"Congratulations Madam President!" Abby Whalen stood in the Oval Office, along with Quinn, Huck, Harrison and Stephen, all applauding as she entered the room. She wasn't prone to blushing, but the sight warmed her heart, without them there was no way this dream could have ever become a reality. She smiled and shook her head, "Thank you everyone, you've all worked so hard for today and I couldn't have done it without you." She grabbed a champagne glass off a nearby tray and raised it towards the small group, "To my gladiators in suits!"

"Over a cliff!" They cheered as their glasses chinked, it had become their mantra after an inside joke made one long late night involving far too much red wine and a comical game of 'would you rather', nobody was really sure of it's initial meaning but the phrase seemed to stick. The all giggled as if back on the campaign trail two months ago, tipsy and curled around their glasses, how naive it suddenly seemed, like adults looking back on childhood.

She glanced away as the group began chatting about their wonder at being here, the most powerful office in all the world, who knew what the future would hold and who could know that a bunch of Harvard graduates would ban together and take the White House by storm. It was their future to cast, mould and shape as they wished.

But Olivia wasn't there with them. She thought she would feel an instant coldness, like unplugging a power cord and being left in the dark, but in her heart sparks trailed wherever she went. She felt numb, but not cold, perhaps cold would come later. She could hope at least.

Her eyes drifted towards the window as her gaze began to cling to a memory rather than vision. She inhaled as his arms carved their way through her body, climbing over her torso to grip her breasts as she would whimper and flush against him while he breathed her in. His fingers would wander towards her nipples and brush them gently while he began soft whispers of his desires in her ear, but he knew that those words were more than that, they were her thoughts and his promises of what would follow. Then she would gasp and groan as his hand released her and headed downwards, a single finger slipping between her thin underwear as her core contracted and shook, begging for him in ways she didn't-

"Where is the woman of the hour!?" His voice cut like lightening through her trance, straightening her back she folded her arms and turned to face her husband. He stood, arms outstretched with a toothy grin and a champagne glass in his hand. She laughed in that same practiced way, rolling her eyes comically as if to say 'isn't my husband a winner?', and he was. After his first term she agreed she would stay by his side, but only if he endorsed her run for President when the time came. It was the only light the the dark hole they'd found themselves in, affairs, deceit, mistrust and it was what she was raised for, the next logical step. He offered and she was a fool to refuse, or at least that's what her mother had told her and her father had shouted, but she had terms. Now they lived separately, they didn't see other people but they were strangers sleeping in the other's bed and living in the other's house. Over time she forgot how he liked his eggs as he forgot birthdays and she forgot anniversaries. Now they knew each other only as politicians, machines build of stability, control and habit. But this had to change come the election, so they brought him in, the only person who-

"Right here, honey." It wasn't the time, she had to be numb. Instead she fell forcibly into his embrace as they clung together while cameras clicked and snapped, it looked everything it wasn't but that was his job and he was damn good at it. She wouldn't be here without him and as she holds her husband she can imagine just for a moment that it's him, and suddenly she's filed with warmth lightness before colliding with earth as she once again holds his stocky frame between her hands and laughs politely as they let go, smiles camera ready of course.

XxXxX

It had been the longest day of her life. She had danced with the man who was now shackled to her career as she was to his, perhaps this was how it would always be, swapping turns to the prisoner in their marriage because it could ever be equal footing without trust and that was lost far too long ago. If he was a casualty in her career then who cared, certainly not her. The times she found his secretary girlishly giggling in his arms as he plastered her neck with sloppy wet kisses, when she thought him in 'meetings' with a 'senator' only to spy lipstick on his collars. She had hardened herself, as everyone told her to, she had looked the other way and now it was her turn. She would run she would win and she would lead the greatest nation on earth but not as the daft single woman whose former job as First Lady made her as qualified as a model, it would be as the wife who devoted her time and service to the people all the while sucking up the politics and power in her wake. It was her consolation prize and who was she not to want it? Olivia Pope, first female in the White House, and of course she was a black woman so things would change, she would leave markers, choices and progress as her legacy. That's what they told her and she knew they were right. In a way, it wasn't about her at all, it was her power and the position she held and she knew it, this was her burden to bear in order to pave the way for history and those who would no doubt come after her.

As she sat in her chair, collapsed against the cold hard leather, this drummed over and over in her head. It was something she had to convince herself of somedays, because when she thought of him everything else seemed to vanish. She shut her eyes and leaned back, the chair creaking slightly with her weight as she began to dream again of his hands and his fingers because it was far easier to think of these things than their situation. Before she could talk sense into herself she grasped her wine glass for a last play at dutch courage as her own fingers skimmed over the numbers on the desk phone. Before she thought to hang up she could hear the ringing, the sounds of hope and light leaked into her dark world. Finally before she could allow herself to be disconnected like the power cord she so longs to be, she heard the crackle of his voice like a fire stoking her heart.

"Hello?"

Because she missed him, not in any way she's known before. Her heart ached and soared, so full it threatened to spill into tears. She missed a limb without him and while she could function and carry on and always respond 'fine' when they asked, she felt the loss of him every day and she was wholly incapacitated by him.

"I was just thinking… you're heavy." She slurred out, having only just realised she's a little more courageous than she planned and cackling softly at the thought but holding it together. She heard his shuffling on the other end of the line and she wondered if it was sheets rumpling themselves around him as he settled into bed or if it was socks being bundled into feet, either way she missed the memories.

"Good evening Madam President."

Because he didn't know what else to say, it had been weeks since them and everything. She'd made herself clear and it tortured him to think that tomorrow their conversation will be another memory to cling to his in mourning for the loss of her. He snapped back for a moment, considering what she has said and the silence that had spread between them, not that their silences had ever been anything quiet.

"I'm heavy?" He questioned in that comical masculine tone, as if he was laughing at her while stroking his own ego. She would never figured out how he did that and she thought perhaps she'd dry trying.

"I can't carry you 'round all the time because you're heavy." She mumbled into the receiver before she heard his low chuckle and then a pregnant pause between them.

"Then let me go." His voice had lost all it's humour and light, instead being, like their memories weighted and tainted with their circumstance and situation. He wasn't sure if he meant it, but it had to be said for both their sakes, because she wasn't his and he wouldn't be hers. He lived half a life these days but in their moments it seemed like an eternity, it just didn't seem like these moments were enough because they were strangled by everything around them and he wanted more. They talked of houses with kids running barefoot on their lawn and a wedding with the sand between their toes and their friends settled around them sharing their love. But these were memories from another life.

"That's not fair, Fitz." Her tone was suddenly distant, as if removed from her role as his lover and now his commander in chief.

"No? Why not? Nobody forced you into this Madam President-"

"Now that's a lie and you know it." She fought back.

"Seriously? So, we're playing the blame game now? Alright, how about when you told me you wanted me, when a month after I'd known you we snuck into the supply closet at the campaign headquarters? Whose idea was that?" He was being harsh and he knew it but he couldn't stop, she wasn't to blame and neither was he.

"Okay." She exhaled and admitted defeat but he continued,

"What about Vermont, when you crawled into my arms because you couldn't sleep with the thunder outside and when you woke I held you until you stopped shaking and then we-"

"That's enough." Her tone was like hard steal cutting him in two and they stopped their torturous dance.

There was a long moment between them where nothing was said but their souls seemed to speak and forgive one another.

"I'm sorry I called, I just-"

"I miss you."

"Me too."

"I still wake up and turn over expecting to see you, because it just seems so right. You should be there, in my arms, wrapped up in my sheets. And I know now you're smiling that stupid way you do when you think about me and you get that look."

"I do not have a look!" A smile began to bloom over her face and she felt like a 15 year old girl gushing over her boyfriend, if only it was that simple.

"Yes, you do." He teased her and they both chuckled for a moment.

She rubbed her hand against her forehead and looked at her watch.

"I have to go." She sighed, because these moments felt like lifetimes and instants all at once and neither were enough.

"I know." Because she was always slipping through his fingers like sand and it help to nurse the grains she left without causing them both so much pain.

"Fitz, I…" She didn't know how she could ever let go or how to tell him that his hold on her was permanent and ever so real.

"It's okay, I get it." He knew her feelings just as she knew his because they were part of the same being.

There was a final small pause as they both knew this second was ticking over and then it would be time to forget.

"Night Liv."

"Wait, Fitz," Her breath hitched in her throat before she laughed slightly, "Do I really have a look?"

He joined her for a moment as he heard her smile.

"Goodnight, Liv."

"Goodnight, Fitz."

A/N: I know I've been gone a LONG time but still love this show is leaps and bounds. It's just I'm living really long days at the moment with Uni but I just loved this idea of them swapping places. I think I'd like to do moments in time of these guys in their relationship, so tell me your thoughts on this and what you'd like to see as I'd totally love suggestions. Please review and PM me as a PM I got a little while ago totally encouraged me to write again and I'm having trouble with some writers block for my other stories so we'll see! Thank you so much for reading! Much love xx Sam