Author's Note: Hello and welcome, everyone! HandsUpPunk08/ivebraved100storms and I are back with a follow up to Genesis. We were trying to do one big post like last time but we've got too many ideas to make it happen before the End of Time so this one's going to be a mostly written multichapter. How many chapters we'll end up with is unknown. HandsUp says that we've written 29 pages of Word so far and we're nowhere near close to done yet so…and…yeah. That's cool. We need more Olitz EpFics, anyways.
Like Genesis, there will be some sex in this, some damned good sex but going off of 5x01's excellent end balcony scene, this story mostly has our heroes talking, really talking like they should've done ages ago. If they're going to make it happen cap'n, they've got to talk and mean it. It's angsty but not without good reason and hope. There's always hope with Olitz, at least with HandsUp and I. What The Creator decides to do with them on the show itself is up in the air (as per fuckin' usual…I'm not bitter, you're bitter!) but with us, a HEA is 100% guaranteed or at least there will be groundwork for one.
Same as last time: A bolded letter at the beginning of a passage indicates a switch in writers. HandsUp has gone into Fitz's head and I've got Liv's POV. Sit back, grab some wine and popcorn, and enjoy the ride!
Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!" ("ours"!)
In which Paul answers his accusers.
Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception…On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God…
"Mr. President, just for clarification, you have engaged in an affair with Olivia Pope since your first election campaign?"
"Yes, that's correct," Fitz stated simply. There was nothing else to add. It was the truth. And that was the entire point. Coming clean. Being honest about the man that he was. Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, who was not only the President of the United States, but the man who was desperately in love with Olivia Pope. He would never be apologetic for that. For falling in love with the most captivating woman he had ever met. From first glance, she had awakened things in him that had been laying in wait for decades, waiting to be shaken to life. Things that made him more whole than he had ever hoped he could be. No. He would never be sorry for that.
Never.
"Did you have sex in the White House?"
Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold…
"It wasn't something that we made a habit of, out of respect for the First Lady, but yes, we did."
Why should he lie? If he did, the truth would come out anyway and it would hurt them more. Surely, there was some type of record proving their guilt in that act specifically, despite their efforts in the past to be discreet. The thought of their joining in the Oval on the Inauguration night of his first term flashed to his mind. Fitz had to fight hard against the urge to lick his lips at the memory. 'Mr. President,' she had called him. For the first time. And the timbre of her voice when she said it had driven him wild. It still did. She still did.
If she was watching, and he knew she was, she would see his face and know exactly what he was thinking.
He loved that about her.
"Are you going to try to get custody of Teddy?"
As a fair exchange—I speak as to my children—open wide your hearts also…
"I would like to see my son as much as possible, and having primary custody would be ideal. Either way, I have no intentions of keeping him away from his mother. I want this to be as amicable as possible."
Despite the political nature of his creation, Fitz loved his son immeasurably. In some of his darkest times, Teddy had been the glue that held him together. The sun in the storm. The baby smile that warmed his aching heart. Mellie didn't hate their children, but she had never had particularly strong motherly instincts. It wasn't in her nature. Mellie was a political animal. She was no June Cleaver. He would never deny her parental rights if she wanted them, but Teddy belonged with him. There was so much in life that he wanted to experience with his son. He would fight for that.
"Are you going to marry Olivia?"
We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed…
"I have every intention of marrying her, yes. If she will have me."
He allowed himself a soft, knowing smile at the memory of her throwing his wedding ring across the residence the night before. The way she had claimed him for herself. He was quite certain she would have him, and that would make him the happiest man in the world. Even if it meant throwing away his career. They'd hole up in Vermont and live the rest of their days happily. They might be dodging insults and wiping the dirt from their names the whole time, but they would be doing it together. They would judge them. The public. The Right would whisper about the biracial aspect of their relationship behind closed doors and harp on his infidelity until they were blue in the face. They would feel the pressure. But if it meant them finally being together, after so damned long, he would handle it. They would handle it.
Together.
"Who else knew about the affair? Did you ask anyone to lie for you?"
I beg you that when I come I may not have to be as bold as I expect to be toward some people who think that we live by the standards of this world. For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does…
"A handful of people in my administration knew, I won't point fingers and expose them, but I never asked anyone to lie for me. If any lies were made on my behalf it was on their own accord for their own reasons."
There was coming clean and there was throwing people under the proverbial bus. He would not point fingers and pull others into the light, as some surely expected him to. He had been playing unfairly for too long. Covering up and strategizing his personal life. That moment was about him coming forward about what he had done, not about ratting out others for what they had done. Fitz was standing there to own up to his own actions, not to uncover the mistakes of others. Because Olivia was no mistake. She was so much more than that to him.
"Why are you coming clean now?"
For we cannot do anything against the truth, but only for the truth…
"I'm tired of putting on a brave face and hiding the man that I am from not only the public, but from myself and Olivia as well. Olivia deserves to be loved openly, without restraint or fear of repercussions or consequences. I'm giving that to her, and in turn, to myself, whether my image remains unscathed or not. There are things in this world that are worth risking everything. This is one of those things."
It was time to come clean. What better time than now? The years of waiting and watching. Sneaking around at all hours of the night. The hushed phone calls. The wanting. God, the wanting. The endless longing for each other that had been wearing them down for so long. He was exhausted of it, and he knew Olivia was too. They weren't getting any younger. If they wanted to spend their lives together, what was left of them, they had to act on it.
That's exactly what he was doing.
"Did you give Olivia favors that breech personal and professional limits?"
Rather, as servants we commend ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships and distresses; in beatings, imprisonments and riots; in hard work, sleepless nights and hunger; in purity, understanding, patience and kindness; and in sincere love; in truthful speech and in the power; with weapons of righteousness in the right hand and in the left; through glory and dishonor, bad report and good report; genuine, yet regarded as impostors; known, yet regarded as unknown; dying, and yet we live on; beaten, and yet not killed; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything. We have spoken freely to you, and opened wide our hearts to you. We are not withholding our affection from you, but you are withholding yours from us…
"I think this is all about perception, which makes me unable to answer objectively. There have been strings pulled in the past, but I feel that they were more on a professional level than a personal one."
Everything they had been through together flashed before his eyes, the good and the bad, and it made him feel weak. His hands gripped the side of the podium firmer. Her abduction had nearly killed him, but he didn't need to reiterate to the American people that he had gone to war for Olivia Pope. It wasn't his proudest moment, but he wouldn't take it back either. Had it been personal? Yes. But he was going to let that one rest for the moment. It hurt to much to think about, still. They hadn't made the best decisions along the way, and they both knew that. Objectivity was often cast aside. It made them think with their hearts, feelings battling with rational thought and winning. Hand over fist. Life had tried so hard to beat them down and kill their love. The incident with Amanda Tanner. He had slipped and it had made Olivia doubt him. All of the games Cyrus had played, forcing them against one another. Defiance, which had made him doubt her. Ballard, who had fought hard to drive a wedge between them. Rowan, that power hungry sonofabitch. Re-election...
They had been so close to making it happen then. But Olivia had convinced him that his presidency, his legacy, was more important. She had been wrong. Fitz wished that he could forgive himself for letting her talk him into running for a second term instead of giving it all up for her. It was why he was pushing forward this time. They had denied themselves for too long, pressing the needs of others before their own.
Their love could not be smothered.
It was their time now.
"Is she going to be the new First Lady?"
In all our troubles my joy knows no bounds…
"We have several decisions to make together before I will be able to appropriately answer this question. However, I would love nothing more than to finish out my term, God willing, with her by my side."
That was the dream, really. Running the country, being the most powerful man in the free world with her by his side. She would undoubtedly be twice the First Lady that Mellie had been. Her charisma was record setting, and with the right twist, with tweaks and careful planning in the optics, they could make it happen. Olivia could fix anything, but she had let him step on the podium and practically shout out that he was in love with her. Sure, he was more than willing to hand over his presidency in favor of being her husband. But the idea of her being the First Lady made his heart soar. He would be happy either way. Joy would fill him to the brim. They would conquer the world, whether that meant managing the country together, yes together, or managing their household in Vermont. Nothing was impossible anymore. Sorrow would no longer make him buckle when he said goodbye to her. There were no more real goodbyes. He would never again go months on end without so much as seeing her face. Those days were gone.
They could only go up from here.
/
"Mr. President, just for clarification, you have engaged in an affair with Olivia Pope since your first election campaign?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Did you have sex in the White House?"
"It wasn't something that we made a habit of, out of respect for the First Lady, but yes, we did."
"Are you going to try to get custody of Teddy?"
"I would like to see my son as much as possible, and having primary custody would be ideal. Either way, I have no intentions of keeping him away from his mother. I want this to be as amicable as possible..."
The side door to the Oval banged open and slammed shut. Olivia took in the sight of a wide eyed Abby Whelan impassively and made room for her on the sofa she was sitting on. There was a glass of scotch in her hand and even as the questioning continued on screen, she couldn't help but smile. It wasn't a broad smile nor was it one that showed her teeth but the smile was genuine.
"Liv, are you..."
"As soon as I saw him, I knew."
"What?"
"As soon as I saw him, as soon as I heard his voice in Iowa, I knew that I would end up falling for him. I always liked how he approached politics but what really drew me in, what has a tendency to draw me in were his eyes. Not just because they're gorgeous eyes but because they were so sad..."
They weren't sad, now. They were ablaze with a potent combination of relief and of joy. He was free. The shackles were loosened from his heart and his soul. It was like taking 10 years off, 15 even. Regret rose up in her chest again. She had been responsible for keeping him chained. He had been trapped in a dead marriage and surrounded by all sorts of leeches, all sorts of monsters who wanted to use him. She had let them do it. She had cloaked herself in cowardice and martyrdom and hurt him. She had helped hurt him so many times in so many ways...
"Are you going to marry Olivia?"
"I have every intention of marrying her, yes. If she will have me..."
A watery chuckle escaped her at the caveat he put on that answer. Of course, she would have him. It was never a question if Olivia wanted him. It was always 'should she have him?' or ' could she have him?'. She wanted him. She needed him and goddamn it, she loved him. Olivia was irreversibly, head over heels, walk through the flames in love with Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III and she would be his wife. She would be Olivia Pope-Grant and she would stand by his side in the sun, in the rain, the snow...
"Who else knew about the affair? Did you ask anyone to lie for you?"
"A handful of people in my administration knew, I won't point fingers and expose them, but I never asked anyone to lie for me. If any lies were made on my behalf it was on their own accord for their own reasons."
Olivia nodded in approval at that statement. She had expected him to say that. Fitz had a spine but he was rarely malicious just to be malicious or petty just to be petty. There were exceptions to that, their encounter after Ella's christening standing out prominently, but overall, he was a kind and gentle soul. What was the internet meme? 'Beautiful Cinnamon Roll, Too Good for this World, Too Pure'...any other man in his position would be eager to spill the beans on who helped cover his relationship with her and who helped interfere. Mellie, Cyrus, Rowan, Jake...herself. The regret bubbled up again but she reminded herself that things were different, now. It was a new day for them, a new Era for what was already being dubbed #Olitz by social media.
It was Time.
It was their Time.
It was time for them Be.
It was their Time and they would get through the storm together.
Running away, walking away, pushing away...none of that was an option, anymore.
Go Big or Go Home.
Olivia's endgame was to go big and go home with him. Vermont, the Residence, her apartment, anywhere was home as long as he was with her...
"Why are you coming clean now?"
"I'm tired of putting on a brave face and hiding the man that I am from not only the public, but from myself and Olivia as well. Olivia deserves to be loved openly, without restraint or fear of repercussions or consequences. I'm giving that to her, and in turn, to myself, whether my image remains unscathed or not. There are things in this world that are worth risking everything. This is one of those things."
Yes, indeed. They were worth much more than Olivia had allowed them to have in the past. He had been a factor in keeping them apart, too but not nearly as much as she did. She had muddied the waters, made things much more complicated and exhausting than they had to be. Not Fitz. He had always been straightforward with his intentions and she had played games, played him and cheated them out of time that they could never get back. She couldn't go back and get a do-over. Lord knows that if she could, she would've twice over but she could make their present, their future solid and bright.
Abby sighed heavily and slumped into the couch, looking at her solemnly. Olivia rested a consoling hand on her friend's shoulder and they continued watching the interview.
"Did you give Olivia favors that breech personal and professional limits?"
"I think this is all about perception, which makes me unable to answer objectively. There have been strings pulled in the past, but I feel that they were more on a professional level than a personal one."
That wasn't true. They had both done things for the other that could be seen as completely unethical and irresponsible. Defiance, Amanda Tanner, the Monitoring that Jake Ballard had done on his orders and Rowan's, Jeannine Locke, the War on in West Angola...they had crossed the line. They had erased the Line but...there hadn't been a choice. There had but really, there hadn't...
"Is she going to be the new First Lady?"
Would she be FLOTUS? Maybe...
"We have several decisions to make together before I will be able to appropriately answer this question. However, I would love nothing more than to finish out my term, God willing, with her by my side."
Would she be his First Lady? Most definitely. He had a ring finger that needed to be adorned with something new and she was going to be the one who did it, damn it. He was hers, she was his, and they were going to get married, whether anyone liked it or not...
Abby muted the television and Olivia looked at her head on.
"This is going to be a mess, Liv. It's going to be even bigger than when your name was Leaked because even then, there was room to make it into a rumor, into libel. Not now. He put you out there, put you both out there and there's no turning back now."
"I know."
"Aren't you scared?"
"I'm fucking terrified, Abby. But, you know what? I would rather be terrified with him than terrified without him. It's not just about sex. It's not about the chase. It's not about power. It's love. It is painful, difficult, devastating, life changing love. It's not a perfect love but it's a love that he feels for me and that I feel for him. I've felt it from the moment we met and I'm done running from it. I'm done trying to destroy it and I'm just...he's worth it to me, Abby. Just like I'm worth it to him. Can you believe he said that? He said that I was like flying. He was a fighter pilot and a damned good one so he knows and..."
"He's worth it."
"Yeah...yeah, he is."
"He better be."
"He is, Abby. He's worth everything."
/
Fitz let the questions halt there for the time being, despite the jumbled confusion of voices that rose in cacophony behind him as he left the podium. They wanted more. The inquiries cold go on for hours. Days, even. There would be time for that later. To him, the sound was all muffled. Hushed in the peaceful excitement that he had. Oh, how impossible that feeling was. To be at a level of peace that he had never felt before but to also be so enthusiastic about what was in store for him. For them. There were no words to describe the feeling that filled his chest. None at all. A completeness. A silence where storms of great multitude had once raged, promising destruction. He was ready to go quiet for awhile. To let the public decide how his words tasted, see how their stomachs settled.
He hoped they could swallow it.
That they could see that none of this meant that he was less than a good man.
The man that she had made of him.
She had made him who he was. The man that he had been before he had met Olivia could be unrecognizable to him. Fitz had been no more than a shell of a man, simply going through the motions of life. Living the dream and following the path that had been expected of him. But Olivia had made him want it. She had made him realize that he had a greatness in him that so few before him in politics had possessed. Despite the world of manipulation that was involved in the political world, Fitz always tried to do the right thing. He cared. He really cared, and in some ways that was a weakness, but she never saw it that way. She always saw it as his greatest strength.
Even when he didn't.
Even when he made mistakes.
He was her champion, who had lived to fight another day.
The White House staff was unusually quiet as he made his way back towards the Oval. It made him smirk. He had literally rendered them speechless. How many other rooms in the nation's capital were just as silent as the people there tried to comprehend what he had just told the world? How many more rooms held screaming, raging Right wingers who couldn't stand it? Waves. They were making waves and it was glorious. A glory that he had never felt. It made him proud. Heavenly. Light and sated. Feelings filled him that were of no comparison to even the best moments of his life before he had written the speech. The best part that it was going to stick around, that feeling. It wasn't going to slip from his grasp this time. No.
...For what was glorious has no glory now in comparison with the surpassing glory. And if what was transitory came with glory, how much greater is the glory of that which lasts!
It would not be smooth sailing for them, no. Waves. In order to make them you must be willing to ride them. But as long as he had her, he had it all. He could float about the tide, resisting the pull of the undercurrent that would take him below and hold him until the life had been sucked from him. She would be his anchor. Not weighing him down, no. Never that. Never again. She would hold him steady.
Even when the crashing sea threatened to envelop the both of them.
The return trip to the Oval seemed to take hours, but it was the anticipation of getting back to her than lengthened it. The thought of laying eyes on her, after the things he had just shouted to the world, made his heart thump wildly. To get a visual on her reaction. Sure, he had seen a glimpse of it when she had read over his speech earlier, but the after would be different. He had gone through with it. He still could have backed out. Called it off. Changed his mind entirely about the worthiness of her. Of them. But he hadn't. He couldn't. They were worth everything.
He took a deep breath before grasping the doorknob and letting himself into his office. His movements were slow, regulated, and seemingly relaxed. He felt her presence. He always did. It was electric, setting his every fiber on end and itching towards her. Fitz rested his back against the door, his hands settling into the pockets of his navy blue suit pants as his eyes met hers across the room.
"Hi."
/
"He's on his way back here, isn't he?"
"Mm-hm."
"I'll make myself scarce. Let me know if you need anything, Liv. Anything at all."
"I will, Abby."
After her friend slipped out of the side door into the eerily silent corridors, Olivia turned off the television. Although the Press Conference itself was over, the news coverage was only beginning. She could almost see the waves they were making in the air, each bigger than the last, radiating and crashing onto various shores. There would be a powder keg of reactions. Some would dub her the ultimate Harlot, Babylon the Great incarnated into one woman. They would condemn her for seducing away one of their golden children and him for allowing himself to be taken in by her Jezebel, jungle fever magic ways. Others would applaud him for being honest, for being bold, and being true to his heart and soul. Not many politicians, especially the ones high up in the food chain, knew how to do that anymore. It was all about the image, all about the Optics, all about saying what they thought people wanted to hear...
Her phone was on silent but it kept lighting up, alternating between Cyrus and Mellie on the Caller ID. She picked it up and very pointedly, turned it off. Unlike when she did it on that ill advised flight to the Island, there was no hesitation and no hint of doubt in her decision. She would deal with Cyrus and Mellie when she was ready to deal with them, when she and Fitz were ready to deal with them. She would not allow them to guilt, manipulate, and threaten her into helping them regain a firm grip on their personal power. Oh, they would claim that they were worried about Fitz, scared about how this "mess" would ruin him and his Legacy for all eternity but Olivia wasn't going to let herself fall into that tiger trap again. She allowed them to use her devotion to Fitz as puppet strings, making her dance and move to their tune. They knew that neither of them could get through to him like she could so they made her their mouthpiece, their disciple, their minion, their...their servant! The sting of being called "the Help" and being accused of "falling down on the Job" would forever linger and now, that sting would make her resolve even firmer. She was only their Savior when they needed something from her. Otherwise, she was the Dirty Whore, the Mistress, the Sally Hemmings reboot that they could look down on and feel superior against, even as they languished in their own filth, attached firmly to their Host like the Leeches they had always been.
Never again.
Never, ever again would she help either of them. As far as she was concerned, Mellie Grant (soon to be Vaughn) and Cyrus Beene were on a permanent No-Fly list for Clients and as friends, as acquaintances, as allies? They were dead to her. There were as dead as Verna Thornton, as James, as...as Harrison...
"What's your endgame?", the O.G. (Original Gladiator) had asked her once he put the pieces together. Other people would be asking that question. Hell, they were already asking it and soon, she would have to give an answer. The answer had never been lost to her. She knew what her Endgame was. She had just assumed that she would never be able to have it. She would never be able to even touch it for more than a hot second before it was snatched away or rather, thrown away in a flurry of cowardice and obligations.
What was her endgame?
The main door to the Oval opened and shut.
"Hi."
Her endgame was looking at her with eyes brimming over with need, tenderness, and devotion. Her endgame was leaning against the door frame, looking tired but immensely satisfied, the expression vividly reminding her of their activities the night before, activities that she was eager to resume. Her endgame had laid it on the line and Olivia would do the same for him, taking all the bad with the good and there was good. So much good. So much freedom. Even with the waves crashing and the firestorms erupting one by one, Olivia felt truly free for the first time in...well, ever.
She felt like she was flying.
"...hi."
/
She wasn't smiling, but he knew it wasn't because she was unhappy. Fitz was sure that there were at least a dozen emotions swirling through her brilliant, beautiful mind. Because he was feeling that way too. His heart was spilling over with feeling as he looked at her. Joy. Fear. Arousal. All of it, raging inside of him, practically causing him to quiver as it began to rise to the surface. Threatening to burst free from him, right through the skin.
Could he hold it together? Just a little longer. Until they were alone peacefully, in the privacy that Vermont would grant them. Where they could both release everything that was building up inside of them until they were free of it. Then they could finally breathe and settle in the aftermath.
Together.
The shrill ringing on the phone on his secretary's desk outside the office could be heard but he tried to push the sound out of his mind. It was full enough without having to think about all of the inquiries and lectures that were in his future. Near future, surely. Mellie and Cyrus would go absolutely nuclear over it. But that wasn't what he wanted to deal with. Not yet. He knew that he would have to face it, and he would.
After he spent the weekend in Vermont showing the love of his life just how much she meant to him. In case his declaration hadn't been enough. Fitz would never tire of showing her affection.
And he would never stop.
Not for anything in the world.
On his way back, he had discussed travel arrangements with the Secret Service. As soon as he was ready, as soon as they were ready, they could leave. For a few days, they could leave DC and all of the gossip and accusations behind.
They could be together and be nothing else but each other's.
Just for a moment, but it would be the beginning of forever.
He took the strides to close the distance between them and took a seat beside her. He knew if he kissed her, he wouldn't be able to stop. So he didn't. Not yet. Gently, he took the scotch tumbler from her and took a hearty sip, humming at the hot relief that scorched down his throat, heating his belly like a hearth.
"The helicopter is ready for us," he mentioned casually, as if he was simply suggesting which wine they could have with dinner. As if it wasn't something that they had been longing to do for years.
As if the day hadn't completely changed their lives.
Olivia never thought that she would be a part of a Presidential Departure scene. At the end of each Presidency, the sitting President would leave in Marine One to much aplomb. The first one Olivia had seen was Richard Nixon's in her 8th grade American History class. They had just covered Watergate and when Olivia read that the man had resigned, she had expected to see him leave with his head bowed and very quickly. It had been the opposite and she had chalked it up to the man standing by his decisions. Even though the World called him dirty, "a crook", he knew that he wasn't so he could be happy to be leaving. She had chalked it up to stubborn pride and a well maintained public facade before moving on with her studies.
Now, she understood why Nixon and all the others looked so happy when they left. They were relieved. Sure, they would spend the rest of their lives in a fishbowl but not one nearly as insane as they had been tossed into as POTUS. They had the whole rest of their lives ahead of them and it was a chance for a brand new start. It was a chance to be private again. It was a chance to be open. Lord knew that she had missed being able to be open...
The South Lawn was a lush bottle green, immaculately trimmed and the helipad was already in place, Marine One waiting to take them away from DC, to take them to their Vermont estate. They would be up there through the weekend to let the initial firestorm die down, to relax, and to reconnect. There were still many things to talk about, still so many cans of worms to pry open, still so many unanswered questions. They needed to sit down and hash everything out. Even if they had to drink, even if they had to yell, even if they had to cry, they would do it. She would do it. Olivia had kept so much bottled up and she knew that Fitz had his own mental and emotional contents under pressure. They needed to let it out and the privacy of their home, the trust that was still between them after everything, would allow the release to be safe.
And reconnecting and releasing also had a lot to do with their bodies. The night before had been absolutely exquisite but it wasn't enough. They had so much time to make up for and new time to spend. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to stroke him. She wanted to climb him. She just wanted to throw herself into his arms and let him do what he saw fit. No one could touch her like Fitz could. He knew just what to do to satisfy not just her body but her spirit, to settle her roiling mind into some sort of peace. Being with him, making love to him, fucking him...it brought her peace when she allowed it to.
She would allow it to. Part of not running away was letting go of control. Olivia had operated under the idea that everything could be Fixed, Handled, and Controlled but that just wasn't true. Some things just had to run their course. Sometimes, all a person could do was hold on, trust, and ride it out. Olivia couldn't save the world and she couldn't control everything. Trying to had lost her countless hours of sleep, many friends, and relationships. At the root of every failed relationship she had been in (other than questionable taste and timing with men to begin with, Fitz included in the latter...), was her inability to let go and trust that she would be caught before she hit the ground.
If she was going to put the broken pieces of herself back together, if she was going to regain a solid sense of security, if she was really going to throw herself headfirst screaming into a fully functional, healthy, happy relationship with her Fitzgerald, then she had no choice but to let go.
If she would let him, Fitz would catch her and he'd cherish her. She knew that in her bones.
As soon as they stepped outside, the rotors of Marine One began to turn and she could see the Media being held at bay by Secret Service, MPD, and even a few G-Men. Instead of deterring them, more media vans were coming into view and there were spectators on all sides of the wrought iron fencing. She could hear the rapid clicking of camera shutters and see the red lights on the cameras indicating that every step she took, every step they took was being recorded for posterity. The Leader of the Free World and the Woman who he was likely going to have give everything up for were leaving together in broad daylight, just like Presidents and their First Ladies. Had he been impeached already? Would he be impeached at all? Can you believe that he finally copped to being with Olivia Pope? It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that there had always been something more than friendship and professionalism between them. It had been the worst and best kept secret in DC. It was like JFK and Marilyn Monroe all over again...
Squashing the instinct to quicken her pace, Olivia focused on breathing deeply and kept putting one foot in front of the other.
Another thing that the assembled humanity had to be marveling at was her appearance. Instead of the power suit and mile high heels she was infamous for, Olivia wore a plum purple scoop necked dress, her white cover up from the night before, and a pair of leopard print flats. She had left her hair down and it was tousled both from her fingers during the interview and now the breeze. She didn't have on a stitch of makeup but she still looked gorgeous and my, my, wasn't she a brave little toaster for coming out with the POTUS right now? He wasn't even divorced, yet! The Press Conference had been less than an hour ago and she was right there holding his hand as they stopped at the bottom of the fold down stairs leading to Marine One. Wait a minute...was she seriously holding his hand?
Fitz startled at the initial contact and he stopped to look between their hands and her face. Olivia knew that her facial expression was blank, serene even but every bit of what she was feeling was her in her gaze. She was still scared. She was absolutely terrified but that didn't mean that she didn't want to be where she was. It didn't mean that she wasn't relieved and happy to be out in the open with him, in more ways than one. She was scared but she was going to stay. She wanted to stay.
She would stay with him.
If she went away again, it would be because of a business meeting (if she still even had a business at the end of the day...), an outing with her remaining Gladiators and friends, or it would be because someone had Taken her again. She wouldn't just take off. She'd let him know and if possible, bring him with her.
Just like he didn't want to be without her anymore, Olivia wasn't too keen on being apart from him, either.
Rising up on her tiptoes, she pressed a tender kiss to his cheek before ascending the stairs to the helicopter, heart pounding in the back of her throat. Terror warred with exhilaration in her mind and she was unsure whether she should laugh, cry, scream...
The feel of his lips pressing forcefully against hers took the decision out of her hands and hers buried happily in his thick curls.
She wasn't sure if her stomach swooped because of Marine One lifting off or because of his kiss.
Perhaps it was both...
/
It sure felt like he was leaving for good. Fitz felt a sense of foreboding in the air and god if he wasn't choking on it a little. The way the press hovered. It was the same as usual but different as well. It was scrutiny like he hadn't truly felt before. It made his chest heavy. Not with regret, but with worry. Even though he felt, and had told Olivia once, that his job was difficult (let's face it, it sucked), he still loved it. He loved waking up each day with the promise of making a difference for his country. The country that he loved. The country that he had fought for when he was in the Navy. The country that he had believed in enough to get into politics and run for the biggest office. All with the promise of helping people. He still had some time left, and he wanted to spend it pushing forward and making change.
The first change was putting Olivia by his side.
He wanted to do that, all of that, with her beside him.
She was worth giving it up, sure, but if Congress did indeed accept his offer to resign, he would miss it. Sure, a much more private life with Olivia in Vermont, or wherever they ventured, would be great. No, amazing. But she knew just as much as he did that he had a heart for the presidency that few had. It was why she had pushed him and believed in him for so long. He desperately wanted to finish his legacy, but he would swallow that and let it go.
If he had to.
For her.
It was bittersweet.
They stood at the doors that faced the South Lawn, still just far enough away from the media scope, taking one minute. Just one minute. Before they surged forward and faced the first real wave of the storm. Together. He looked at her, saying all that he needed to without even opening his mouth. It might be his favorite thing about their relationship. How they could say everything without uttering a single word. It was the connection of a lifetime. One that had gripped him from that first day and refused to let him go…
"I would eat, breathe, and live Fitzgerald Grant every minute of every day. You would be lucky to have me. Just because you don't like hearing the truth about yourself-"
"I loved hearing what you had to say. I agree with every word, very astute…and you're right. I would be lucky to have you…"
Then they had stood there. Close. So goddamn close, but not close enough. Never close enough. Like an idiot, he had stood there, with his mouth open, but he found no words to say as their eyes met. No words in that moment could describe the intensity of what he felt for her. It was as if someone placed a magnet near his navel at birth and he had finally found the companion piece that had been made to fit him. That didn't repel when he got too close. That, instead, pulled him in, practically begging him to touch her. From that first minute, their first unofficial minute, he knew, he felt deep down in his gut, that she was made for him.
"This is why you fired me."
"Can we just…"
"Go back in there and work?"
"Okay."
"Okay…"
They had tried to ignore it then. Tried formidably, because they both knew what it would mean if they actually put those feelings into words. They hinted at it, toyed around with it, until that night in his hotel room. He had given her an out, just like he was going as they stood with Marine One waiting. She had been given a choice. Always. But she had chosen him. Despite the running and the fear, she always chose him at the end of the day.
He looked at the affirmation on her face, strong and steady there, even amongst the swirling of the other emotions that she was trying to stifle. She was in. She was there.
They were really going through with it.
He gave her a soft grin and nodded, holding the door for her as they stepped outside. He hadn't seen the media crowded like that since the last time Olivia's name was joined with his in the tabloids. They had to admit, they were definitely a couple of power. They could and would move mountains together. And they would be a dynamic duo in the White House if he was able to finish out his presidency. They were shocking the world, but the world wasn't ready for what they would be together.
In the White House or outside of it.
The flashes of the cameras would have been blinding if it wasn't during the day. God, he had balls, didn't he? He couldn't keep the close-lipped grin off of his face, but he tried to keep it subtle. He'd give his left leg to see Mellie's reaction to him parading Olivia in front of the media. Something she never thought he'd actually go through with. Priceless, indeed. Though he was sure he would deal with her reactions enough later. And Cyrus. It was about them for the moment. And he could tell by the way the air felt between them, despite her attempt to conceal it from everyone else, that she was about to jump out of her skin, feeling out of her element in their new situation. Of course, she was the great Olivia Pope. She would put on a brave face and press forward, not showing the first sign of weakness. But he knew her. She was feeling everything he was feeling, and probably more. They had so much to deal with. So much to handle. So much to talk about. And it was all there bubbling just under the surface, for both of them.
Then she took his hand, and he felt the slight trembling.
He gave her a reassuring squeeze and met her gaze as they stopped on the helipad for a moment. He was right. He saw it. Right there in her eyes. The fear. He gave her a nod, acknowledging it, agreeing that he felt it too. But it would pass. It had to.
Because there they were, bold and brave, standing together, about to board Marine One, right there in front of the whole world.
And she was kissing his cheek, in a way that was sweet and soothing, but also an underlying tease for what was to come later. A subtle way of showing off to the public that he was hers. One of many to come, he was sure.
He knew her.
He let himself smile fully then, at the feel of her warm lips on his skin. Every paper in the country would bear a snapshot from that minute and a half journey from the White House to the helipad. And his smile, the smile he knew she loved, better accompany at least a few headlines. To show America that he meant it when he said he was in love with her.
Because god, he was so incredibly in love with that woman.
His steps seemingly calm, he followed her onto the helicopter, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Secret Service sealed the door behind them. The tinted windows saved him, because he pulled her to him once they sat on the bench seat, kissing her deeply. He held her close, anchoring her to him, as they lifted off, allowing himself a soft groan of contentment.
He felt so alive.
/
There was no going back, now.
They could slow things down between them but hiding them was completely impossible. They were exposed, raw, open to all of the scrutiny of the Media and the whole world. Forever, her name and his name would be intertwined. She was America's Mistress. Not to Fitz, never to Fitz, but for every person who would speak in support of them, of her, there would a dozen detractors. None of them really understood her, understood her and Fitz. All they would see is the sex and the secrecy. Fitz's Press Conference had clarified a lot of things, nearly everything important, but they would still judge. They would still analyze. They would still try and tear them apart, especially when Mellie began to make her statements. Poor Mellie, the lily white woman humiliated by her jungle fevered husband and his bitch, she would say. Fitz was lying. She didn't know about anything about his liaison with Olivia Pope and she certainly didn't encourage it. Surely not! She had loyally loved her husband for so long and he had betrayed her! He was so cruel, so mean, so selfish...
It was a load of steaming bullshit and Mellie knew it but she would still Spin it that way. For all of her talk of being brilliant, Mellie's greatest accomplishments were leeching off of Fitz and screwing the Vice President so good that he would speed up staging a coup just to make her his First Lady. She wasn't much of a mother and she was only a political animal when she could fully manipulate the situation like when she had lied about her miscarriage on The Trail. She would take that Spin and run with it because she wasn't creative or smart enough to do anything else. Maybe what few allies she had left could come up with something new but it was doubtful. They were all cut from the same cloth.
Fitz had left very little room for her Spin to work but it would to a point. People were ignorant. People were prejudiced. People were racist. People were all too eager to throw stones at other people's glass houses while forgetting about their own sins, their own imperfections, their own humanity. Mellie could tap into the ugliness that people hid behind a veneer of civility easily and she could make some good ground. She could tap into xenophobia and every woman who had watched The First Wives Club or had been rejected would feel her pain. Her pull wouldn't last in the long run but short term? She could do a lot of damage to Fitz and to herself. Olivia had to get ready. She had to be prepared. She had to be ready to fight fire with fire.
It wasn't time for the White Hat. It was time for brass knuckles and bloody blades. Her vaunted figurative White Hat was gone and she wouldn't miss it. David could have it, if he wanted it. He probably didn't. White Hats never lasted long in DC and maintaining them was far more trouble than they were worth.
Feeling Fitz's gaze on her, Olivia pulled her phone out of her sweater and turned it on. Immediately, it began to vibrate and flash frantically with notifications but she ignored them in favor of accomplishing...
"Liv, where are you? It's completely insane outside! We're surrounded by Media and Secret Service agents and..."
"Quinn, I'm going to text you the combination to the safe in my office. I need the black folders on Mellie, Cyrus, Sally, and I need one made for Elizabeth North. Get Huck on it."
"Huck's...Liv, Huck's gone. Something happened and...he's alive but he's in no shape to work right now but..."
"But?"
"Well, Jake's here. He showed up during your walk on the South Lawn and he says that he wants to help. He's no Huck with the Tech stuff but the both of us can make it work."
"Fine. Work with him and call Abby. She's in the White House and if we're going to make it through this, we need all hands on deck. Have the folders ready by tomorrow afternoon. A Secret Service agent will grab them and if they won't show you their credentials, shoot them through the door. Not to kill, though."
"Okay. Should I call David, too? You're already getting death threats and you might need a lawyer in case the wife tries to sue you for stealing her husband. She can do that."
"If anyone has a shot of winning an Alienation of Affection suit, it's Fitz but we'll wait for her to set that bridge on fire. We've done enough burning for today."
"I'll say...I'm happy for you, Liv. Scared shitless for you but really happy for you, too. You deserve to be happy and The President really loves you."
"Thanks, Quinn. I'll call tomorrow."
"All right. We're on it. Be safe, Liv."
She ended the call and turned off the phone just as a call from Cyrus popped up on the other line, still determined not to talk to him or Mellie, yet. They would be calling only to judge her, now. As soon as she stepped onto the South Lawn with Fitz, it had become clear to even them whose side she was on.
They knew that she'd never help them undermine Fitz again so now needed someone to blame for what had befallen them. Olivia was their go-to scapegoat. She was their whipping girl, the Whore and the Help that they could control so they could control Fitz. Not anymore. She was absolutely done with them and those black folders would destroy them. She should've used them when Fitz leaked her name. She should've thrown everything she had at them, then. Maybe things would be different. Maybe she and Fitz would be happy, now instead of working towards it. Maybe she'd be holding their baby or pregnant. Maybe James would still be alive. Maybe Harrison would still be alive. Maybe Gerry...she had missed a lot of opportunities, thrown them away in the name of the White Hat and her own cowardice but not anymore. While she certainly wouldn't turn into Rowan, she was going to get rid of a lot of her scruples, what few that she had left, to get the life she deserved, the life they both deserved!
She rested her head on the window and sighed softly, already feeling exhausted from the situation and it had just begun.
"It's a sad reflection of humanity when adultery is seen as a bigger sin than murder or marching orders to murder, isn't it?"
"...yeah."
"I'm going to have to close OPA for good. No one is going to want to work with me after this, no matter how good I am at what I do. It's for the best, I suppose. How the hell am I supposed to Fix other people's problems when I can't even Fix my own?"
"I'm sorry, Livvie. I know how much your work means to you."
"All too well...don't worry about me blaming you for it. I'm not Mellie. I know how to take responsibility for my decisions."
"Thank God."
A bark of laughter escaped her at his matter of fact statement and she felt the seat shift as he came up behind her. Both of his arms went around her and she bowed her head, giving his lips access to press comforting kisses to the nape of her neck.
/
It was the beginning of a new journey for them. Pressing forward, against the tide that raged against their borders, threatening to break the levy and drown them for their sins.
But it was too late.
They were already drowning in each other, in the happiness that they brought each other. In the assured contentment that their lives together would bring them.
Nothing could stop them now. They wouldn't let it.
The world was going to rage at them like never before. To Fitz, she was everything. His sun, the love of his life, his Livvie. But to the world, she was a homewrecker who had broken the beloved marriage of the President and his First Lady. If only they knew how broken he and Mellie had been before Olivia had even stepped foot into their lives. Their marriage had been a goner long before he had laid eyes, or hands, on her. All of the fake smiles and nauseating affection that Fitz had put on for the press. All of the hostility towards his wife that he had been forced to choke down. He was done with that. It was going to be over. He was ready to trod the path of life with Olivia, and he wanted the public to see the joy she brought him.
He wanted them to see how in love they were so that they could love her too.
And he was confident that they would, in time. Olivia Pope might be easy for some to hate, because of her head-strong nature and drive to do the right thing as often as possible, but Fitz knew personally that she was even easier to love. Despite everything, nothing came easier to Fitz than loving her. She exuberated such passion, in everything that she did. Her beauty halted his breath, all the time. She constantly stunned him by simply existing. Just like she did as she turned on her 'Fixer' mode while she was on the phone with Quinn. Fitz watched her, in awe, as she meticulously gave orders and, he was sure, worked out a plan in her head.
But this time, it was so much different than it had been between them before. Yes, she was fixing. It was what she did. Her job. Her livelihood. But she wasn't trying to fix them. She wasn't trying to blanket their love, to hide or stifle it in hopes of saving his image. They were on a much different path this time around. They were being honest about so many things, and in defense they were willing to drag the honesties of their enemies out into the light if they had to. Mellie. Cyrus. Sally. Elizabeth. Some of the darkest and dirtiest secrets were hidden in those folders, which would give them the ammunition to use if they needed it. When they needed it. They had so much stacked against them. So many people who were going to try to tear them apart like their love was nothing. Like they were a simple little extramarital fling that would fade into the night. But what they had was so much more and they knew it. It was something that they would fight tooth and nail for. They were tired of the games when it was so simple for them.
They wanted to be together. They were going to be together. And they would tear down anyone who tried to ruin that for them.
Fitz watched her phone light up, Cyrus' photo popping up for a second before she
promptly turned it off.
The storm raged, but they were still pushing it to the side, letting it swell and brew quietly until they were fully ready to face it.
They had things to discuss and handle between them before they could begin to face
their outside battles.
Fitz would practically see the thought swirling in her head. Her beautiful and brilliant mind. It was a full plate they were dealing with, and he knew he was going to take its toll on her, if it hadn't already started doing so. They would bear the burden together. He would be damned if he would watch her sink beneath the weight alone. There was no more alone.
It was together from there on out. Always. Forever. In everything. It was all he wanted.
He took her dark-screened phone from her hand and placed it on the side table. Far from her. As far as he could reach. Out of sight and out of mind. His hand took hers and he laced their fingers, bringing her skin to his mouth where he kissed it reassuringly. She was right. They lived in a sad, petty world where people were more interested and concerned about what he was going with his dick than what he was doing with the country. To many, the progress and change that he had made, and hopefully would continue to make, in office wouldn't matter because he had openly embraced his 'mistress.' The thought made him shake his head in utter annoyance.
The look on her face when she told him that she needed to give up working made his heart sink a fraction. She didn't deserve that and he hated himself for it. For him, she was giving up her business. She seemed willing, but it was something she was good at. Great at. It was her talent, and he wasn't worthy of giving that up for. She said she wasn't placing blame on him, but she didn't have to. Fitz was blaming himself enough already. It wasn't fair to her.
He hated that.
His arms encircled her and he held her close to him, the heat of his body warm against hers. He tried to keep his kisses chaste, but found it difficult. She drove him damned near crazy, and the heaviness of the conversation, the situation, made him want to distract her. Yet, they couldn't keep diving into sex to try to make their issues disappear. They weren't playing the short game anymore and they needed to act like it.
Still…
He let his lips linger, moving them upward to her ear, where he nibbled on her earlobe.
"Responsible or not, don't give up yet. Let's see how thing play out. It could just be temporary."
Maybe once things settled she could reconvene her gladiators and start working again. Only time would tell. For her sake, he hoped so. Olivia felt most in her element when she was fixing. When she was wearing the White Hat and doing her part to help someone. But it was their time now. They were helping themselves.
"Regardless, you won't be unemployed. I hear the President is looking for a new First Lady. You should send him your resume…" he suggested cheekily, his breath fogging hot against her neck.
/
The kisses to the nape of her neck inevitably became kisses to her lips and Olivia was now on his lap, 45 minutes into their 90 minute flight to their home in Vermont. His left hand stroked the small of her back up to the band of her lavender bra and his right hand caressed her thigh underneath her dress, revealing part of her matching panties. The red tie she had picked for him was undone and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned to the hollow of his throat. She moaned as he shifted so she was on her back and her flats hit the floor as her toes curled tightly. Shuddering, she held him by his hair as he suckled at her neck again, deepening the covered marks and creating new ones. His arousal strained against his suit pants and pulsed against her flat abdomen. She wanted to touch him there. She wanted to unzip him, free him to her eager fingers, her sopping core, but she had to make something clear. She had to make sure that he understood...
She tapped him behind the ears and he raised his head questioningly.
"I don't blame you for whatever fallout I'm going to get and I don't want you blaming yourself, either."
Her hands braced on his chest and he rose up on his forearms, looking at her with a carefully blank face. She knew that face. Fitz was trying to avoid whatever he was feeling and it was painfully obvious when he did. He was a very expressive man, practically a live wire when it came to his emotions, positive or negative. It was one of the things that made him irresistible yet terrifying to her. He was capable of hiding his motives, hiding his feelings but he didn't see the need to unless he was being Presidential and even then, he was still...she wasn't used to people like him. She always looked for a hidden motive, for the lie, and that tainted a lot of her interactions with him.
"Liv, I..."
"No."
"But..."
"No. Don't take on guilt that doesn't belong to you. It's not your fault."
"Olivia..."
"People have blamed you for a lot of things that they shouldn't have. I blamed you for a lot of things that I shouldn't have. It was easier to do that and utterly unfair. I made you out to be the one who took advantage of me and that was wrong. I was wrong to do that and I'm sorry. You've never taken advantage of me, even at our worst times. I made the choices to be with you and to leave you. You've always left the final say to me and I appreciate that. I...I'll try not to use that final say to hurt you like before but I may slip a few times. Whatever hell that has broken loose or is about to is not your fault or my fault. Clear?"
/
Fitz wondered if they would ever get it out of their systems. The breathtaking desire for each other that they couldn't seem to tame. Granted, they had gone months between intimate encounters and survived, but there were times when he felt like he couldn't breathe if he wasn't touching her. As if each breath he took caught painfully in his throat, the weight of it pressing down heavily on his chest. The need almost more than he could stand. She sustained him, in every way. There were parts of him that seemed to live only on the taste and feel of her.
Those parts of him had been starved during her absence from his life. And after having her the night before, he knew he had to have more. It wasn't enough. It was never enough.
His tongue dipped between her parted lips to tangle with hers in sensuous strokes. The sounds he drew from her fueled him, and when she moved to straddle him, he rumbled deeply in approval. Simply her weight on him had his cock throbbing. Damn, he had it bad.
Their kisses intensified, and his need to touch her, skin to skin, peaked. He shoved her dress up a fraction, smoothing his palm from the inside of her knee, over her thigh to grip her hip. The fabric of her dress gathered at his touch, exposing her lower half to him. His other hand spanned her back, loving the definition of the muscles there. All of that swimming, he was sure. Her nimble hands untied his tie and started working on his shirt, but swiftly, he flipped her onto the generous length of the bench seat. His eager mouth dipped to her neck again, biting and sucking the skin there with fervor. Her hands were in his hair, tugging and pulling at his locks softly, and that might be his favorite thing. When she had no words, but showed him with her touch what he was doing to her. How he was making her feel. With a growl, he bucked against her hips, just once, but firmly.
He needed more.
But he felt her fingers tapping, bringing him back to her from his haze of arousal.
Fitz quirked a brow at her, unsure of why she was stopping him when she was so obviously on board physically. But he realized she wasn't through talking. Olivia Pope couldn't be all in sexually if there were still words in her mouth. It was hard to moan around those thoughts.
And just like that, she knew. He hadn't even said a word and she knew what he was thinking. But it was how he felt. What would they do if down the road, once their lives had truly began together in Vermont, she started to resent him for her decision to give up OPA? She could say the same about him if Congress accepted his offer to resign, but to him that felt different. To him, all the power, all the influence of thr presidency meant nothing if he couldn't have her. A life without her wasn't worth living, and that was why he was so willing to let it go to be with her. She could thrive in her career without him, he was sure.
She was the strong one, in his opinion.
Fitz furrowed his brow and tried, hard, to put on his game face. To wash out the exposure of what he was feeling. But he had tells, and she knew them. All of them. She read him like a goddamned book, which was both annoying and heartfelt to him. He lost the battle and his frown ran deep across his mouth, the ego stroke from her body on his fading fast and everything else flooding in. God, they really had shit to work through.
He tried to elaborate, to explain his stance and how he was feeling about it, but she kept interrupting him. Sighing softly in frustration, he shifted his body and moved off of her, sitting beside her and draping her legs across his lap. He was hot. His skin was surely flushed, for more than one reason. The guilt and shame came through his skin, heating it red and stinking up the room. It was the beginning of everything they felt coming out in the open, something that would take time and patience to work through. He listened, but his jaw clenched as the guilt she was saying he shouldn't feel rose up and filled him anyway. He waited a beat to make sure she was finished before he spoke.
"You're making it seem like I'm innocent in all this and you know I'm not. I'm the one who cheated, Livvie. I'm the one who kept pulling you back, regardless of how much you pushed me away. You've blamed me for things that I've done, whether you knew the reasons or not. We've both wronged each other, but that's over. We're both owed this life together. But don't try to tell me that I'm not to blame. You're about to be put through the ringer, and yes, that's my fault. If you give up OPA before you're ready, it will be because of me, and one day, you'll resent that. You'll resent that you gave up your career and talent for me."
He wanted to look away, but knew she wouldn't allow it. They preferred the opportunity to read the other's face when they communicated, especially in moments like that. Where their expressions might say even more than their words had, despite their newfound openness with each other.
He couldn't hide from her anymore. He was tired of hiding.
/
"We're a two way street, Fitz. Yes, you cheated but like I said, you've always left the final say to me. You always give me an out. Our first night together, you told me to go in my room and I didn't. You told me that you were letting me go in the restaurant but I didn't want you to. Every time you reached out for me, I was reaching back so my resenting you? That's not going to happen. I'm not Mellie, Fitzgerald. I'm not going to push away my part in us just because it's easy...well, at least not anymore. Not on purpose. We're going to split the blame that we've earned 50/50."
Olivia watched as his face softened slowly with each word that she spoke and she felt the regret bubble up again. He had been hurt so badly by so many people. So many people, including herself, had projected their own insecurities and self loathing onto him that he now expected to be blamed. Just like her. They shared that same expectation, that same sadness and she vowed to do her utmost to banish it from both of their spirits. She would ask him to help her and make it clear that she was there for him, too. Love was about support as well as protection, after all...
She grasped his hands. She loved his hands. They were big and warm, strong but tender. His hands could hold an ax to split wood. His hands could hold a pen to paper, signing and redrafting bills for his country. His hands held his children, would curl into fists to defend them and all of those he loved. Those hands caressed her skin, played with her hair, adored her flaws and all and she certainly did have flaws. Deep flaws and raging demons inside of her that were long overdue to be addressed. She would do it, not just for them but for herself. She had spent so much of her life alone and sad, internalizing every slight, every criticism. She had taught herself not to trust, not to believe in anything that she couldn't predict or control. She had existed but she hadn't lived. She wanted to live, now. Olivia wanted to have a full life, filled with ups and downs that weren't so extreme. She just...she wanted to be happy and for that to happen, things would have to change, including…
"As for OPA, I've been meaning to close it, anyway. I'm good at what I do, the best but...it doesn't make me happy, anymore. It never did, to be honest and these last two years, with one bad thing after the other after the other happening to me, to my Gladiators...the risk isn't worth the reward, anymore. Harrison's dead. Abby's doing well with you, thank God but she was circling the drain. I don't even know what Huck and Quinn are. I just know that the both of them in a bad place needing help. I lost you in the wake of Defiance. We got back together and promptly hit the skids again because neither of us know how to just talk to each other when it matters. You leaked my name and all hell broke loose, Rowan came back into my life and helped me be my own worst enemy to suit his purposes. There were the disasters with Jake and Russell. I got kidnapped and...I will get another job, Fitz. If no one will hire me, I'll make one of my own. Maybe I'll keep Fixing on a smaller scale but as for OPA? No. I'm done. I'll protect my People like I should've when I left for the Island but...even if this didn't happen right now, even if we were still apart, I'd shut it down. I need to. I can't Fix people when I can't even Fix myself. I used the Clients as a crutch and a distraction so I wouldn't have to deal with my issues and I can't do that anymore. If I want to have a real shot at being happy again, if we're going to work like we deserve to, then I need to face my demons head on and either get rid of them altogether or learn how to cope with them in a healthy way."
/
He scoffed a little, shaking his head. Before all of it was said and done and they were settled, finally, he knew they would end up screaming at each other, crying, fucking, and making love until all of their feelings were on the table. They weren't screaming yet, but Fitz sure felt like it. They were digging up hurt that he had long since forced himself to bury. It was forcing its way back up from his gut where it had been hidden beneath his swollen pride. Pride that was slowly deflating.
He listened. When she was on a roll, and clearly she was, he had learned to let her finish before he interrupted her. Even if the interruption was to call her out on her bullshit. She had some good points. Yes, he had almost always given her an out. He had never held her within the confines of their relationship against her will. And usually, yes, she was there on the other end, even if distantly, mirroring his affection. But that wasn't always true. She had chosen Olivia Pope and Associates over him before. She had bolted when they had been right on the precipice of being together. She was right. OPA had a way of destroying things. Of opening them up to vulnerabilities that they didn't see right away. And she cited excellent examples, to include her kidnapping. He didn't miss the way she paused there, and he made a note to press her about that later. There were things that had happened to them over time that they hadn't deal with. That they hadn't gotten over.
But he wasn't sure he believed her. He wanted to. God, he wanted to, but they had been here before. This time was different because they had announced to the public that they were together, that they were in love, but she could just as easily run if she got scared. She could bolt in the night and leave him with nothing but humiliation and heartache. Things had to be different or they would sink before they had even began to sail. She had said it. That the needed to face her demons head on and cope with them properly.
But would she? Or would she resort to old habits to save herself from the pain?
"Reaching back?" He almost laughed at the absurdity of her statement. Every time he had reached out she had been reaching back? It was bitter hilarity.
It was a lie.
"So before I ran for a second term, you ran from me and chose to go back to OPA. When I was willing to give it all up for you. You ran. That was reaching back?" he asked, his mouth almost sneering at her. "I'll take half of the blame. I'll take more than half, but you're not going to sit here and honestly tell me that every time I asked you to be with me you were all in. That's a lie and we both know it."
If she wanted to take some blame, he was going to make sure she took ownership of things she had actually done. She left him. Over and over. One could argue that 'fixing' wasn't the only thing she was good at. Leaving. She was excellent at leaving him when things got rough. When he needed her the most.
He'd rather die than watch her leave him again. That, he knew.
Fitz stood, needing the space, and walked over to the hidden compartment in the wall that opened to a small liquor cabinet. When she was touching him, he lost his thoughts. He knew that he wouldn't be able to say how he really felt when she was touching him. His jaw was clenched hard, surely to ache later, as he poured himself three fingers of scotch. It was normal for him to want to drown his feelings in the alcohol. All of the things he didn't want to feel.
"You run, Livvie. It's what you do." He sipped at his glass. "You ran from being Press Secretary. You ran back to OPA when we had a plan to be together. You ran after Gerry died."
Then he looked over at her, his cobalt eyes brimming with tears. Yes, he was angry. Yes, he was scared and frustrated, at her, at all of it. But beneath all of that was the hurt that had compiled over the years. The ache that so many of her actions had caused him. The pain that he was afraid he would end up feeling all over again if their relationship went belly up.
/
Her ego smarted at his confrontational tone but Olivia ignored the urge to snap back at him. It wouldn't do them an ounce of good and it wasn't like he was wrong. She did run away, time and time again, mainly without any warning and with a martyred, joy phobic excuse at the ready. Fitz had been trying to be with her openly and she found a way to ruin it every time. She would get in her own way. She would take the easy way out. She would...
Not anymore. It was time to stand her ground and right now, she didn't need to be defensive. She needed to be honest. Honesty would be the only thing that would get through the hurt he justly felt, the anger and disappointment.
"You're right. I do run. I deflect, I run, and I hurt people before they can hurt me. I assume the worst of people and I assumed the worst of you. That's why I ran from being your Press Secretary. That's why I sabotaged our first plan to be together."
"Why did you run when Gerry died? You knew that I would need you and you ran. Not only did you run, you didn't even say goodbye. I thought something horrible had happened to you, Olivia. I thought that Rowan or your mother or some new psychopath had gotten a hold to you and I'd end up hearing a police report about you being torn apart on the side of a road."
"And then you found out that I left willingly. That's...that's why you..."
She couldn't even finish the sentence. Ever since Tom had told her about his visit to her apartment looking for her and what happened afterwards...she knew that it wasn't all her fault. He had grieving his son, his son that had been so cruelly, painfully stolen from him but...he had thought she was dead. He had thought that someone had taken her life and finding out that she was alive, finding out that she was gone from a secondhand source...she had done the wrong thing when she left for the Island. She had known that from the time she made the decision but…
"I wasn't thinking about anyone but myself. What else is new? I focused on my fears, on my shame, and I thought that leaving OPA, leaving you...I thought you all would be better off without me. Everyone was being targeted and I set the ball in motion when I tried to take down B613 the first time. Rowan got the idea in his head that you had tainted me, stolen me, so he retaliated in the worst way he could think of. I know that what he did, what he ordered Tom to do was not my fault. You told me that it wasn't my fault but...I wasn't thinking. I was running. Again. And then, I didn't leave alone..."
"I don't care about that, Olivia."
That was a lie. That was a bald faced lie and they both knew it. He was trying to be comforting. He was still angry at her but her honesty, the long overdue honesty she was showing him was softening him again. Normally, she'd end the conversation where it was, distracting him with a change of subject or a kiss but she couldn't. Not yet. She had to explain. She had to make him understand why she had taken Jake with her, why she had remained with Jake after she returned for so long. It wasn't because she loved him. Absolutely not. She would admit to having feelings for Jake, to caring deeply about him but never love. He was a surrogate for the man she really loved, a stop gap measure to keep Rowan from hurting the man in front of her, her father's minion that she could control but he was never her love. Jake Ballard had gotten her body but not her heart. No matter how much he had wanted it, no matter how many times he told her that he loved her, Olivia just couldn't give him her heart. She had...she had used him to hide, to deflect, and to run away once again...
Fitz still didn't know that, though. He thought that she had taken Jake, chosen Jake out of love. She had to make him understand...
"Yes, you do. I left with Jake. I wasn't planning to. He showed up at my place and he wouldn't leave and I felt like I had to save someone. I had already failed in everything else. Saving people is what I do and I know you needed me but...I just couldn't face you. My parents killed your firstborn. Maya and Rowan would've never targeted you that way if you didn't love me and if I didn't love you and I do love you. I do. My actions don't always reflect it but I do love you. I'm just not very good at it, is all."
"...you weren't reaching back for me, Olivia. You were letting me chase you and you...maybe you were reaching back in your heart but your actions, your words..."
"I understand. You don't trust me like you used to, which makes complete sense. If I were you, I would've given up on me a long time ago. You'd probably be better off if you..."
"You don't get to decide that, Olivia! I'm not a child that you can choose what's best for me without even considering my choices! Maybe I am better off without you and hell, maybe you're better off without me! Well, no maybe about it, now..."
"Don't say that! I told you that it's not your fault and I love you and...and...oh, god. This is what I did to you. You always left final say to me but I never let you...damn it!"
The tears she had been holding at bay finally fell and she hid her face in her hands, unable to look at him as she sobbed. If she was hurt from him saying it once, then he must've felt devastated every time she undervalued their connection, demeaned the love he showed her as nothing but a pie in the sky dream or just lust. She had steamrolled over his feelings, his agency to protect herself. She said it was to protect him and his Administration but that just wasn't true. Hindsight was 20/20 and looking back on all the times she had left, she could see so many other ways she could've Handled things, They could've Handled things. If she had just talked to him, if she had just listened to him and heard him, if she had only asked for his help...she had done it with Clients. She had asked for their input and then took it into account with solving their problems. Why hadn't she been able to do it with Fitz?
She already knew the answer to that question and it made a neat circle back to her issues. She hadn't asked or cared about what he wanted because what he wanted would have them together openly for sure, which she wanted desperately but didn't think she deserved. She didn't think that she deserved to be happy. She didn't think that she was worthy of being loved, of being sacrificed for. She had been afraid that he would leave her or...resent her for giving up his career, just like he was worried about her resenting him, now. And he certainly had reason to fear her leaving him again because that was her MO with him. She had done it so many times before and he didn't trust her fully but he still trusted her enough to have her with him, now. He still trusted her enough to not only sign divorce papers but to go out in front of an international audience and claim her, praise her, love her.
She could still leave him.
She could still run away again and break his heart again.
She could...but she wouldn't.
No more running.
No more lying.
It was time to stand her ground, to fight, to...
He sat back down next to her and she raised her head to look at him. He was still upset, very upset but he wiped her tears away with tender fingertips, tender eyes. She leaned into the touch and rested her head on his shoulder, shuddering with emotion.
"Fitz, I..."
"We'll talk more later, Livvie."
"But, I still need to explain..."
"We have time, Livvie. We have time for all of it, now. You're overwhelmed right now and so am I. We'll talk more later."
"...okay. I...I want to talk later. I really do. Bad things happen when we don't talk and I don't want to make the same mistakes anymore. I want to make new ones."
A beat and then, Olivia smiled shakily as Fitz's chest rumbled with laughter, closing her eyes as he held her tighter. She was glad for it and it was proof that they were already stronger together. In the past, a blowout like this would have them sullen and separate, Olivia planning her retreat and Fitz resigned to it. The fact that he was holding her and that Olivia had no plans to leave, wasn't even thinking about leaving was good.
No, not good.
It was great.
/
Most men wouldn't be thankful for arguments with their lovers, but believe it or not, Fitz was. In the past, they had thrown a few one-liners around, handed out an emotion filled monologue and kept it moving. This was good. Different. Progress. They were touching the tip of the oh-so-chilled iceberg that was their problems. They could scream and yell at each other for days, and while in the short term it might make him feel terrible, he would still be thankful for it. Whatever it took for her, for them, to get their feelings laid out on the table so they could work through them. Hell, he'd let her hit him if it would help. He was desperate to make it work with her.
She was everything.
And she was acknowledging her pattern of running.
He pressed her further and dug in. She left him when he had been so vulnerable. Right after Gerry had been taken from him. The loss of two of the most important people in his life. How did she expect him to survive that?
There it was.
She was realizing, piecing it together, that he almost hadn't survived it. That yes, she did play a role in the little melodrama that featured his suicide attempt.
He nodded, letting her know that he understood where she was going with it. She didn't have to say it. Not yet. It seemed like she was just as afraid to talk about it as he was. Talking about it made it real. Finding out she had left, on her own accord instead of somehow against her will, had been the straw that broke his aching back. With her, he could have weathered the storm of losing Gerry much easier. In her company, he would have grieved in healthier ways. That, he knew. But in her absence, he had fallen into one of the darkest places he had ever visited. The pitch black corners of his depressed mind swallowed him.
He had almost killed himself.
If Mellie hadn't found him that night, they wouldn't even be on Marine One having their
conversation.
He could see her mindset, the line of thinking she had followed that had led to her leaving. He didn't agree, but he could see it. Her logic. Logic that was normally nearly flawless, but clearly it had failed her with that decision. She had been wrong.
Fitz was far from better off without her.
He lied through his teeth about not caring that she had left alone, and rightfully, she called him out on it. She knew how incredibly jealous he had been of Jake. Of any other man who had touched her since they began their relationship. And frankly, plenty of those jealous and possessive feelings still stewed under the surface, threatening to spill forth at any time. They both knew that. But he wasn't sure that he believed her reasons for taking Jake with her. Maybe that was just the bitterness talking. He couldn't say for sure. But it still didn't settle well with him, those thoughts of her and Jake, together, out of his reach and control. If he had thought it was what she really wanted, it wouldn't bother him quite so much. However, Fitz knew better. He knew who she loved. Just as she kept saying it right then, he knew, and he nodded. No, she wasn't very good at showing it.
She would have to work on that.
Just as there were plenty of things he would have to work on and deal with. That piping hot jealousy, for one.
And he told her like it was. She hadn't reached back to grasp his waiting hand. She simply hadn't, and it left him with fractured trust. He loved her, desperately, but she would have to prove to him that she was in, all in, this time. No exceptions. No running. No loopholes that gave her a justifiable reason to kick off her shoes and get gone.
They were done with that.
And there it was.
They both thought the other would be better off without them.
God, they were two incredibly fucked up people. No wonder no one else would have them. No one else could have them. They were two broken toys, only functional when placed together.
She stopped talking then, her tears taking over, after threatening to spill for too long. Somehow, he had held his at bay, but when he retook his seat beside of her, his thumbs gently wiping the drops from her cheeks, he blinked and they trickled down his face
silently. He took her into his embrace, letting her curl into his side.
They would talk later.
In short bursts, they would handle it. They would work through their problems and make it out fine on the other side.
"New mistakes?" He chuckled, the sound low in his chest, vibrating against her head where it rested on his shoulder. "Okay," he agreed.
New mistakes, he could do. Constantly rehashing old and repetitive mistakes, he was done with.
"I've told you before, there's nothing you could do that I wouldn't forgive. I have forgiven you…I just haven't forgotten."
They could feel the helicopter descending, letting them know that they were arriving at their destination. Their home. The house he had built for her. Where they would spend the rest of their lives together.
Fitz pulled her into his lap, her body draped across him. His arms wrapped around her and flexed, squeezing her in a secure, but not binding, hug. Letting her know that he was there to support her, to comfort her in all things, even if the thing she needed to be comforted about was himself.
"I know we have a lot to talk through, but we'll be fine," he assured her, pressing a kiss to her temple sweetly. "I love you."