Author's Note I: I realized that I've been teasing you all about Naomi's relationship with Fitz for months now and hadn't yet written it down. So, here it is. And yes, this is probably the longest one-shot I've ever quote used in the title comes from Google; if you know its exact source, please feel free to share it with me so that I can credit them. Enjoy and review (but only if you actually have something kind and/or constructive to say. No pointless hate in the reviews, please!).

June 1988

Naomi Scott despised parties. She had since she was a little girl, and her opinions had yet to change. Getting dressed up and wearing three-inch heels while standing for hours on end to talk to people who wouldn't remember her name by the end of the night was not her idea of fun, and she would much rather spend her time reading than kissing the asses of a bunch of 'traditional' men who believed that it was completely appropriate to have a wandering eye in front of their wives if their eyes only wandered towards the unattainable. As a member of the Scott Republican Dynasty, Naomi was the definition of unattainable.

Her mother did this to her every year. Eugenie would call her up late one evening and ask her to come home for the summer so that the entire family could be together, but Naomi had learned during that first summer break from college that her mother's main goal was to find her a husband. She had chosen to pursue a career as a psychologist, and neither of her parents were onboard with her decision. Her family was royalty in the political world. Her ancestors had settled Jamestown, defeated the British, and battled for the North. Her great-great-grandmother had been a prolific suffragette throughout her life, and her great-grandfather had died during the Great War after saving dozens of his fellow soldiers. Her grandfather had followed in his father's footsteps by joining the Army and lost both of his legs while serving in the European theater before going on to serve as a United States Senator for four terms. When her father had married her mother in 1966, thousands of people had lined up outside of the church. Her birth announcement in 1968 had made the front page of newspapers across the globe. The Scott family was known for two things: strength and poise. In the eyes of Naomi's mother, psychologists lacked both qualities. Unfortunately for Eugenie, the worst thing she could have said was the thing that she did. Naomi was as stubborn as the women who had been hauled away to prison and mistreated for their outrage at the injustice of the world. She wanted to be a psychologist to help people, but she also wanted to prove her mother wrong. Those two reasons ensured that she would succeed at whatever she wanted to do.

Because there was still a small part of her that longed for her mother's approval, Naomi had agreed to attend a party that her parents were hosting for prolific Republicans working within and representing California on a national scale. One of these individuals was Fitzgerald Grant II, a United States Senator with one of the most obvious wandering eyes on the planet. He had taken an interest to Naomi the moment she passed the age of consent, and while there was a part of her that wanted to haul off and punch him for the suggestive comments that he too often made, she simply coached herself through each interaction with him by keeping a smile on her face and heading immediately to the bar after excusing herself from his company. When she caught sight of him that day, however, she simply veered in the direction of the bar after deciding she was too exhausted to hold her tongue. With that decision, she unknowingly set in motion a large part of the rest of her life.

The bar in her parents' parlor was mostly empty, but there was one gentleman sitting on a barstool, his back to her. She knew who he was, of course; only someone living under a rock would have been unaware. Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, Senator Grant's pride and joy and one of the nation's many beloved heroes hailing from the Navy, was sipping on scotch when she approached. Too exasperated by the men in the other room to turn around and run the other way, Naomi simply slipped onto the barstool next to his and ordered a gin and tonic from the passing bartender. She kept her eyes straight ahead until the man next to her began to speak. The first words out of his mouth stunned her more than she had imagined they would.

"The next time my father leers at you, feel free to hit him. It's completely inappropriate, Miss Scott, and I apologize for his behavior. I'd love to say that he'll change one of these days, but the tabloids aren't that far off from the truth." He finished off his drink and gestured to the passing bartender for another. "You're in your own home; you shouldn't have to feel uncomfortable here." He nodded to the bartender in thanks when both beverages were brought out to them. "No matter what my father says, women are worth more than what's underneath their skirts."

"Thank you," Naomi replied quietly, her eyes focused on the glass in front of her. "How did you know that there was even a problem? I managed to avoid him today."

"There's always a problem," Grant muttered back. "He's not exactly known for being a man that accepts the word 'no' as an answer. There are charges against him that no one talks about but everyone knows are there. And you flinched when you caught sight of us walking by you the last time that we were here. It wasn't a hard conclusion to reach."

"Well, I appreciate your honesty," Naomi replied shakily. "I'm also having a hard time believing that you are indeed his son."

"I took after my mother. She left after the first charges were filed, tried to gain full custody when they were buried. He destroyed her," Grant explained. "He has a long history of destroying women. I'm just doing my best to ensure that no one else gets added to that disturbingly long list."

"Well, you're doing a good job of it." She smiled slightly as she extended her hand in his direction. "I'm Naomi. If you call me Miss Scott again, you are not allowed to hold me responsible for my actions, all right?"

Grant chuckled before accepting her hand in his and shaking it firmly. "Understood. It's nice to meet you, Naomi. You can call me Fitz."

"All right then," Naomi replied with a nod. "It's nice to meet you as well, Fitz. Now, what is that that you are drinking? I'm going to need something stronger if I have to deal with that group for the rest of the evening."

Fitz chuckled. "Scotch, the good kind," he answered, gesturing to the bartender.

A beautiful friendship was born with the utterance of two sentences. What it would endure would amaze even those aware of how it got its start.

June 1989

A year after her first meeting with Fitzgerald Grant, Naomi once again found herself in a cocktail dress at a party in her parents' parlor. This time, though, she had a support system.

"This is straight vodka, and you should drink it before you order someone to cut off Congressmen Masters' head," Fitz murmured into her ear as he pressed a glass full of clear liquid into her hand. He took a sip of his own drink and leaned back against the bar so that he was facing her. "At least Gerry isn't here."

"Thank God for small miracles, right?" she muttered back, downing her beverage in one gulp.

Fitz smirked, his eyes full of mischief. "How much do you actually want to be here at this moment?"

"Not even ten percent," she replied honestly, gesturing to the bartender for another drink. "Why?"

"Come with me."

Fifteen minutes later, they were walking along the creek on the edge of her parents' property, her pumps dangling from her fingertips as she dug her toes into the muddy earth. "Momma and Daddy are going to kill me if I beat their guests to the front door," she laughed, spinning away from a puddle and almost running into Fitz. "This is not the proper way for a lady to behave, Fitz Grant."

"When have you ever cared about proper?" Fitz teased, taking her hand in his and spinning her in a circle. "You're adventurous at your core, Naomi. You always have been. It's what makes you who you are."

"And you like who I am?" Naomi questioned, pausing to lay down on the grass in her extremely expensive cocktail dress and pulling him down next to her.

"I adore who you are, Naomi Scott."

That was the moment that it all started to change.

May 1990

"You did it!" Those were the first words that Fitz spoke as Naomi hurried over to him after graduating from Berkeley with her undergraduate's degree in Psychology. He lifted her in the air and spun her in a circle, laughing along with her for several moments before he put her down. "I told you that you'd make it, didn't I?"

"You did," Naomi admitted begrudgingly. "What, you going to hold that over my head every time you see me now?" she teased, linking her arm through his and allowing herself to be led out of the auditorium.

"I would never," Fitz replied, covering her hand with his as they walked. "You do know that we have to celebrate?"

"I still have four more years, my friend. Four more years." Naomi leaned her head against his shoulder. "But if you want to buy me pizza, I will certainly not object. That wouldn't be ladylike at all." She smirked up at him when he snorted. "I missed you, Grant."

"I missed you too, Scott."

They did go out for pizza, and Naomi ate way too many calories in one sitting as they discussed everything from politics to the weather. They avoided the topics of their parents throughout the conversation, something that Naomi was sure that they were both thankful for. The only problem was that the parlor they chose to dine at served alcohol, which, combined with a lot of unspoken feelings and even more unvoiced fears, was not a good addition to the discussion.

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

It was a muttered string of words, one that could have been spurred on by the glass of scotch in between his fingertips, and Naomi should have ignored it. She would've been better off if she had ignored it. But she was Naomi, and she didn't ignore anything, even if it pained her.

"I know," she murmured back. "But you can't."

His eyes were bleary as he glanced up from his plate. "Why?"

"Because I'd destroy you, Fitz."

They didn't say anything else throughout the rest of the meal. They didn't need to. Everything had been said.

It was in that moment that they began to break.

January 1991

It had been months since she had seen him, but something told her to go to his apartment despite the frigid temperatures. Her gut was proven right the moment that she used her key to open his apartment door. There were beer cans strewn everywhere, and glass from a broken scotch bottle littered the hardwood floors. There was a lump on the sofa that smelled strongly of alcohol, and Naomi drew in a deep breath as she made her way over to the piece of furniture and squatted next to it. She shook the lump slightly, breathing out in relief when Fitz's head poked over the blanket.

"You're living like a slob, Fitz Grant," she scolded lightly, brushing his curls away from his face with her hand. "And you smell like an open bottle of the strong stuff."

"What are you doing here?" he mumbled drunkenly, not even bothering to shift into a sitting position. "I haven't seen you in months."

"I know, but I figured…" She trailed off, unsure of what to say. "Your father told my parents that you had been home for a week, and I got concerned when I didn't hear from you," she tried to explain.

Fitz scoffed. "Why would I call you, Naomi? The last time I saw you, you told me not to fall in love with you. I think you made your intentions pretty clear. So why the hell are you still here? Why don't you just leave?"

Naomi's eyes darkened. "Because the pity party you're throwing yourself isn't healthy. Because I don't know why you're living this way. Because no matter what we are or what we've been, you're my best friend in this world, and I am not going to let you drink yourself to death in this crappy apartment. So you get off your ass right this moment, Fitz Grant, before I kick it into gear." Her voice softened when his eyes met hers. "Just because I told you that you shouldn't fall in love with me doesn't mean I don't love you, Fitz. Please don't do this to me."

He blinked tired at her. "I'm exhausted, Naomi."

"I know. We all are. But you have to fight, Fitz. You owe the world that much. You owe yourself that much." She glanced around the apartment. "What could have been this bad?"

"You don't want to know," he muttered, turning away slightly.

"I'm on your side," Naomi murmured, resting a hand on his back. "I'm always going to be on your side."

"I know. That's what gets me through," was his simple reply.

Maybe they weren't so broken, after all.

June 1991

"So," Naomi dragged out as she adjusted her earrings, "These guys are all your Navy buddies?" When Fitz nodded, she narrowed her eyes slightly. "Are they claiming that I'm your imaginary friend or something?"

"No," Fitz laughed as he helped her into her coat. "They wanted to meet you. I just figured this would be the best atmosphere for it." He held out his arm and smiled when she linked hers through it. "I think some of them are in love with you. I can be your wingman." His smile this time was slightly bitter.

"Fitz," she began, but he cut her off before she could get any further into the same apology she had given dozens of times.

"Don't worry about it, Nai. I've adapted." The sad thing was that he had. To make her comfortable, he had hidden away everything that he felt. That was what made her hate herself the most.

Many of his Navy buddies did hit on her, but there was one that didn't. He was her favorite, of course. In her life, men that didn't flirt were the kind of men to keep around. Also, he became too much like a little brother to her within the first minute of their interaction for her to see him as anything else.

"Jake, are you ever going to settle down?" she asked fifteen minutes into their conversation.

Fitz nearly spit out his drink, but the man in question simply laughed. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "Not everybody just knows, Naomi."

"Sometimes you do," Naomi replied softly, using every ounce of her willpower not to glance at the man next to her. "Sometimes you do."

January 1993

"So, are we going to go get coffee or doughnuts this morning? I'm more partial to pastries, but if you're buying, I am not going to argue either way…"

"I'm seeing somebody."

The words were rushed, so rushed that Naomi almost didn't think she'd heard him correctly at first. One look at his face informed her that she had.

She drew in a deep breath. "Oh."

"I didn't want to make a big deal out of it," Fitz hurried to explain. "You don't ever make a big deal out of it, so I didn't want to…" She trailed off, unsure of what to say. "Her name's Mellie. She's a lawyer. You'll, uh, you'll like her, Nai."

"I'm sure that I will," Naomi replied softly, nodding at him once. "Do you love her?"

"I think I could."

When she smiled, she tried to do so without letting the tears in her eyes trickle down her cheeks. "Then I'm happy for you."

"You are?"

"Of course."

He would never know just how much of herself she gave away by making that assurance.

January 1994

She and Jake were out for drinks for one of the first times since he had returned from his most recent tour. He was talking about the girl who had most recently caught his eye, but she was completely unfocused on what was being said. Finally, the man seated across from her sighed and nudged her arm with his chilled glass. "What's up, Nai?"

"He's going to marry her," she informed him tonelessly. "Fitz. He's going to marry Mellie."

"That's what you wanted him to do," Jake reminded her gently. "You pushed him away, Naomi."

"I know," she replied softly. "I just didn't expect it to hurt this much."

Neither one of them said much for the remainder of the night.

March 1995

Naomi had managed to graduate earlier than she had anticipated, something that she was extremely grateful for. She let herself into Fitz's apartment late one afternoon with a smile on her face and made her way towards the kitchen, where she could hear movement. "I did it!" she announced, her smile wavering slightly when she caught sight of the other woman in the room. "Hi, Mellie," she greeted politely, pasting a smile on her face as she reminded herself that the other woman wasn't her enemy.

"Hi, Naomi," Mellie greeted, her eyes full of friendship and hope. Naomi couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as she read the other woman's expression. "Fitz, I think you should tell her by yourself. I'll see you later, all right?"

The man in question nodded, squeezing Mellie's hand as she walked out of the room. He drew in a deep breath as he met Naomi's eyes, and she felt everything within her break. "Nai…"

"You proposed," she stated evenly, already aware of what his answer would be. "You finally did it."

"I made a choice, Naomi," he murmured. "I had to."

"I know," Naomi replied softly. "I just didn't expect it to hurt this much."

The pain she felt in that moment would take years to ebb.

August 1995

It was a beautiful day for a wedding. As Naomi watched Fitz pledge the rest of his life to a woman that wasn't her, she only had to fight back tears once. She considered that to be an accomplishment.

Later that day, she left a note with Jake to be given to Fitz, ignoring the younger man's protests as she did so. It simply read: 'Congratulations to you and Mellie on your special day. I'm off to Germany; a position opened at Landstuhl. I'll miss you, Grant. N.S.'

November 1997

"Fitz, are you even aware of how late it is here?" Naomi questioned the moment that she picked up the phone on her nightstand.

"Mellie's pregnant."

Naomi drew in a deep breath. "I'm engaged," she admitted softly.

He chuckled weakly. "So we're both taking steps to be adults, huh?"

"Yeah," Naomi murmured. "Yeah, I suppose we are."

She broke off her engagement the next day. She didn't even offer Henry an explanation before she pressed the ring into his hand and brushed a kiss against his cheek. She didn't have one for herself; how could she possibly give one to him.

July 1998

Her godson was born at two-oh-five in the afternoon on the second day of July. Unlike his parents, not all the tears she shed were of joy.

January 2000

She married Paul Lundgren on New Year's Day. As Fitz walked her down the aisle, she tried fruitlessly to convince herself that she wasn't making a mistake. She never quite managed it, but if the newspaper articles were any indication, she proved to be a phenomenal actress.

July 2000

Paul was sleeping with his secretary after less than seven months of marriage. Naomi didn't know what it said about her that she didn't feel a thing as she filed for divorce. She was sure that it wasn't anything good.

Later that day, she climbed aboard a plane to meet Fitz's daughter for the first time. She tried not to feel guilty when Mellie looked at her with pain in her eyes and asked what had taken so long. She tried not to feel broken when the little girl that she had known only by name toddled in her direction and reached up towards her with eyes full of hope and a smile full of innocence. She tried, but she failed.

She flew back to Germany the following day.

September 2001

After the tragedy of the month, Naomi had no problem boarding a flight headed for the States. She laughed with Fitz and Jake as she had in the past, and when Fitz's two young children referenced her as their aunt, she felt a little less broken than she had before. Maybe she was going to be okay after all.

July 2002

Naomi flew back to the States to celebrate Gerry's fourth birthday. She tried to ignore the pensive stares that Fitz directed at Mellie. She tried to ignore the way that Mellie flinched when her father-in-law approached her. She tried to ignore the pain in Fitz's eyes when they met hers. She tried to ignore all of it. She also failed.

August 2002

Jake got married to a woman that neither she nor Fitz knew anything about. When she spoke to him on the phone afterwards, however, she was jealous of the genuine joy she heard in his tone.

She went to a bar later that night. It was there that she met Peter. As she let him guide her in the direction of his truck, she tried to convince herself that it was about time for another mistake. She also tried to convince herself that it meant nothing that she dialed Fitz's number as soon as she was back in her own home and her own clean clothes. She didn't do a very good job of it either time.

November 2002

Karen's third birthday party was just as tense as her brother's fourth had been. Once Fitz had taken the children up to bed, Naomi dragged Mellie into the backyard. "You have to tell him."

"What are you talking about?" Mellie asked defiantly, her eyes full of a pain that Naomi couldn't understand.

"Whatever Big Gerry did, you have to tell Fitz. He cares, Mellie. You have no idea how much he cares."

"I can't," Mellie replied, her voice breaking on the second word.

Naomi never brought it up again. Instead, she just watched her best friend slowly become a lesser version of the man she had met over a decade before. That broke her more than letting go of him ever had.

January 2005

When Peter proposed, she didn't even consider saying yes. When he had packed away all of his things and vacated her apartment, she dialed Jake, apologizing when she glanced at the clock and realized what time it was.

"I can't keep loving him," she murmured into the device she was cradling in her hand.

"Take it from the man with the dead wife, Naomi. You don't actually get a choice in the matter."

She already knew that. That was what made it so much worse.

January 2007

"You still haven't figured out how to tell time, have you?" she answered the phone, stirring more chocolate into the boiling pot of milk in front of her.

"I'm going to run for President."

She dropped the spoon, splattering herself with the scorching hot chocolate mixture in the process. She bit her lip to hold in an expletive before responding to her best friend.

"How can I help?"

May 2008

She flew in to help with the campaign. During her interactions with the campaign staff, she tried to ignore the expressions on Fitz's face as he darted glances in Olivia's direction. When Mellie had taken the children upstairs, she cornered her best friend with fire in her eyes.

"You cannot sleep with Olivia Pope, Fitz," she snapped at him.

"I'm falling in love with her, Naomi," he tried to explain.

"Don't. She'll destroy you." She turned on her heel and headed down the hall, but his voice stopped her.

"Like you would have?" His tone was angry.

"Yeah, Fitz. Exactly like I would have." This time when she turned around, she didn't look back.

When she climbed on a flight back to Germany the following day, she did so without hesitation. That was the last time that she and Fitz spoke for months.

November 2008

He had won. Fitz had won. As she watched the news reports scroll across the bottom of her screen in the privacy of her apartment in Germany, she had to force herself not to reach for her phone. She failed, of course, and the text she sent him was the first communication they had shared since May. It read simply: 'I'm proud of you, Grant. I miss you. N.S.'

And thus began a new chronicle of their lives.

December 2010

Receiving news that her best friend had been shot just weeks before the birth of his third child was not high on Naomi's bucket list. Her hands shook as she ended the phone call with Cyrus, and she boarded the flight to the States with a heavy heart. When he woke up, she cried. She didn't shed nearly as many tears as she did when she met his son for the first time.

"This is my new start," Fitz murmured as he transferred the baby into her arms while Mellie slept in their room. "I'm asking Mellie for a divorce, and Olivia and I are going to start fresh. This is the first step."

Naomi didn't have the heart to tell him that she didn't think men like him got fresh starts. She figured he'd discover that for himself soon enough.

February 2012

She met Jake at some hole-in-the-wall dive bar in Washington, D.C. while she was in town to see the Grants. He smiled throughout the entire process, and she eventually raised an eyebrow. "I know that look. Who's the girl?"

"Olivia Pope," he replied immediately. He held up a hand at her shocked expression. "I know that I'm an idiot."

"Wasn't going to say that," Naomi replied evenly. "I can't judge, anyway. I know what it's like to be in love with someone you can never have." She smirked bitterly. "It's ironic, isn't it? That the people we love are in love with each other?"

"I think shitty is a more appropriate term," Jake replied bluntly.

"I'll drink to that," Naomi agreed, tapping her beer against his.

November 2012

There had been very few times throughout their friendship that Naomi had gone to Fitz without having any idea what to say to him. One of those times came when she arrived for the funeral of his teenage son. She sent flowers and hugged the younger children, but there was nothing that she could do to get him up off of the floor. Mellie was equally broken, but she was at least coping. Fitz was laying on the Presidential Seal when she walked into the Oval Office. Instead of pulling him up off of it, she adjusted the hem of her dress and laid down next to him.

"My son is dead," he informed her tonelessly.

"I know," she replied evenly, trying to fight against the tears that filled her eyes. "It sucks."

"Yeah, it really does. It sucks," he agreed, his voice breaking.

When her hand found his, he didn't pull away. She considered that to be a small step in the right direction.

February 2013

Naomi wasn't sure how she was supposed to react to the phone call that she had just received. On one hand, Fitz had finally pulled his head out of his ass and given up the grudge he had been holding against Jake. On the other, Olivia had been kidnapped, which meant that two of the most important people in her life were frantic. For the first time in a long time, she went to a local cathedral and spent hours praying.

When she received a phone call from a relieved Jake five days later that informed her that they had found Olivia, she couldn't help but believe in a higher power. As she dialed Fitz's number later that evening, she wondered just how what had happened to Olivia would influence him.

"I'm letting her go," he murmured into the phone five minutes into their conversation. "He loves her, and she loves him, and I'm letting her go like I should have years ago. I'm moving on."

"What about Mellie?" Naomi questioned, fully aware that he couldn't see her raised eyebrow.

"We're getting divorced," he admitted. "Not right now, but soon. This is all too much." He exhaled deeply. "I'm starting over, Naomi. I'm starting over like I've always wanted to."

"That's interesting," Naomi replied coyly.

"Yeah, why is that?"

"Well, I just got offered a job at Quantico. You think I should take it?"

She could hear the smile in his voice on the other end of the line. "I am certain that you should take it."

"Okay, then. Virginia, here I come."

July 2013

Olivia was pregnant, and Jake was the father. Naomi loved both of them dearly, but she had never been more relieved to hear a group of words strung together than she was when Jake informed her of their news over the phone. It seemed that things were finally beginning to look up for all of them."

She boarded a plane bound for the States later that month. When she arrived at the airport, Fitz was waiting for her.

"Fresh start?" he questioned as he took her bags.

"Fresh start," she agreed, linking her arm through his as they headed for the waiting car.

Maybe this was exactly what they both needed all along. There was only one way to find out.

Author's Note II: And cue a lot of will-they-won't-they-oh-they-just-have-to moments until February 2014 when they got their act together.