He could barely remember what it was like to have inspiration. There were times where he could see a single balloon floating in the sky and write an entire novel off of a story that he attached to it. He recalled the way it used to be so easy. It was all so effortless and he longed for that to return. He wanted the ease of words flowing through him without the struggle of forcing himself to sit and push out mediocre ideas.

Fitzgerald Grant was a writer. He'd gotten his start writing for a small Seattle newspaper as the wedding columnist. Fitz, as his close acquaintances called him, was no one's romantic. Using one word to describe him, cynic actually fit to a tee. However, the job paid enough for him to live comfortably, meaning that until he could weasel his way out of the position, he'd have to continue interviewing lovesick couples and putting on a brave face while watching drunk aunts and uncles attempt to do the "Cupid Shuffle." Fitz's true passion, however, was fiction. His first novel was crap, a realization he'd come to terms with it after it had been rejected from countless publishers, when it was much too late. Now, he chalked it up to a learning experience.

Fitz glanced down at the time in the corner of his laptop screen. He had forty-five minutes until he had to do the interview for the couple he was writing on this week. He had been sitting in the small cafe for over two hours and his word document was still blank, the blinking cursor taunting him to put words on the page. Reluctantly, he closed the computer and began packing his things to head across the city.

As he was leaving the coffee shop, his focus was on his phone dialing his photographer to make sure he was on time to the shoot. Fitz bumped into a much smaller figure, sending the other person into the doorway. He reached out to grab whomever it was that he bumped, only to receive one of the coldest glares he'd ever seen. The woman pointed a manicured finger at him, keeping him at bay.

"I know the air might be a little thinner up, but try to pay attention. Walking through a door isn't rocket science, pretty boy." She told him, looking up through her blunt bangs, before rolling her eyes and walking into the shop.

Fitz stood in the doorway, taken aback, before shaking himself off and finishing dialing the number of photographer, Grayson. If he wasn't already in a shitty mood, he sure was now. He got into his car, fuming from his encounter and not in the mood to conduct an interview. Every couple that wanted a feature was pretentious and cookie cutter. They'd say that they met in college because she was in a sorority and he was in a frat. There would be a cheesy proposal story and they'd take pictures by a pond. It was routine and if there wasn't so much money in it, Fitz would have quit a long time ago.

/ / / / / / / / / / /

"Well, I was in Delta Gamma and he was in Delta Chi. Y'know what they say, 'No matter the letter, Greeks do it better.', so we were bound to fall in love." Ashten, the bride exclaimed. Fitz nodded, feigning interest. "And we had the same Public Speaking class and from there everything was history." Sean, the groom, chimed in.

"If you would have told me freshman year that I was gonna marry the guy who always came into class hungover in pajama pants, I would have never believed you." Ashten giggled, looking lovingly over at her snapped a picture, capturing the candid moment. Just as Sean was about to start talking, the sound of heels filled the room.

"That must be Liv!" Ashten jumped up, facing the doorway. She turned toward Fitz to clue him in. "Liv's our wedding planner. She's a magician and a goddess all wrapped into one."

Olivia smirked walking through the door, hearing her praises being sung. "I'm just a normal person, Ms. Pierce. You're being dramatic."

"Olivia, you've pulled so many strings! Our weddings going to be perfect, all because of you. And I told you to call me Ashten! " Olivia waved her hand, as if she was pushing the idea from the air. She turned toward the interviewer and photographer to introduce herself. Her eyes widened when she saw who it was, but she maintained her composure and stayed professional.

"I'm Olivia Pope, we spoke on the phone." She told him, shaking his much larger hand. "I've heard nothing but good things about your work." Olivia moved on shaking Grayson's hand. "I expect that half of the state of Washington will be jealous of my bride." Olivia told them, before going to stand in the corner and look over her checklists on her tablet. She was listening on and off to the interview, but it was all so repetitive to her. Every couple had the same story or some variation of it.

She'd been planning weddings for two and a half years, but she had yet to meet a single couple that stood out from all the others. It was as if there was a factory manufacturing these men and women to eventually seek her help planning their wedding. Olivia rolled her eyes at their typical and predictable responses. Yet, she'd smile in the pictures she was asked to join and force tears as they twirled around the dancefloor to John Legend's "All of Me," just as she had for her last seven weddings. She had mastered the act after her second wedding.

Olivia was confirming the floral arrangements when she heard her name mentioned. "I'm just going to ask Ms. Pope a few questions and Grayson will handle your photos." Fitz told the couple as he turned toward Olivia. "Ms. Pope, do you mind answering a couple questions? I like to get the planner's point of view for a few questions."

She nodded, closing her tablet. Sitting next to her, Fitz finally got a better look at Olivia Pope. Her face was much softer than her personality would have lead him to believe. Her doe eyes and soft pout made her look more like a doll, than the pitbull persona she had. Her hair, except for the bangs, was pulled tightly into a bun that added height to her short frame. Fitz finally pulled his gaze from her and looked down at his questions, reading from the list he had for the planners. "So, what made Sean and Ashten stand out to you?"

Olivia sighed, reciting one her memorized lines, "Well, they're just so genuinely in love. I meet a lot of couples who want weddings that will make their friends jealous. I meet people who just want gifts and tax cuts. They weren't like that, Ashten was fine with going to courthouse but Sean didn't want her to regret not having a real wedding. A love like theirs is rare…"

Fitz and Olivia continued the interview for fifteen more minutes, each answer more rehearsed than the previous. Once they'd finished, Fitz found himself staring at her once again. "Can I ask you one more question, off the record?" He questioned.

Olivia rolled her eyes once again, looking over her shoulder at Fitz. "I'm not going on a date with you."

"That wasn't my question but thanks for the boost in confidence." Fitz mumbled, holding the door open for her. "I was going to ask why you became a wedding planner? You rolled your eyes so many times I lost count, the answers when I asked you questions- they were just off. I don't know. It just doesn't seem like you really care for weddings or the couples you're planning for."

Olivia stopped and stared at him. "What it seems like to you doesn't matter. You're writing a story on the couple, not on how you think I feel about my job." She told him, boldly, before storming off. She got into her car and sped off before he got the chance to apologize or elaborate on his comments.

Left standing in the parking lot, Fitz was unsure of what just happened. He walked to his car trying to process his afternoon. From his initial run in with Olivia to her abrupt exit, he had not expected his day to go as it had. He was, however, interested in knowing more about Olivia. Ever since he was a child, Fitz had been intuitive and nosy (one of the reasons he'd become a journalist) and he wanted to figure her out. She was like a puzzle to him and from what he picked up on, there was much more to her than she let on.

"It's insane that people would want to devote their life to women when they act as crazy as she did." He mumbled, driving toward his home.

/ / / / / / / / / / /

The next morning as Fitz sat with his cup of coffee, his mind kept going back to the dream that he'd had the night before. In his dream, there had been a small town full of people living their lives as they normally did. Mothers and fathers dropped their children off at school and went to work, only for an unexpected storm to turn their town on its side. All of a sudden, Fitz found himself at his desk. Ideas and phrases were flowing from him faster than he could record them. From what he jotted down, it was a hurricane that destroyed the town. Not only was the physical changed, but the town's attitudes would begin to change.

He couldn't tell where the idea was coming from, but the ideas for a premise were flowing freely. Fitz didn't want to question it, so he just wrote everything that came to his brain before the moment was gone. There were no details yet. He hadn't decided on the name or location of the town, the time of year or the specifics of the individuals he'd focus on. Fitz did know one detail, one that he couldn't seem to shake; the hurricane's name. For some reason, it had to be named after a woman and only one name stuck out to him: Olivia.

A/N: This is my first Scandal fic, so I hope y'all enjoy it. This was just a short intro chapter, future chapters will be longer! Love ya,
-dev!