she turned on her heel to leave. The next thing she knew, a scalding hot coffee was being poured down her blouse.

"Fuck." She muttered, as she looked up at the perpetrator. The same piercing blue eyes that intrigued her earlier were now staring down at her, widened with shock.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry." He apologized, reaching to a nearby table and grabbing a wad of napkins. He stared at the brown soaked shirt in a state of awkwardness, as he realized he could not simply dab the liquid off of her breasts. "Here." He held them out.

"It's fine." Olivia said with a degree of bitterness as she accepted the napkins and began to soak what she could off of her shirt.

"It's not. I'm so sorry. Let me buy your coffee for you." He glanced in embarrassment at the line that had barely budged.

"No need. I don't have time." Olivia almost cursed again. "I have a job to get to. I need to get back to my apartment to change."

"How far?" He asked with sincerity. "I can drive you. That is, if you want."

Olivia glanced at her watch. She had forty minutes, and her apartment was a solid fifteen minute walk away not including the ten minutes to change and a thirty minute commute, assuming the bus was on time. This threw a solid wrench in her plans.

"Okay." She accepted, this time, looking directly into his eyes. She had to stop herself from getting lost in them.

"Fuck." He whispered again.

She wondered the meaning for his words.

"You are my TA. Shit, what an impression to leave. Sorry, I can drive you home very quickly. I'm so sorry. My car is just on the other side of the street."

Olivia smiled politely despite her obvious irritation, following him to his car. He held the door open to his slick black BMW. A typical rich boy, she thought as he purred the engine to life.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I have properly introduced myself." He began, as he pulled his car onto the street. "I'm Fitzgerald—uh, Fitz—Grant."

"Olivia Pope." She extended her hand across the console into his. He had a solid hand shake. It lingered for a second longer than it should have. "This is it, up here." He pulled in front of her apartment building.

"I still feel awful, and I don't want you to be late. If you want, I can drive you to work."

Olivia regarded him and her watch. There was no way that she could make it to the bus stop on time. "I'll be right back."

It was four minutes before she returned in a dark, royal blue blouse as a replacement. Fitz took this time to fully notice her physical appearance. She was short and fit. Her pencil skirt fit her curves perfectly. Her hair which was a mention of curls gracefully grazing her collarbone was now pulled back into a high bun. That only accentuated her facial features. She was beautiful with round doe eyes and lips plumper than he had ever seen.

She stepped back into his car. "Sorry, that took so long."

Fitz grinned pointing at the clock, "It took you four minutes and you completely changed."

There was a moment of eye contact with nothing to say. The air grew unintentionally thick as Olivia realized just how gorgeous he was. He is your student. No, Olivia, no. She thought to herself as she cleared her throat.

"Uh, where is your work place?"

"It's the Boston Globe. Downtown. Do you know where that is?"

He nodded, pulling out into the road.

Olivia leaned back into the leather seat. "You look a little old to be in undergrad." Olivia noted. "And you don't have a Boston accent. Where are you from?"

"California. Santa Barbara, actually. I spent six years in the Air Force, which is why I am such an old man." He said with a humorous smirk. "What about you? I hear an accent, but it is certainly not from the New England."

"North Carolina." Her faint southern accent became more prominent once she acknowledged it "I have tried to mask my accent over the years. Even during my undergrad at Duke. I guess I slipped." She winked when he looked over at her.

They made small talk about the class for the fifteen minute drive to the newspaper she was interning at.

"Right here is fine." She directed as he pulled into an empty parking spot in front of her building. "Thank you, Fitzgerald."

"Fitz. Only my mother calls me by my full name." He smiled warmly. "Fitz."

"Fitz." Olivia agreed.

"It was the least I could do." He extended his hand and she placed hers in his.

"I guess I'll see you in class on Wednesday." Olivia said, quickly climbing out of his car. She felt something in the way he was looking at her. She shook her head, walking into the huge lobby. She had a straight and narrow line to follow as his TA. She couldn't delude herself to believe that his blue eyes were searching for more.

/

"Good morning, Olivia."

Olivia looked up from her textbook to see Fitz take a seat in front of her, just like the first day.

"Good morning, Fitz. You are here early."

"So are you." He turned in his seat, so he could see face her more easily. His eyes were unusually bright, as he let a lopsided smile cross his face.

"The classroom is vacant before class, and my favorite spot in the library is currently under construction, so I came here."

"How long have you been in here?"

Olivia looked at her watch. "About two hours."

Fits let out a low whistle. "That is too long. Have you even eaten breakfast?"

"No."

He abruptly got up and left, leaving her alone again. She raised an eyebrow at his odd behavior, but then went back to her studying. She still had 15 minutes until class started. The time passed quickly, and she wondered where he ran off to. The entire class was there, except for him.

Cyrus took to his podium and flipped his microphone on. He began his lecture on the core framework for analyzing politics, when Olivia felt someone sit down next to her.

"I wasn't sure what you liked, but I figured I couldn't go wrong with a blueberry muffin." He smiled as he passed her a brown bag and a coffee.

"You didn't have to…" Olivia started to refuse.

"Shh. You shouldn't be going hungry just for school." He insisted.

Olivia looked up at him, ignoring the lecture. She was glad that nobody chose to sit around them. "This feels inappropriate." She whispered.

"Then let's be inappropriate…" He whispered back, mimicking her tone. "You don't have to take it. I didn't mean anything by it." He pulled his notebook out and began dutifully taking notes on the lecture. Olivia stared at the muffin, eventually unwrapping it and pinching a small bite into her mouth. She swore that she saw him smile out of the corner of his mouth.

/

Olivia stopped by Cyrus's office to share her lesson plans for her discussion. He seemed so at home in with his feet resting on the edge of the desk and a thick notepad resting on his lap with very complex notes. He was currently writing a book as a part of his tenure, and she was positive he was one of the only people who insisted on writing his thoughts down with a pen before typing them up.

"Hey, Olivia." He moved his feet and motioned for her to have a seat. She was always noticing new things about his office. Small artifacts that had historical significance, and she couldn't wait until he shared the stories behind them.

She outlined her plans for his approval, and asked questions about how to shape the discussions. It took about thirty minutes, until she was done.

"What do you think?" He asked abruptly.

"About what?"

"Being a TA."

"So far, so good." She noted, still unsure.

"I noticed that Fitz sat down next to you last class."

"Mr. Grant?" She raised her eyebrow, wondering how they were on first name basis already.

"Mr. Grant." He nodded. "That is an interesting case. I was surprised to see him enrolled in my class."

She raised her eyebrow again, still unsure about where he was heading. He picked up on his need to elaborate more.

"Son of the infamous California governor?"

Olivia kept her confused face on. "Gerry Grant?" As it slowly rang a bell as she recalled his non-compromising plan for deporting illegal immigrants.

Cyrus nodded. "There's a bastard, if you ever met one. Fitz is his token boy. Decorated war veteran at the age of 24. It wasn't a problem for him to enroll, here of course. It isn't a secret that Big Gerry will do everything in his power to get that boy in office one day. Probably all the way to the office. God knows, he has the potential and pedigree."

"Hmm." Olivia nodded, feeling uneasy about this new information. "He had the sure air of a politician."

"I've met him before at a fundraiser. He's someone I will keep my eye on in class."

That ended the conversation, as she bid him goodbye and left his office, mulling this new information over. She couldn't get him out of her head, and she couldn't figure out why.

/

Olivia felt somewhat official in her first official office hours. Her discussion that morning went incredibly well. She wasn't expecting anyone to stop by—it was only the first week, and they had not covered any particularly difficult material yet. It just felt nice to sit in her temporary office and wait for any students.

She put on some soft Norah Jones to pass the time, as she opened her books to study. After the first thirty minutes passed, she heard a soft knock on her door.

"Are you ever not studying?" a lopsided smirk was standing in her door. He was wearing dark wash jeans and a Harvard t shirt. This was her first time she saw him in casual clothes, and she had to admit, he looked very handsome.

"I'm a busy girl." She motioned for him to come have a seat as she paused her music and stowed away her books.

"I can tell." He sat across from her and crossed his ankle across his leg. He looked so relaxed and utterly confident in his own skin.

"Something tells me you didn't stop by to discuss this week's lecture."

He had a vague twinkle in his eyes as he met her accusation. "What are your plans tonight?"

"Studying."

"As interesting as I'm sure that is, I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to Barley's tonight?"

"I have work in the morning." She smiled, politely. The college bars in the area weren't exactly appealing.

"Ah, I see." He nodded. "Being around a bunch of drunken college students isn't really your thing, is it?" There was a hidden challenge in his voice.

"I have work in the morning."

"Assuming you didn't have work in the morning…"

"Assuming I didn't…"

"Then what is your thing?"

Olivia paused, biting her lip in the process. There was something so easy going about him. "A glass of red wine."

"How about a compromise?"

"Which would be…?"

"Antonio's is a quieter bar on the other side of the city. With a considerably lesser amount of students. I'll be there with a scotch for me and a red wine for you. Show up if you want. I won't be offended if you don't." He stood, "But I hope you do."

/

"You are looking nice." Abbey sat back with an air of amused judgment in her voice. She was her roommate, a fellow graduate student. Except she was in her third year of Creative Writing. She as probably going to be a NY Times best seller in a couple years, if she actually got around to graduating

Olivia ignored her, knowing that she would continue her interrogation without any prompting.

"Is the Olivia Pope going out on a Thursday night?"

"I am." Olivia stated, matter-of-factly, as she finished slipping her heels on.

"Who is he?"

"Why do you assume it's a guy?"

"Why else would you be wearing that dress?" Abbey gave an obvious look down of her sleek black knee-length dress with an asymmetrical neckline.

Olivia stopped, giving her a knowing look. "Okay, it is a guy."

"Does he have a name?"

"Yes." She replied, knowing her secrecy would drive her insane.

"He must be some kind of man, if he is dragging you out of this apartment on a Thursday night."

"I don't know yet." Olivia replied earnestly. "I don't know about any of this yet."

"Don't overthink it." Abbey stopped her and adjusted her hair. "Just go have fun." She said with an air of pride.

/

He wasn't a liar. He was waiting for her with a glass of scotch for himself, and a glass of red wine for herself.

"Hi." Was all she said, as she took the seat next to him.

"Hi." He replied with a surprised smile. "I'm surprised you came."

"I did." She looked around at the bar. It was a nice, quiet place. Most of their patrons were probably people getting off at work at the financial district. "I like this place."

"It beats the library, doesn't it?"

"It does." She agreed as she took a sip of her wine. She was surprised by his selection. "You must know a bit about wine, to choose a '94 Chateau du Monteau."

"The bartender's selection. I'm a scotch guy." He tapped the edge of his glass.

"Then I guess I should go compliment him." She tipped her glass to his in a mock toast.

"You look beautiful." He said, letting his eyes wander down her dress.

"Thank you." She wanted to squirm under his gaze. It was electrifying. "So what is your major?" She asked, making small talk.

"I'm double majoring in economics and international relations."

"Nice. Where will that lead you?" She was expecting the answer Cyrus told her the other day, but she didn't want to tip her hand.

Surprisingly, he sighed, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in the booth. "I'm not sure. Politics seems like the obvious route."

"Is politics what you want to do?" Olivia asked quietly, curious about his sudden change in behavior.

"I don't know anymore. I want to make a change for the future generations, and all of that corny shit. The political machine just seems too corrupt and futile at times."

"There are other ways. You will find yours."

He smiled at her. "What about you? A Masters in Journalism? Are you the next Diane Sawyer? A degree in PoliSci must mean that you are on the Woodward and Bernstein route."

She laughed a melody of soft notes. "I do want to do political journalism. I like the idea of holding the government and all of those corrupt politicians accountable." She playfully poked her finger into his chest.

"So you are a nuisance?" He leaned in, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Something like that." She played along, bringing her glass to her lips for a final sip. Fitz immediately motioned for the waitress to come refill her glass.

"Oh, no." She protested, laughing embarassingly. "I am kind of a light weight, really."

"I'll make sure you get home safely." He dropped his voice, and Olivia felt herself go warm on the inside. The waitress returned with a fresh glass for both of them, and Olivia didn't reject it. Fitz hung his arm over her side of the booth. They continued drinking, both having deep seated reservations about each other, but the attraction was palpable and unstoppable.

"This Boston weather must be a jolt from Santa Barbara."

"I miss it being consistently 75 degrees every day, but I can handle the cold."

"California sounds nice. I've never been."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrow. "You would love it there. Do you like the beach?"

"I love the beach." Olivia emphasized by leaning into him. She did it before she could stop herself, but he didn't pull back. She was practically in the crook of his arm. "My grandparents live in Miami, and I love visiting them."

"I would love for you to see my parent's house out there. It is something else."

"I would like to do so." She paused, letting a smile form on her lips. "Do you know how to surf?"

A deep chuckle escaped him, "Do you think of me as nothing but a stereotype?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"No, I don't. I preferred just to swim in the ocean."

"That's a shame. I thought we would have a common interest."

"You do?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I do."

"Wow. I never would have thought—"

"That a nerd like me." She finished his sentence, jokingly.

"We both know that is not what I was going to say."

"But it is what you were thinking." She teased him, reveling in the way his ears turned red.

"When I look at you, nerd is the last thing I think of."

She was suddenly aware of their proximity to one another. His eyes zeroed in on her face. His head was bent down to address her. His compliment shone bright on his face.

"What do you think of?" She glanced down at her hand, resting lightly on his thigh. When did that get there? "When you look at me."

His eyes searched her face up and down, settling on her lips. Olivia knew she was in too deep when he tucked a finger under her chin, pulling her face upwards. Her lips parted barely, as he slowly lowered his mouth onto hers. When his lips grazed hers, she felt a flock of butterflies being released in her stomach. He showed restraint in the kiss, just softly kissing her lips. She let him remain in control of the kiss as he brought a hand to her cheek, but she couldn't stop her lips from moving with his.

"That. That is what I think of." He whispered, pulling back but still holding her face in his hand.

All she could do was breathe and stare at his beautiful features. The wine was rushed to her head and she felt a light blanket of euphoria. She remembered who they were, and why it all was so wrong. She pulled back, nervously running her hands down her dress like there were wrinkles.

"Fitz…" She whispered, still in the rapture of the feeling of his lips on hers. "I should be going. I have—"

"Work." He finished, for her.

"Yeah, that." She gathered her bag and rose. He followed, slipping a hand under her arm.

"I'll drive you home. You shouldn't be taking a bus."

"Okay." She agreed following him out of the restaurant. He opened the door for her and got behind the wheel. To say the drive back was awkward was an understatement. Olivia felt so embarrassed. She was his goddamn TA, and she let him kiss her—no—she encouraged him to kiss her. She kissed him back. Finally, he broke the silence.

"I didn't mean to cross any line back there. This was not my intention…"

Olivia remained silent for a moment, resting her chin in her hand. "You are my student." She said more to herself, than to him.

"I know. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

But I liked it, Olivia thought.

It wasn't long before he was pulling in front of her apartment. He pulled over, parking where she told him to. He opened her door for her, helping her out of the car. They stood by her car, each unknowing of what to say. Fitz looked at her lips, pressed together, and wanted nothing more than to kiss them again.

"Thank you." She clasped her hands together awkwardly.

"Don't worry about it." He smiled, patting her shoulder.

"Goodnight, Fitz." Gave him one more conflicting look before she went up to her apartment.

/

"How was it?"

Olivia rolled her eyes the second she got in her apartment. She just knew that Abbey would be waiting on her. Human interaction was the last thing she wanted at the moment.

"That bad, huh?" There was an air of amusement in her voice. "What was it? Bad breath? Did he like Nickelback or Pitbull? Married? Awful to his mother? Oh God… He wasn't a Republican, was he?"

"Drop it." Olivia went straight to her room and shut the door. She threw her body on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

He was her student. But he was so…Her student. But the way he kissed her.

Olivia groaned, throwing her head into her pillow. What was wrong with her? He was just a guy. No man could ever be worth jeopardizing her graduate degree. She had gotten this far on her own.

She let her mind wander to the way his hand felt behind her neck. How he kissed her so softly, not wanting to rush anything. He was a true man, and she could sense it in everything he did. Even his smell lingered on her.

After a couple of minutes of agony, Abbey knocked softly on her door.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm in deep, Abbey." She sat up, pulling herself together.

Abbey sat down on the edge of her bed. "How so?"

"He's my student."

/

Fitz raised his hand…again. He sighed, letting her know his unhappiness. This was his third time raising his hand—the second time he was the only one doing so—and every time Olivia didn't call on him. This had been going on for two weeks.

"Okay." Olivia said seriously. "It isn't too much to ask for you guys to read a couple pages every night. This is Harvard, after all. If you wanted to get a degree without trying, Yale is two hours away." That garnered a couple of snickers from her students.

Fitz had enough, speaking up over her. "This blind following we see stems from extended ties seen by the public. It can be observed in how Hilary Clinton carries the black vote when Bernie Sander's policies are obviously more beneficial to the demographic. It is because she is Bill Clinton's wife, and ever since he played his saxophone on the Arsenio Hall Show, he has had the black voters around his finger."

"Your argument is flawed, Mr. Grant. You ignore all of the discriminatory policies of the War on Drugs that Clinton implemented during his term. How could someone show continued support for a man that facilitated a spike in incarceration?"

"Well, that comes down to voter ignorance. If they were more informed and had better voter turnout, blips like this wouldn't exist."

"So now they are ignorant?"

"I didn't say that."

"But your tone did." Olivia backed up and addressed the class. "Class, this is a prime example of how your tone will always say more than your diction. This may be a political science course, but communicating skills will always be more powerful. Let's dissect his argument: First, he interrupted with hostility in his tone—"

"Because you wouldn't acknowledge me."

Olivia paused, with a deadly smile. "You aren't learning from your mistakes, Mr. Grant. Interrupting and showing disrespect for authority isn't the route to go. Anyways, back to what I was saying, He began with hostility. That automatically makes your audience put up their defense and shut out any incoming material."

Fitz rose, abruptly gathering his books. Right when he reached the door, Olivia stopped him.

"Mr. Grant. Before you go, here is your essay." She held out the paper, folded over so nobody could see the grade.

It was all he could do to not snatch it as he accepted it and left class thirty minutes early.

/

Olivia sighed seeing Fitz standing outside of her office before she could get there. Class ended ten minutes ago. He was waiting on her. "What?"

"I could ask you the same thing. What is your problem?"

Olivia shot him a quiet down look before unlocking the door and letting him in. "My problem?" She kept her voice low but powerful.

"You have been treating me unfairly, and I hate to think I know why."

Olivia leaned against her desk and raised her eyebrows. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Come on." He threw his hands up halfway. "You ignore me in class, and when you do acknowledge me, you cut me down with no chance to explain myself. You failed my first essay, and—"

"I'm sorry your plan to seduce the TA for an A didn't work out."

"That is not what this is about! Don't insult me. You are taking everything out on me, because I kissed you. I apologized, and I don't know what else to do."

"That is not why I—"

"Then what is?"

"Your thesis was weak. It wasn't subjective enough. If I wanted to read a Wikipedia article, I would have opened Google Chrome. You didn't show enough creativity."

"That is not it. You could be more creative with your excuses, yourself."

Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She just stood there, slightly stunned.

"You are scared." He stated matter-of-factly. "I kissed you and it scared you, and I'm sorry for that." He stepped forward to her, his voice soft. "But I was ready to move on and pretend it never happened."

"Mr. Grant…" She cast her eyes downwards, and hated herself for it. Why couldn't she look him in the face? Why did she have to call him by his last name in order to keep her composure?

He took a couple steps towards her, so that he was right in front of her, within her reach. "Don't be scared. I know you feel something for me. I know it because I know you, which is crazy, because I don't know you, but I do."

Olivia now looked up into his eyes, He had the softest look in him, and she suddenly felt so foolish for her behavior. She suddenly remembered the way his hands felt wrapped around her and the way his lips felt brushing against hers.

"I'm sorry for this." She spoke in her clearest voice, and her next move scared both of them as she pushed up on her toes. She pushed her mouth centimeters from his, then pulled back, hesitating and trying to talk herself out of it. He wouldn't have any of that as he sliding one hand around her back and the other one in between her hair and neck. He held her there for a split moment, until she found the courage to seal their kiss. Her hands clutched his shirt by his sides as their tongues explored each other's mouths. Fitz backed her up to the edge of her desk. She was intoxicating in the best way. He kissed her like he wanted to kiss her the first time.

Finally, he withdrew. Her eyes were still closed and her head was tilted. He ran his thumb across her cheek and lips. Her large, doe eyes opened and looked at him. The careful guard was completely gone, and he saw something else. He wasn't sure what it was, but he was going to find out.

"Fitz…"

He was beginning to love the way she said it.