Bah humbug.

Olivia Pope wished that she could be Scrooge. She wished that she could close off her heart to the holiday season. She wished that she wasn't full of holiday cheer. Unfortunately, she had always enjoyed the season more than the average person. She always grew excited on the first of November. If she were called into work, she would still take the evening to decorate her apartment. Abby always insisted it was too early, but she was secretly delighted by Olivia's chipper disposition. It was the only time that Olivia truly seemed to unwind without restrictions. While she never steered from her usual tact, she was… simpler. Her mind never seemed to be haunted by things that none of them understood and Olivia wouldn't explain. It was the only time of year that Olivia asked to bake with Abby. Her house weekly smelled of freshly baked cookies. She rarely spent time at her local yoga studio, because that's what the New Year was for.

Nonetheless, everyone didn't mind the Christmas spirit when Olivia Pope was around.

As she sat in her office, she cuddled a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. The corner of her lips twitched happily as the scent wafted in her lounge. She rested against her chair and tucked a leg beneath her bum. Taking a cautious sip, she sputtered as the hot beverage burned her tongue. Grumbling, she placed the beverage onto the table. Her eyes glanced to the frosted windows. The sky was gray. She hoped that it snowed for Christmas. A white Christmas would be optimal. This Christmas, she would be alone but not particularly lonely. At least, she had convinced herself of this idea.

Her mother and latest boyfriend had traveled 'somewhere warm' for Christmas. She wouldn't be surprised if that was just the confines of their bedroom. Truthfully, Olivia hadn't inquired too much about it. She didn't mind being away from her mother this Christmas. It would just continue with the same barbs of 'why aren't you married' and 'when am I getting some grandchildren, your uterus won't wait forever.' Her sister had met Mr. Perfect Number 11 (yes, she was counting) and was spending Christmas with his family for the first time. She suspected that her sister would unexpectedly arrive Christmas day in tears and babbling how 'terrible' his family was. It happened every year. While she loved her sister dearly, she rushed into relationships and could begin a ring collection with her number of failed engagements.

This year, she hadn't made plans. She didn't expect an invitation from Cyrus and James, because they would surely have Fitz and Mellie over at some period or another. It more accommodating to have the President and First Lady than friends to visit. Since the dissolution of their 'relationship,' Olivia didn't expect Fitz to pop by. She was relieved but disappointed, she had bought his Christmas gift months ago while traveling for business in Italy. The fine handcrafted shoes sat in a box beneath her bed primly wrapped for months. She knew that he had an affinity for handcrafted shoes and had worn one pair for years—his lucky shoes, but was unable to find the creator again. After a bit of searching and haggling, she had managed to uncover the mystery shoemaker. Despite it all, Olivia was grateful for a peaceful Christmas. It would offer her a time to reflect but also moments of silence that she hadn't been awarded all years. Actually, she hadn't been given silence in years. The 'gladiators' had propositioned an obnoxious New Year's Eve party. She hadn't agreed but secretly she'd been looking for a venue. They deserved a night off too.

Running a hand through her hair, her thoughts drifted to him. She didn't need to imagine what he was doing. His Christmas plans were stagnant. Once, he had confessed that he wished for something else. He wanted to spend a Christmas in a foreign country and experiencing a different celebration. He had expressed, he had never spent any Christmas in pajamas and always wore some formal attire. One year, he wanted something entirely low-key where no one was watching. They both knew that it would never happen. Sadly, once again, he accepted his fate at the California ranch. He had begrudgingly described the usual scenario. Mellie would attempt to help his sister, Farah in the kitchen. His sister would staunchly oppose, because Mellie 'never struggled a day in her life,' which usually led into Mellie not being worth Fitz. When Fitz managed to escape, his father always found him and berated his inability to control Mellie, she had clearly started the fight with his sister. All roads lead to Fitz. The Christmas unwrapping was too formal and cold. The children never understood the magic of shredding the paper and squealing with delight. They always had to make 'camera faces,' because a photographer stood overhead snapping pictures for 'thank you' cards and White House calendars. There wasn't ever anything simple about Christmas at the ranch. Fitz hated that they were robbed of the magic. He certainly couldn't attest to it. He had never felt it either. His eldest brother, Edward told him a ludicrous story that sounded more like a Christmas miracle. When he was young and his parents still struggled in a one-bedroom apartment, Christmas was a happy occasion. Christmas was a celebration of family, receiving the most gifts that they ever received all year –even if it was knitted sweaters, socks, the occasional used toy, and the one single item Santa promised—and love. Fitz couldn't imagine his parents struggling let alone in love.

There must had been some magic, because every night when everyone was asleep, Fitz would catch Edward watching Hallmark Christmas films. He said, they 'reminded him of a better time.' When Edward died of prostate cancer, it became Fitz's tradition. It was the only reprieve that he had received and it was a relief to see happiness in films, even if he had very little in life. There was still magic in Christmas. Some evenings, Karen would silently join him. It had become a tradition and neither acknowledged their unhappiness. They couldn't change their fate and this was hardly the family to change traditions.

The ringing phone broke her thoughts. Immediately, she glanced around the office and waited for Harrison to holler 'incoming.' There was not a peep from outside the office. She sat quietly and awaited it again. Her brow creased in surprise. Glancing around the office once more, her eyes drifted back to the phone, who could possibly be calling? The phone went to voicemail. No one left a message. She figured it wasn't important. It was three days before Christmas, and Olivia could admit that she really didn't want to be bothered with a case. If a Senator or governor couldn't keep it in his/her pants, she didn't want to hear about it until after the holidays. She wanted to blissfully live in her bubble where humanity was righteous and everyone had a wonderful joyous season. She was never an idealist except during Christmas. Once, Cyrus had called her 'sickening.' The sweetness that she had oozed for months had nearly given him a cavity, but she suspected that it was a fresh change. He needed something to keep his blood pressure low or he'd have a heart attack.

Lifting the hot chocolate to her lips, she was surprised when the phone began to ring again. Her eyes drifted to the phone and was surprised that no other lights lit. This call was specifically for her.

Raising the phone to her ear, she spoke crisply, "Olivia Pope."

"I am breaking tradition."

Immediately, she was winded.

She hadn't spoken to him in months.

She sat silently. She attempted to regain her breath and bearings. Why was he calling her? What was he supposed to say now to make the past few months of unbearable hurt better? Her heart thundered in her chest and blood rushed in her ears. She sighed quietly and paused, her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She couldn't do this again. He couldn't keep taking from her and not expecting a negative response. She had grown to live without him. Every breath without him was shallower. Every waking moment knowing that the evening wouldn't be followed by his call seemed more jaded. She had tried to move on with Edison, but even his touch couldn't distract her. When she met Edison's gaze, he was so starkly different from Fitz that it made her ache for familiarity. His gentle touch made her crave the harsher, demanding, and possessive grip of her lost lover. The commandeering and dominant hold that left bruises on her hipbones when he pummeled into her petite body. She missed him.

Pushing the phone away from her ear, she rested it on the cradle again and hung up on him. Despite her need for him, Olivia knew that she couldn't go back. She couldn't return and be reduced to what had been left of her. The façade of a 'gladiator' was well and fine until she returned home. Her small body curled beneath the blanket, hugging pillows and hoping it would transform into his body, as she sobbed brokenly into them. She couldn't become that person again. He couldn't ruin Christmas for her too. Sighing, she pressed the heel of her hands into her eyes and muttered angrily. She couldn't do this. It was Christmas. The idea of a Christmas with him made her warm. It made her understand the notion of 'butterflies.' She took a deep shuddering breath and hurriedly took a sip of the hot chocolate. It was still much too hot for her smooth palate but the burn was welcome.

Later that evening, she stepped into her apartment smiling. The Christmas tree was alight and glowing. The traditional red glass ornaments and gold figurines dazzled from the evergreen. For a moment, she paused and admired its beauty. Her home was decorated with accents of traditional Christmas themes. She had wooden art of Christmas characters and porcelain Santa's. Taking off her coat, she tossed it over the chaise and stepped before the tree. As a child she had always been most bewildered by the tree. Every year it had taken on a new appearance and decorating had always been her favorite part. Her fingers crossed the tarnished gold ornaments. They had been in her family since her birth – forty-three years. She brushed across the gold angel. Her head was bowed, halo twinkling, and cheeks rosy from the white lights illuminating the three. Olivia pressed her lips to the small ornament and gingerly rested her against the tree again.

Tugging off her boots, she tossed them near the door. Crouching down, she wasn't disappointed by the sparse gifts beneath the tree. That wasn't her favorite. As she scooted beneath the tree and gazed upwards, Olivia realized that there wasn't more beautiful thing in the world than this. Closing her eyes, she brushed her fingers across the tree. She was transported into a time when her worries were gone. She wouldn't need to miss him. He would be hers without question. She yearned for the most mundane practices of domesticity. Olivia had been handing out boxes of cookies to her neighbors, who she hardly knew and her doorman. The homeless two blocks down had received more holiday presents from her than she suspected anyone ever dared give them. Despite the many compliments that she received, she wished for his. She wished to see his face when he bit into her hard work because Olivia never baked. She rarely cooked and had promised him these simple tasks before they were doused with reality. She rested an arm over her eyes to ward off the tears. She refused to cry so close to Christmas. He was a married man with two children. If he weren't the president, he would still be off limits. She shouldn't covet for a married man. Her mother hadn't risen for a lady of such stature.

A knock at her door caught her attention and Olivia debated not answering it. She was tired of cases right now. She was tired of running out and fixing other people's messes. Technically, it was her profession but she wished others wouldn't be so undeniably stupid. She couldn't think of a more fitting word than 'stupid.' If they weren't so reckless than she could understand. The veiled threats that Senator left their mistresses were the worst. It was hardest to convince a mistress that everyone just wanted a resolution when the Senator threatened with defamation or death. Every moment such a case appeared, her thoughts drifted to Amanda Tanner and her ruthlessness. She never should have trusted the word of them without her own research. Deep down, she knew this but her heart had clouded her judgment. She had insisted that he wouldn't lie to her. They were in love. He loved her. When you were in love, you shared everything. There wasn't a reason to keep secrets because secrets were damaging. As she remembered the cold blue lips of Amanda Tanner, her stomach lurched with revulsion. Secrets were deadly. Olivia pushed the thoughts out of her mind. To some degree, she had reconciled with her treatment of Amanda Tanner. It was inexcusable but neither he nor she had killed Amanda. Clearing her throat, she composed herself and opened the door.

Her eyes widened in surprise for the second time today.

"Hi," She breathed.

"Hi."