Forgot to remember
My new story... This will be a longer story than the ones that I usually do so I really hope that you guys like it. There are changes in both the story and roles of some of the characters.
Also, I do not claim to own any sections or phrasing that are distinctly from the show as they belong to Shonda Rhimes. I am merely using them as a foundation for the rest of the story. So please don't give me mumbo jumbo on intellectual property and copyright.
Chapter 1: We are lost
It comes to her in flashes. Images of a life she cannot remember living...images so impossible and farfetched, that they make her think that her damaged mind was even more damaged than what the doctors had originally thought. Images she's convinced her mind creates to fill the empty void of memories lost...Of years lost in an instant. They play in her mind like movies. She feels him; she feels his touch, a body without a face or voice. It distracts her, frustrates her, these images that appear without warning. Olivia sighs as she feels the onset of another migraine. Her hands automatically move to the sides of her head to rub her temples in an effort to relieve some of the pain. So much for concentrating on the task at hand she thinks as she closes the laptop sitting on the desk in front of her and runs her eyes over the news on the TV on the wall opposite her, one of the few things still plugged in.
She makes her way to the kitchen of the two bedroom, two bathroom apartment in search of the painkillers the doctor had given her for moments such as these. Whenever she concentrates for too long periods or a possible new memory plays in her mind the migraines start. She was becoming tired of this. The endless questions running through her head, the seemingly endless uncertainty about whether her memories were fact or fiction. She grabs two pills as prescribed and downs them with a glass of water as she leans her hip against the counter.
She's had many memories, a lodge in the forest, a hunting trip, a lift...although that one made her angry. She replays the latest 'memory'. At first she was alone, in a big office it seemed, staring at a large mahogany desk in front a row of windows. Without her noticing his presence arms wrap around her middle and she feels her body being pulled back against the man standing behind her. She feels the soft touch of his hand as it runs down her arm while the other slowly draws her hair away from her shoulder. She feels the tingling under her skin as his breath makes contact with her shoulder and then the feel of his lips against her neck, slowly moving up to her jaw and then back down across her bare shoulders. She feels the love radiating in waves off his body, feels it in his every touch...feels her own body responding to him and the love in her heart for him.
Olivia gasps as she thinks of the memory, the emotions of it overwhelming her. She opens the tap and turns to the sink splashing her face with the cold water. She rests her elbows on the sinks edge, places her head in her hands and shuts her eyes to try and stop the tears from falling. How could this be happening to her? How can she be feeling all these emotions, yet she doesn't know where they come from or how she even remembers the feeling of 'him' if she cannot even remember who he is or even if it and if he was truly real? How could she be in love with someone she cannot remember, who is not around, who is not here to tell her whether what she feels and remembers actually happened or not, who (if even real) would be here?
It just didn't make sense to her. She feels the frustration welling up in her once again and the migraine slightly subside due to the medication taking effect. Might as well head to bed she thinks as she turns of the kitchen light and make her way out of the kitchen. There was no way that she would be able to work on the case anymore that night. She passes the TV on the way to her room and sees the news displaying images of the president and his wife at an opening of a new state hospital for children and she pauses. A feeling of familiarity but more than that, something stirring in her, an indescribable feeling of knowing runs through her.
She laughs quietly and berates herself as she turns the TV off, shaking the feeling as she walks down the hallway, littered with boxes, to her room. Don't be stupid Olivia, of course the president is familiar. You see him on the news constantly and you admire the way he runs this country. You agree with his foreign policy plans. Plus, he's the damn leader of the country. She pulls the covers around her shoulders and knows that she'll be dreaming of 'him' again. She just hoped that tonight she gets to see 'his' face in her dreams.
Fitz POV
It was late and he was still sitting at his desk in the Oval office working. It had become a habit he thinks ruefully. He hardly spends time doing anything else than practicing speeches, reading through drafts written by his staff members on various policies he wants to establish and reading through important documents given to him by his various advisors, documents from the VP, NSA, members of the pentagon and FBI. "Mr President," Cyrus says as he enters the Oval office, eliciting no response from Fitz. He stands awkwardly in front of the desk noticing the dark rings around Fitz's eyes. "Mr President" he tries again more forcefully, this time placing his hands on the desk, leaning forward.
Fitz sighs as he looks up at the man standing in front of him. "Cyrus..." he says lamely with a raised eyebrow, slightly leaning back in the chair, still clutching the documents in his hands. "Mr President, it's time to go home now...time to stop going through these documents that will be here waiting for you tomorrow." He was becoming worried for Fitz's health. Insomnia was a bitch and something that the president of the free world can't afford to suffer from. Mistakes come at a high price in the highest office.
Fitz chuckles slightly as he hears Cyrus attempt to get him to go home to his living quarters, to a room that was not comfortable, see a wife that was driving him insane, who he barely speaks to and have his mind free to think...free to think of her... free to miss her and feel the pain of her absence...no thanks. He feels his heart constrict and rubs his fingers across his right eyebrow as he stares at the man in front of him. "Cyrus, go home. I have a job to do and it doesn't mean that just because it's late I automatically stop. This job is 24/7 Cyrus, you and I both know that."
"Mr President...you and I both know that you can't keep doing this. You're exhausted and you're unstable when you get like this." Fitz chuckles again, placing the papers on the desk as he stands up, grabbing his glass from the desk and filling it with whisky for the fifth or sixth time that day. He can't really remember the exact amount of times he's found himself standing in front of the drink bar in his office. He brings the glass to his mouth and feels the liquid making a burning path down his throat as Cyrus continues on his rant. "You and I both know that this does not have anything to do with the job...it's been months and all you do is drown your sorrows. I loved her as much as you did...Liv wouldn't want th..."
He whirls around as Cyrus says this. He cannot believe the gall of the man saying something like that to him he thinks narrowing his eyes. He'd like think he'd know Olivia better than Cyrus would. He knows with certainty that he knows Olivia better than Cyrus does. "Don't you tell me what Olivia would have wanted because you really have no idea what she would have wanted," he says menacingly and with a slightly raised voice making it clear to Cyrus that this was not a topic that should be broached. "Do. Not. Speak. To. Me. About. What. Olivia. Would. Want. Again." He says slowly punctuating each word to make it clear that this was not negotiable. He downs the rest of his glass and turns to the drink stand again.
"Sir." He hears Cyrus say, and he chuckles again. Damn Cyrus for never being one to back down. "If you don't want to talk about Olivia fine, we won't talk about her, but this is unacceptable. You cannot continue to drink yourself into a stupor because you miss her. You cannot afford to be unstable. People are starting to notice. Sally is starting to notice. You better get a handle on this or drink yourself to death in the confines of your room, but if you want to remain president you need to stop and do your job with a clear mind." He hears Cyrus move to the door. "I know you miss her Sir, but it's time. She's not coming back this time" with that final statement he hears the doors close and he closes his eyes, resting his hands on the drink stand. He feels the pain course through him, the guilt. He knows Cyrus is right. It's becoming ridiculous; it's time to move on. He cannot continue doing this, but as much as he knows it he cannot stop himself from pouring another glass before downing it. Tonight was not the night to stop.
A/N: There you go. First chapter is mainly filler, to get it up an going. I'll be updating every week. Please review and let me know what you guys think. Any advice is good advice and you'll motivate me to continue!