A/N: So this is the sequel to Uphill Both Ways. It's much shorter because it was originally planned to be a one-shot, but it turned out to be a little bit longer. It starts a few months ahead of where the first story left off, and Fitz tells of present events and past events, recent and older. It was fun to write. Hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave a review!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing from ABC's Scandal or anyone/anything else.

I set down my silent smartphone on the wooden nightstand and breathed a heavy sigh of relief as I sat down in a plastic chair beside my wife's bed. I hated having to come to a hospital for anything, but it hurt worse seeing her lying there, sleeping peacefully as we waited to meet our daughter.

I knew she wasn't in danger and had no physical wounds. We both knew it is a good pain if it meant we get to see our baby.

I'm glad she's finally asleep. We've been here since five this morning. She's only at thirty weeks; they said this baby can't come out yet. I think they're wrong. They gave her medicine around nine, one, and again at five for pain and to stop the contractions, but I know my wife. She knows her body. And I think we're going to meet our daughter soon.

I'm so proud of her. She has been through so much, and I don't tell her enough how proud I am and how much I love her.

She's slept well since she's been here, even with a big IV in her arm and heart monitors on her and this baby trying to meet us. I don't know how I got so lucky as to meet her. She has changed my entire world for the better, despite bumps in the road along the way.

I stroked her beautiful hand gently as I listened to the soft beeping of her heart monitor, then stared at the white analog clock on the wall - 8:23 pm.

I couldn't wait much longer to meet our daughter.

After spending five weeks off the radar at Ben and Kelly's house trying to ride this storm out, we packed our things and decided to head out to the old house for a while. We couldn't go back to the Governor's Mansion, even though they were done investigating there. I couldn't handle that hurt yet. I watched my father, her rapist, die there. Mellie couldn't enjoy that freedom.

We weren't ready.

The wounds were still deep, still fresh.

As we rode down the dirt backroads to the house in silence, I occasionally glanced over at Mel, who was on her phone, texting someone a lot. I figure it was Jade. She helped keep Mel sane through these past few hectic weeks. She would come visit her, cook with her, go walk with her, talk about work, stuff like that. I'm incredibly thankful for having her in our lives. She understands her in ways I don't.

But something still seemed off about Mellie. She was physically and mentally exhausted. She had barely gotten any sleep the past few weeks for worrying about the press and the baby and me, of all people. I had to remind her to not worry about me, that I would be fine. That I wasn't upset. That I didn't care too much about the old bastard anyway.

But I did. I hated every inch, every hair, every cell in that man's body, but he was still my father. I still had that connection to him, I still had that connection to him through Mellie, and no matter how bad I tried not to care about him, I always came back. I always cared, at least a little bit.

I cared enough that even a month after his death, I was still a wreck on the inside. I hadn't slept much either. I don't even remember the last time Mellie and I slept in the same bed. Two-two weeks ago? Maybe? I don't know. Between neither of us sleeping well, her restlessness, and my grief, we've just learned how to deal. I know it will get better soon. I can tell she's more comfortable alone with all her pillows and blankets to snuggle up with, but I wonder how often she has the desire to fall asleep beside another person.

I pulled up to the brick house about twenty minutes later, parked the silver truck in the concrete driveway and got out to help get Mel inside. She wouldn't admit it to me, but I could tell she was still shaken up by the rape. She wanted me near her more, holding on to her, wanting a sense of protection and security. I was just glad she finally allowed me to give it to her. I had missed her.

I opened her door and smiled as I saw her in all her beauty gently step out of the truck. Her gray skinny jeans, blue tennis shoes and my long sleeve purple v-neck looked amazing on her. She could no longer try and hide her pregnancy at fifteen weeks, whatever good that was doing, no matter how much she tugged and pulled at my still baggy shirts on her. It's obvious, and I couldn't be more proud.

She was even more gorgeous carrying our child.

We walked inside our old home that afternoon around two thirty, and after I made sure she was inside, I went back for our bags. The guys came out earlier and said they were watching from a safe distance. Anyway, I was determined to make it all in one trip-not that it was much anyway. Two duffel bags and my work bag felt like nothing. I set them down in the smaller, soft green downstairs bedroom and walked back into the living room to find her at the sliding glass back door. She quickly opened it and stepped outside into the warm March air, taking in a deep breath. I could only wonder what was going through her precious mind at that moment.

I decided to leave her to her thoughts, and walked into the kitchen to figure out what to make for dinner. Then it hit me.

We forgot to stop at the store on the way here for groceries.

I opened the fridge to see if we had anything at all in there, and to my surprise, it was full. Vegetables, drinks, fruit, meat, everything. So were the cabinets. I smiled slightly and closed everything, knowing Kelly had told Ben and the guys to do all this.

We were literally surrounded by some of the best people on earth.