As most, if not all, my stories, this was written in one sitting. I am not wearing my glasses, and the spell check did not want to work with me, so there will be errors, though minor. I hope you can have some oversight with this. I just binged watched the past 10 or so episodes, so this story probably fits in somewhere there, but it leaves out some important characters, and doesn't really fit in a given episode. It's a stand-alone ish. Bear with me.
Anyway, this is a story that I very much enjoyed writing, and having the creative outlet with it. I hope you enjoy reading it.
There is a taste of metallic in her mouth. As Fitz regard her from across the room that overwhelming taste occupies her thoughts for only a moment, distracting her from his wide eyes and eyebrows drawn together in that scowl that followed them around like a looming black cloud. Wherever they went it seemed as they would always end up in this moment. The flash of anger which follows her thought is predictable. It's the flash that surges through her veins and spurrs her into action, it is the surge which gets things done.
She takes one step forward, a hand raised to stop the words from coming pouring out of his mouth. Years ago she would have only dreamt about standing in the oval office, addressing the president of the country. Now, though the anger occupies most of her thoughts, the nausea starts to press, the unease of it nearly unbearable.
"No, let me speak," she says. His silence is enough for her to know he'll listen to her, however there were no promises of letting her speak uninterupted. "We can't, I can't do this because we don't live in a world where this is okay to do, this is the real world and there are sacrifices that has to be made." The tears which she has been trying to keep at bay spring up, threatening to spill, and would one fall over, the rest of them would follow suit.
"Olivia, this is my child, our child, we can't just pretend this didn't happen!" If Fitz could beg on his knees, he would. He would go down on his knees in front of the American people and beg for their allowance, for their acceptance, for his child to be born.
"We have to, because I'm not going to go through it again, your reputation will not survive this, you won't get four more years in this office if we go through with this." Despite trying to keep her voice down her whispers are loud enough to carry well within the office, the harshness of them cut in her ears. Her fingers points to the ground as she speaks, harsh jabs in the air as if she could stab the counter-arguments to death with it.
"Liv, please, this is our baby," his voice softens, edging closer to her as she regards him suspisciously, trying to see where he was going with his argument. "Something of you and I, that we made, a child made in love, a child that will be loved by us."
"It is a fantasy Fitz, would you give up this office?" As if he didn't hear her, he inches closer, his hand reaching to cradle the small curve of her lower stomach, were there's no sign of the secret harbored within her uterus.
"For you, anything," he murmers in her ear. She allowes herself a second to give in, to close her eyes and imagine the two of them in Vermont, and their child taking his first steps in front of the fireplace, picknicks on the back lawn. Then she opens her eyes, and looks up at him, for a second daring herself to give into it, to dive head first into the dream world where there were no troubles.
"I don't want that to be on me, I don't want to be the one who has to carry that weight, and I don't want our… no one should have to carry that weight," she says, a finalizing tone informing him that the decision has been made.
"Olivia." His voice is sharp, cutting through the room as a newly sharpened blade. "This is not just your choice."
"Roe vs Wade 1973, it is my choice." The fire returned to her gut, a sense of indignation followed, and his face crumbles to one of fragility and innocence, the one she could not bare to look out without feeling as if she had kicked a puppy. "I want us to agree, that this is the best way to go."
"Is it? Because you have not once acknowleged that this is our baby, that you are pregnant with our child. Say it Liv, and then tell me you can go through with it, he says. The voice of the president of the United States.
The seconds that follow in silent pause weigh heavily between them, those tears that press behind her eyes get harder to ignore, the pounding in her chest harder to still.
"I…" she tries to speak, as he looks at her patiently, sympathetically. "This baby, our child… I can't give birth to it, we can't raise this child. No matter what, this child… this child will never…" She started to heave, the tears coupled with the pain in her chest made it hard to breathe. Fitz rushes forward to hold her close, hold her up as she staggered to keep balance. "Tell me how, tell me how we would do it," she whispers in his ear.
"I would divorce Mellie, I would not run as president for another term, we would keep on the down low… move to Vermont and keep out of the public… we would live quietly." He kisses her temple, rubbing her back as her breathing calmed.
"It would never be quiet," she says, looking up at him. "You know that."
"I do," he confesses. "I do."
They remain in an embrace, listening to each other's breaths, and lingering in the thought of a future which feels close enough to touch, yet too far away to grasp. Only when a knock interrupts their moment do they part, giving each other a look that reflected all that has been said, with no definite course of action planned.
She leaves, takes her coat, and once again the metallic taste emerges at the forefront of her thoughts. It had been the first symptom, the first inkling that her birth control had failed them, that their caution had been in vain. Had it been faith? She kept questioning her decision, that if after all they had done to prevent this, was it not faith if it happened?
She cannot let her life and livelihood rest on a whimsical notion as fate. She is too pragmatic for faith, she does not have time for faith.
The watering in her mouth makes her take a sharp left into the bathroom, locking the door carefully behind her, before she allowed herself to throw up. Pregnancy didn't make her feel more feminine, didn't make her feel as if she was more of a woman, it didn't make her feel anything but miserable. Tired, nauseous, unattactive, unproductive, and bloated. The magic of it had been completely lost on her.
Taking a piece of paper she wipes her mouth, collecting herself quickly she flush, smooth out her clothes, put a gum in her mouth, and emerge as if nothing had happened. Outside, by the sinks, stands a woman, young enough to have a few years before she reaches the age thirty, washing her hands thoroughly.
"Upset stomach?" the woman asks, a calculating look on her face as she regards Olivia Pope through the mirror.
"Could say that." Olivia smiles tightly, walking up to the sink herself. "My lunch didn't settle that well with me." Thirty seconds to wash hands was enough, she thinks to herself. Long enough to not be seen as rushing out of there, and not long enough to give time for talk, or be seen as faking calm.
"It's a bit early for lunch… Hm, didn't buy from the café downstairs, did you?" the woman asks, feigning concern and apprehension.
"No, I didn't eat from the café." She smiles tightly again, giving the woman a look to inform her that her casual questions were seen for what they really were.
"That's good, otherwise the White House would be having a minor crisis." The woman laughed, unaffected. "You should probably go home and rest, appears even Olivia Pope can get sick." The name-drop was not unintentional, they both know that.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name before." She knows she's on thin ice, and needed whatever she could to reel herself in on dry land
"Charlotte Hendricks," she holds out the visitor's badge, "I'm with the press." She did not mention which channel or paper she was with, and the transparence of why she withheld it was evident to both of them. "Well, I got to run, feel better soon Ms Pope." That she runs out of the room before Olivia gets a time to ask anymore questions.
Before anyone else enters the bathroom she splashes her face with cold water. However they play the next few days is imperative to assure Fitz's seat as the president for another four years.
Even if he was hiding his head in the sand.
XOXOXOX
"Ms Olivia Pope," the doctor's warm smile greet her as he enters the room. "What can I do for you?" He sits down on the seet opposite the examination table she iss perched upon. The feeling makes her reminscent of the first time she went to the doctor to ask to be prescribed birth control, then she was still a teenager.
"I'm pregnant, and I would like a time for an abortion," she says calmly, practiced. She had not talked to Fitz anymore about it, this time was booked without his knowledge. She felt as if she had a time then she would not be as easily persuaded into making a different choice. Of course, she would tell him when she would have the abortion, she could not keep that from him.
"Okay, first I need you to take a pregnancy test, and then we will see how far along you are, and from that we will see what options are available to you," the doctor swirls around in his chair, opens a cabinet and takes out a plastic cup. "I want you to go into the bathroom over there and pee into this cup, and then bring it back out here for me."
Another side effect of pregnancy, she had realised, was that there was never a time when she didn't need to pee. She had, the day before, looked up why online, since the fetus was hardly big enough to be pressing on her bladder, and found out that it is hormones that do it. For some reason it made her feel more at ease with everything, it wasn't her child that was pressing on her bladder, it was a chemical reaction to a natural occurence in her body.
The doctor didn't have to wait long for the test to confirm that she is pregnant. After throwing the test in the trash, he turns back to her.
"I see in your file that you have been using the implant for a few years, which means it is harder to determinate how far into your pregnancy you are, without an ultrasound. What we could do is book a surgical abortion for you, I would recommend that we determinate the stage you are in beforehand." The doctor's voice is factual, distant, far from the smiling features he wore before, yet he felt strangely reassuring to her. This is nothing big, it is a procedure which many women went through everyday. She could, too.
"I'll do an ultrasound, then." Be prepared, know what you're getting yourself into, no surprises.
XOXOXOXO
"In 9 days," she says, breaking the silence in the room. He looks up at her, as if he's surprised she's there, even though he let her in just a few moments before. She had stood silent until then, maybe that is what surprised him.
"What happens then?" he asks, putting down the pen he was writing with, giving her his undevided attention.
"I'm having the abortion then," she says. He takes a deep breath, looks at the pen he had been holding as if contemplating going back to work instead of dealing with the situation in front of him.
"What if I told you I'm writing my resignation, where I won't be running for another four years?" He asks. She hesitates, furrowing her eyebrows, unsure if she can believe him. "Here, tell me what you think." He gives her the paper he'd been writing on, holding it out in the air like a lifeline for her to hold onto.
She takes it, scanning the page, soaking up the words which would put an end to his presidency.
"Fitz," his name is only a breath on her lips. She looks at him, torn between elation and unease. "This here is your life, this is what you've been working for for so long, you can't just give up like this."
"I'm not giving up, I'm chosing something else, I'm chosing love over power, a family over an empty pursuit of something I will never achieve," he says, shrugging.
"What about in a year, when you regret doing this, when you wish to take it back, what then?" He opens his mouth to intereput her thought. "I won't be your first lady, I will not be able to give you anything that will ever measure up to this, so Fitz you have to be really sure that this is what you want, that this is something you want to give up, because you can't take it back."
"What if I try to run with you?" his smile confuses her. "I decide to run again, and then I won't give it up for you, I will not win of course, but it won't be of your doing, it will be mine."
"Don't be ridiculous." She rolls her eyes at him, but sits down on the couch regardless.
"I'm serious." One look at him, now leaning against the front of his desk, looking towards her, and she knew he was telling the truth.
"How exactly would we run that campaign? I would be casted as the role of the homewrecker, the whore, and our child would be illegitimate, our child would be a topic that everyone would talk about… and not in a good way." Massaging her temple only eased a small portion of the headache this was bringing her.
"Me resigning peacefully would mean us having less and less spotlight as the campaigns of others progressed, we could have this baby, we could have Vermont."
"Or you could have four more years in this room, doing what you've always wanted, doing what you have fought so hard to do, to win this, the honest way." He only flinched slightly at the recollection of Defiance.
"I will resign, Olivia," he says, determinated as he takes the paper out of her hands, and puts it back on the desk.
"Are you trying to manipulate me? Because that won't work."
"I'm not trying to manipulate you, Olivia, I'm trying to create an option where we can have a family, where we can be together. "He rounds the table, and sits down in his chair, resuming writing the letter.
"Maybe I'm not ready," she challenges. "Maybe I'm not ready for a baby"
"You're 35, Olivia, if you're not ready now then you will have to face the fact that you won't have children." There's a stone set expression on his face, challenging her this time.
"Fitz, please." She looks down into her lap. "This is hard enough."
"If it's that hard without having considered everything, maybe you should start before it is too late."
XOXOXOXOXO
The wine glasses in her cupboard temps her as she peer into them. According to the ultrasound she is already 9 weeks pregnant, it is moving by now, too small to be felt, but it is moving.
She closes the cupboard, unable to committing the sin of drinking while pregnant, even though the abortion is only a week away. It's as if she constantly dangles the possibility of going through with it in front of her, knowing that if she keeps it, it will change everything. Olivia Pope and Associates would be run without her, taken over by someone else, as she would lose her reputation, no one would hire her, and she would not live in DC.
If she goes through with the abortion, if she decides it's not something she wants, it would cause a rift so big in her and Fitz' relationship, it would be hard to ever mend it. It would follow the reality that she would probably never have a child of her own, something that had seemed so obvious in her life, but always in the distant future.
She knows, it is never a good time to have a child, but when the father is the president, and you are his mistress, it's one of the worse situations.
"I'm sorry," she whispers to her stomach, for the first time touching her bloated abdomen in weeks. She had been keeping her hands away from it as much as she could, as if it would make her change her mind. As if she would not be able to go through with it if she admitted that she wants it.
XOXOXOXOXO
"She's pregnant," he says.
"Mellie?" Cyrus asks. "Because I hope that you're talking about Mellie otheriwse we are in deep shit, because the president of the United States doesn't have children with women who isn't his wife."
"Olivia is pregnant, with my child," he says, calmly, watching as Cyrus sinks down in one of the couches from behind his desk.
"How could that happen, how could you let that happen, because the Grant I know wouldn't be that stupid, but then again, I never thought he would be as stupid as having a mistress when he's the goddamned president!" Cyrus' face shines high red, threatening an explosion all over the oval office.
"I'm resigning," Fitz continues casually, holding the letter which would make it offical between two of his fingers, drumming it against the table.
"How can you…" Cyrus splutters. "Need I remind you how much you fought for this moment, how much I fought for it? You can't just throw it away because Olivia Pope is knocked up!"
"You mean Defiance?" the threat in Fitz voice is barely concealed.
"Olivia was apart of that, too." Fitz shruggs.
"I know what I want, Cyrus, I want her, and I want to have a family with her."
"I doubt Olivia is as blasé as you are about this," Cyrus points out. "In fact, Olivia would know that this is a receipe for distater, and she wouldn't let you resign."
"She thinks I will regret it," he admits. "She underestimates how much I love her."
"You have thought about quitting before, you have had plans to make her the first lady, it has always gone to shits." Cyrus' temper begins to rise as he speaks, but Fitz quiets him down, outwardly at least, with a hand held up.
"That isn't now, there was a different hand dealt then,."
"You underestimate how well Olivia knows you," Cyrus says as he stands up, and starts to walk out of the room. "You should listen to her, he says before he exits the room.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
"I know you can't come, I thought you'd want to know anyway." He looks up at her, where she stands, informing her of the time of the abortion. 9am on a Friday, she would make it a longer weekend off, taking much needed vacation time to terminate the pregnancy.
"When would your due date be?" he asks her, almost ready to accept the inevitable.
"December 10th," she says. The doctor had written it on her file, it was just a date which would mean nothing, but it did, and it stuck with her.
"A month after the election." There is a pause, it stretches between them, weighing down with the implications of what this all would mean, what would happen after this Friday. It was only three days away.
"It will be a surgical one, I will be taking the pain medication so Abby will be driving me there and back home."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you deserve to know," she says, leaning on his desk, looking down on him as she speaks.
"Did you consider keeping it?" he asks, looking up at her with an expression that told her he's still lingering onto the hope that she will change her mind.
"All the time." It takes all of her to be able to admit it, and to stop the tears from emerging she needs to look away from him, look through the window and at the green leaves outside.
"Why don't you, then?" She takes a long shaky breath, looking down on herself.
"Because I can't do it to you," she admits. "I can't be the one who is responsible for you not getting to be president any longer."
"I am allowing you to do it, I am begging you to… what is the real reason?"
"I don't know," she says. "I don't know any other reason."
"If you are scared I will blame you, I won't, because I'm the one who's asking you to do this, I will only be able to blame myself," he argues.
"Fitz…" She feels tired, worn, as if she had not rested in a long time.
"If you don't know, then you need to figure it out before you go through with it."
XOXOXOXOXOXO
"Rumors from the White House suggests that Olivia Pope, the campaign manager for President Grant, is pregnant with President Grant's love child, a rumor which is not difficult to believe since it's not that long ago there were wild speculations about the two of them having an affair. Inside sources claim that the pair has been making oogly eyes at each other for a long time. At this time there is no comment from the White House, but we are on bump watch here on-"
She shut the TV off, wondering why she even had the channel on in the first place. As if on cue, her phone starts ringing, she answering without hesitation.
"Did you see it?" she asks.
"I saw it," he confirms. Neither dare to say a word, they only breathe down the line, expectantly waiting for the other one to break the silence.
"How do you feel?" she asks after a while.
"Nervous," he says, "like I'm about to get caught with my pants down."
"Do you still feel the same about…" he lets the question linger in the air.
"Yes, I do." He says, after a longer pause. "I am prepared to go through with this." She does not respond to him, she stays quiet on her end, biting her lip, trying to figure out what she is thinking, how this could happen.
"I thought we managed to trick them, before," she says, with a laugh. "I guess we didn't…"
"What are you feeling?"
"Confused." It was enough to describe it, yet it felt like a word not big enough, encompassing enough, to fully realise what she was feeling inside.
"You are allowed to change your mind."
"I know."
"I will issue the letter the moment you say go."
"I know."
"Olivia," he whispered. "I love you, I love you more than anything, and with this child… I would give up everything for you."
"Fitz…"
"Please, Liv, I'm not lying, I'm not trying to manipulate you, I'm trying to give you a more fair choice, because I don't think you have one."
"I love you, too" she responds.
"See you tomorrow?"
"See you."
"Bye."
"Bye."
XOXOXOXOXO
"Apparently there has been speculations among household staff regarding the relationship status between President Grand and Pope for some time"
"How come this is only emerging now?"
"My theory is that when something really juicy comes up, people will start remembering those long looks, strange late night meetings, and conversations overheard in the hallway, or through walls."
"Conversations? That's one way to put it!"
"The White House has remained mum on the issue, but this is to be expected, they will only speak when their hand is pressed, and right now there is no baby bump, so they are trying to treat it as just a silly rumor"
"They should see our inboxes right now, there isn't one leak in the White House, it appears it has so many leaks that if they don't plug them up soon, the White House will sink, and sink fast"
"I would not want to be a member of the Fitzgerald family right now, one can only imagine the chaos that is taking place there right now!"
Xx
"Is it true?" Mellie asks, sitting on the edge of the couch, holding herself close, as if it would lessen the impact of the blow.
"Yes, it's true." Grant sits on the opposite end of the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand, despite the early hour.
"You don't expect this to blow over, that you can have your cake and eat it too? God Fitz, you make my hair turn grey." She breathes heavily, trying to calm the rage which was boiling within her.
"She's taking care of it, today actually." Fitz took another sip, and could see from the corner of his eye how Mellie turns her head towards him.
"You didn't try to stop her?"
"I did," he says. "I said I would divorce you, I would give up presidency, I would do it all for her, and she wouldn't let me."
"Nice to hear you speak so calluously of our marriage," she says.
"Well, it's not much of a marriage is it? How old is Teddy now? That plus 9 months, that's how long it's been since the two of us had sex."
"At least I can give you the title president, all she can give you is the legacy of being a scum."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
"How are you feeling?" He picked the phone up on the first ring, expecting her to call him when she got back to her apartment. She sounded small when she spoke. "Does it hurt?"
"I didn't go through with it, Fitz… you were right." She pauses, watching Abby stand in the window, biting her nails, in no way clueless of what kind of chaos this would start. "This is my one chance, and my one chance with you."
"Are you sure?" Weariness is not something he's unsued to at this point, constantly waiting for her to give him one inch of hope, but not trusting it before he could see it clearly.
"I'm sure."
"Wow." He sinks back into his chair, suddenly realising his new future. Vermont would be theirs, she would be making jam, and he? Well, maybe he would not be mayor, bu the would be something, at least.
"Yeah, wow."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Only a few days after the win of the first female president, Sally Langston, former president Grant and his girlfriend Olivia Pope welcomed a baby girl into the world. The news was kept mum on for a while, but we now have the hot off the press news that their baby has been born. Details, or pictures, of their baby won't be found. The press secretary James Novak has released a statement earlier this morning informing the world of the birth, but also of the couple's wish for privacy and time with their newborn baby.
We will keep you updated as more information is released.
"I think Catherine is a nice name," he says, peering down on the baby that is swaddled in yellow blankets.
"No, not Catherine," she protests, stroking one finger across her cheek.
"Why not?" he asks, incredulous at her immediate dismissal of the name.
"I had a friend in high school with that name, and I didn't lik her," she says matter of factly. "What about Michelle?"
"Too modern." She glares at him. "How about… Emily?"
"Emily Louise Grant, that's nice, but a bit pretentious." He shoves her gently, teasing the harshness that she shut every name down with. "How about… Nathalie."
"Why don't we stick with Elisabeth, like we decided before?" he asks.
"Because she doesn't look like an Elisabeth, and I was hormonal when I agreed to that name… I like Mathilde, we could call her Mattie."
"She does look like a Mattie…", he confesses. "Mathilde Louise Grant, Mattie Louise Grant."
"Do we have a name?" She smiles at him.
"I think we do."
I would like to mention at the end of this story that I am 100% pro-choice, and that I had intended to write a story where she had one, but at the end I decided not to since it's a fanfic and doesn't need to be 100% realistic, and I managed to convince myself that maybe it would not be what Olivia Pope would chose.
Anyway, R&R and I will be happy!
EDIT: After a few reviews I felt the need to edit this disclaimer at the end. The reason why I put this is because there is a huge amount of anti-choice discourse on this website, and in no way did I want to insinuate that people who are pro-choice don't decide to have children, or go through a pregnancy (my mother is pro-choice and she went through 4 pregnancies with 5 children!). It was simply that which I wanted to say, and the late hour (around 3am) made my ability to express myself... well I wasn't as eloquent.
I would also like to inject that it is not a "choice" to be pro-life, more like a... making (a) choice(s) for others. Our right to chose is a huge part of a democratic and well functioning society.