Author's Note: Good afternoon, everyone. And now for the inevitable Scandal WIP. I've resisted the urge and my Muses long enough.
One of the main turning points on the show is when Olivia yields and gets all up in the Defiance plot. She had a choice to make and in my opinion, she chose wrong. Granted, I'm biased and I've never been in a situation like that with pressure coming from all sides warring with devotion to someone but…this plot bunny will not leave me be. It just won't and although there are a lot of fics like this out there, I want to play too. The poem cited at the beginning and in the title is by Robert Frost and I promise you all right now that Olitz will be getting an HEA by the end of this. They deserve it.
Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
20
"…let's not play innocent here. Fitz is clean. Fitz walks on water. Fitz makes the fishes and the loaves, and people like Hollis, me, and you...don't roll your eyes at me. You are one of us Olivia. We march behind him, we sing his happy tune. And then we pick up our hatchets and we chop the Judases into bloody little pieces and dance around the corpses because that's our job. That is what we do. We take care of Fitz. And we don't do it because we are believers, which we are. We don't do it for the rush or the high or the power, which we are most certainly junkies for. We do it because Fitz can't. He can't do it. If he could do it, we wouldn't worship at his altar. People like Fitz, they go down in history. People like us, we create the history. We run this world so he can lead..."
Olivia Pope watched as color drained from his face and clenched her fists hard to suppress the urge to reach for him, to comfort him like she had on that stump. He may not want her comfort, anymore. Governor Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III may not want her comfort and her deep, near senseless loyalty anymore. This…coming to him was the right thing to do. She knew it was. She could not in good conscience stand in front of him, take off her clothes for him, listen to him, advise and nurture him both politically and otherwise without him knowing about the brewing scheme.
Hollis Doyle, Verna Thornton, Mellie Grant (his fucking wife, of all people…), and Cyrus Beene had a Plan. The Plan centered in Defiance, Ohio. Hollis had access to the voting machines there. He could and was foaming at the mouth to rig those machines to show a Grant victory, possibly clenching the upcoming election and putting him in 1600 Penn where he belonged, where he ached to be, where he had been raised to be, where the country needed him.
But, it would be stealing. It would be the Lufthansa Heist of 2008. Olivia knew that politics weren't supposed to be squeaky clean. Fuck, her livelihood was shaping up to become Fixing the messes of the powerful but…even she who dwelled in shades of gray had a limit.
Covering up a senator's drug fueled threesome at a frat party or a governor's wife's toe-sucking lover was one thing.
This…Defiance was a completely different animal. It was an animal and beast that she was not willing to tame and ride. It was disgustingly wrong. It would be a betrayal of every value she had been taught, of the American People, of...
"Fitz. Fitz? Fitz, please say something…"
His normally bright and sharp cerulean slate eyes were unseeing, the thousand yard stare looking right through her, his face completely placid. Swallowing hard, she walked over and knelt down, her head resting on his knee like a child looking for comfort. She pretty much was…
"They put it up to a vote, actually. They said…they said that without a unanimous agreement, they'd drop the whole thing but…even though I said no, even though I said hell no to Cyrus and Mellie before literally running down the hallway, I don't think it's off the table. Each of them has something to gain from you getting in office and they want it. They want it bad and they want it all and no one's gonna stop them…"
"I will."
Olivia shivered at the icy steel in his voice and she looked up. His face was still placid but his cheeks were flushed cranberry red and his eyes were burning navy flame. Against her will, she started to scoot away from him but his left hand snapped forward and clasped firmly on her shoulder.
"We will."
"We?" she breathed in hopeful disbelief
"You really think you can drop this bomb on me and run?"
Frowning at his accusing tone, she jerked out of his grip and stood up.
"Of course not! I just…I figured that you wouldn't want anything to do with me, anymore because I was involved too. I knew about the Plan practically from the start, Cyrus made sure of that, and even though I opted out, I'm still the whistleblower."
"A whistleblower who risked everything to clue me in. A whistleblower that climbed up a drainpipe and over a 4th story balcony in flannel pajamas…"
"They're cotton plaid, not flannel…" she corrected while sheepishly fussing with her black zip up hoodie sleeve
"…in cotton plaid pajamas at 2 in the morning to come tell me the whole truth. The others say they believe in me but you're the only one that means it. I need you now more than ever, Livvie. I don't know how to handle this. My first instinct is to go after all of them with a divorce lawyer and an AK-47 but I don't think that would be very politically sound."
"Not to mention that crazed AK-47 wielding is just as illegal as five finger discounting a presidential election…wait, a divorce lawyer?"
"If Mellie expects me to stay with her after this, she's in for a rude awakening."
"Fitz…"
He smirked and advanced on her slowly, pressing her against the interior wall between the closet and the bathroom.
"My marriage is dead, Livvie. You said that when you tore me a new one in front of a high school gymnasium full of campaign workers and Jesus before you even told me your name."
"I didn't tear you a new one. I just told you my honest and completely accurate assessment of what was going wrong with the campaign that you were asking for, by the way. Fitz, a divorce is…you can't…um…"
His teeth nipped at her earlobe and she gasped, instinctively clutching at his shoulders.
"I'm doing it, Olivia. Whether you're there in the aftermath or not, I'm ending my marriage. I'd very much prefer if you were there, though but you already know that don't you, Sweet Baby?"
Yes, she did. She truly did and she'd be lying if she said that she didn't want to be there but the repercussions…
"You're a bastard…you don't play fair…"
"Yes, I am and no, I don't. I'm a politician and a Grant. What do you want, Olivia?"
"It doesn't matter." she deflected while pushing him off of her.
He caught her wrists and held her hands to his chest.
"It does matter. Do you want to be with me? Do you love me?"
"Fitz…"
"Do you?"
"…yes…"
"Good. We'll figure the rest out as we go."