He is walking to her apartment, a bottle of wine in a shaky hand. They need to talk about the fight, they need to talk about last night. The things they said, the things he said, ringing in his head. What he's done flashing in front of his eyes. He has to tell her. It will break her, but she'll forgive him. She has to. Eventually. He'll give her time. He'll give her space. He'll wait. She'll forgive him one day. Not because he deserves it, he doesn't, but because she deserves happy, and he, he makes her happy. He doesn't know how, or why, but he does. They said things, things they screamed, things they didn't mean. This will hurt her, he knew, but he will fix it, he will fix her.

And he's climbing up the stairs, it's a race. He's at her door, knocking, his heart thumping in his chest as he hears the approaching steps; but it's not her that opens them.

"Oh, hi Abby. Liv in?" And he can tell, her face is a giveaway, something's wrong, there's something he doesn't know.

"She's gone."

"What do you mean she's gone?" This isn't right. It must be a joke, a prank. She's getting back at him for that fight.

"She's gone. She left."

"Well when is she coming back?"

"She's not."

"What do you mean she's not? She's meant to start law school in three days."

"She transferred?"

"What? Where?"

"She said you shouldn't look for her. She said to move on and let it be." And she's giving him a look, a look he doesn't understand, filled with blame, filled with despise, disgust filling her eyes.

"Abby, you have to tell me where she is, I need to talk to her!" He's desperate and confused. How did she find out, no, he has to explain, to make it right.

"No, sorry." She's not. He can tell and she wants him to. She wants him to know, it's all his fault. "I have to get back to studying. Goodbye Fitz. And… don't bother coming around, she is gone." She steps away, and slowly turns around to close the door, but then he can tell, she's having second-thoughts. She looks straight into his eyes, in hers there's just despise, "You broke her heart you know." And with that she's gone, and he's standing in the hallway alone.

He'll find her, and he'll make it right; he will put up a fight.

"Fitz, wait up." And it's the last person he wants to talk to now, but he stops and turns around.

"Mellie, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, you left these at my place last night, so I just wanted to drop them off."

And the ding of the elevator snaps him out of the memories, bringing him back to reality. He presses the number, and the doors close. And with every flashing light, with numbers going up, he can feel his heart beating faster, his palms are sweating, his throat closing up. What made him think this was a good idea? He hasn't seen her in fifteen years. He hasn't seen her, or heard from her. But loving her, loving her was the one constant in his life. And with that thought, the simple realization, the little truth, he is calm again – this is where he needs to be, she is who he needs to see.

He's at her door, knocking, his heart thumping in his chest as he hears the approaching steps; but it's not her that opens them. And the image before him takes his breath.

"Hello." The little girl before him is looking at him amused, a little smile playing in her eyes. She can tell he's taken aback, she can see he's struggling.

"Zo, I told you not to get the door on your ow…" And her voice is gone; her mind painfully slow. It's the last person she expected to see, the one she most wanted it to be.

"I'm sorry." And the little girl is batting her lashes at her mother, looking at her with her warm eyes, trying to charm.

"We'll talk about it. Go get ready for bed, and I'll be there in a little bit." And the little girl is about to protest, but she knows better, she knows how to pick her fights, and her mother's tone is telling her, this is a losing one. With that she walks away, dragging her feet, for the dramatic effect.

"What are you doing here? You can't be here!"

"Hi." It's the first thing he says to her after fifteen years and she's just looking at him, stunned, lost in his eyes.

"You have a daughter?" He had imagined this moment a million times, and accounted for every single outcome, aside from this, aside from a little girl occupying her world.

"Yes." It's short. It's curt. It's distant. Like talking to a stranger. Telling them what they need to know, but no more. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" And she wants to say no, but she can't utter it. She's wanted this for years, she dreamed of it. She can't send him away, despite everything. "Livvie, please…" And with that she's gone, her mind made up. How does he have the same effect on her after all this time? She steps away and lets him through, lets him in, painfully aware that by closing the door, she's opening the floodgates to the past, ripping open the stiches that barely hold together her still gaping wounds; aware that letting him in is just giving him another chance to walk away. She's aware, but she can't turn him away. Clearly she hasn't suffered enough, she thinks to herself, refusing to look up.

"No one's called me that in years."

"I'm sorry, I can…"

"No, it's fine."

"So why are you here?"

"I'm sorry."

"Seriously? That's it."

"Yes."

"It's been fifteen years. It doesn't matter any more. You're married, you have kids, I have Zoey, it's in the past. It doesn't matter, not anymore." And she's barely pushing the words out. The lump in her throat is making it nearly impossible to speak, nearly impossible to breathe.

"I'm not married anymore. And it does matter. To me, it matters. I've spent fifteen years regretting that night, fifteen years of wanting to apologize."

And she chuckles, this can't be happening. No, she's not reliving it. "I'm not doing this."

"Livvie…" And he's walking over to her. He's in her personal space. He's pulling her in and bowing his head, their breaths hurried, the same. And her mind is racing, fighting, it's a battle in her head, reason pushing her to step away.

"No. You don't get to do this. You don't get to show up and say –Hi, and turn my world upside down. I don't want this. I don't want you. I moved on, I have a life. I don't want this." She's repeating it for herself, convincing herself, because she knows he's not buying it. "You don't get to come here and Livvie me, and do that thing where you make it impossible for me to think. You broke my heart, so no." And her voice is breaking. Damn it, she's losing her cool. She's coming apart at the seams.

"Mommy?" And the little girl is coming over, attaching herself to her leg, her eyes zooming between them.

"I'm fine. Mommy's fine. You ready for bed? Let's go tuck you in."

And with that she's leaving him, alone in her home; a place that was meant to be their home; that could have been their home. There are photos on the wall, always only the two young ladies; there isn't a man. And he's relieved, he knows he shouldn't be, he has no right, but he is. She's changed; she looks different, but then also the same. She's as beautiful as he remembers, maybe even more; still taking his breath away, still oblivious to the effect she has. But then he sees it, and stops in his tracks; it's a sign. There's a photo of two hands, intertwined, resting on the grass; a photo he took, a photo he kept, until she stole it one day, and moved it to her place. It's a photo of them.

"It's a great photo." He didn't hear her come out. Her voice is different now – she sounds broken. She sounds like him.

"I'm sorry… for coming" She's looking at him, not saying anything, letting him breathe, letting the words form. He knows what it means. She's giving him a chance. A moment to explain, to tell her, to change her mind, to mend her heart. She's giving him a moment for them. She's giving him one last chance to speak, a chance to make her see. "I just needed to see you. My divorce was finalized this morning, and you're the only person I wanted to tell. After fifteen years, you're still… you, and I'm me, and I just needed to see you, I needed my best friend. I need you to understand. Because, this morning it seemed like we could be a possibility, it seemed like we could be a maybe. I'm so sorry. It was one night. It didn't mean anything. I was hurt, I was drunk, I was stupid. You hurt me and I wanted to hurt you back… but not like that, never like that. I was just… I'm sorry."

"Well you managed to hurt me back." She says with a scoff. There's resentment in her voice, he knows, she's trying, trying so desperately not to fall apart.

"I asked you to marry me and you said no. I was hurt, I…"

And she cuts him off. No, this is not on her; this, this is on him. "I didn't say no. I said not now, not then. I said take a step back, take a breath. We were young. We were too young."

"You just didn't love me enough." And there's defeat in his voice, brokenness, vulnerability she's never seen before. She's taken aback, it's poking holes in her hard exterior.

"Is that what you thought?" And he's just looking at the floor. "I loved you. I loved you enough. More than enough, I loved you too much. But I wasn't ready; I hadn't grown up. I just needed time. And instead of giving it to me, instead of letting us be, you broke us up. You decided we were done."

"I'm sorry it was a mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake. It was a choice. You married her. You chose her."

And his hear sinks, of course, that's what she thinks. "She got pregnant. That night, she got pregnant. And in our world, our families – there was no way out of it. But if you'd just stayed… I would have fought, I would have thrown it all away. But no, you just left me, you walked away, you didn't let me explain."

"You never came after me."

"I'm here now. We deserve another chance. We are worth another chance. I demand another chance."

And they're standing there, feet away, worlds apart. He's beginning her, and she's fighting him; fighting everything – every emotion in her being. She can't do this again. No, she was right, she loves him too much, but she doesn't trust him enough. He broke her and she could heal, but if he did it again, she would no longer be.

"I can't. Not again. It's too late. We are over."

"We are not over. We will never be over." He said it with quiet conviction, his confident smile letting her know he meant it, warning her about what lay ahead. He walked to the door, pausing briefly before turning around one last time, rushing back to where she stood, unable to move. He slowly lowered his head, holding her chin up and kissed her, softly, slowly – just a reminder, a promise. "I'm not giving up. I love you, I always have, and I always will. And I will get you back, I will earn you again."

And with that he was closing the door behind him, leaving her stunned on the other side; leaving her feeling alive, more alive than she's felt in fifteen years, her fingers moving along her smiling lips.

I hope you liked that, let me know if you'd be interested in reading more :)