Disclaimer: I don't own Scandal or any of the characters
This is my first Scandal fan fiction. Just as a warning, it's probably not going to be a particularly happy story but hopefully you'll enjoy it. Very Abby-centric with David and some appearances by other characters too. It takes place sometime in season 2 shortly after Abby stole the Cytron card from David. Anything that happens in the show after that won't be included.
Abby was tired. It had been an extremely long week and all she wanted to do was sleep. But for some reason, she just couldn't do it. Her body was weak and she could barely move, but her brain was racing. And then it began. The thing she had worked so hard to suppress, to hide in the deepest corners of her memories, had come back. It had been so long since this had happened, but it wasn't new at all. Behind her closed eyelids, she saw his face. His smug face, with that cruel look he'd get right before he hit her. All she could think about was how much it hurt, how he wouldn't stop, how the more she cried the harder his fists would slam into her body. The fact that these memories had come back wasn't surprising. It was hard, sure. Traumatizing, even. But surprising? No. It had happened before and she knew it would happen again. And even better, she knew exactly what to do to make it go away, at least temporarily so she could get some sleep.
Abby dragged her weary body out of bed and into the kitchen. She surveyed the alcohol that was in her pantry. Pushing passed the expensive wines, which tasted good but weren't useful now, she took a bottle of vodka off the shelf. Abby didn't even bother with a glass. She just opened the bottle, brought it back to bed with her, and drank until she passed out. It might not be the best way to fall asleep, but it was always dreamless and that was what she wanted.
She woke up to the sound of her alarm clock screaming at her, and clutched her head in her hands. The downside to her Charles-proof sleep method was the morning after, but Abby didn't care—she felt like even the splitting headaches were worth avoiding the memories of abuse. She left the vodka bottle (which was still surprisingly full—it had taken less than usual for her to pass out) on the nightstand—she'd probably need it later. After a hurried shower and an attempt to cover up her hangover with cute clothes and lots of makeup, Abby left her apartment, coffee in one hand, purse in the other. She quickly drove to work, gulping down the steaming liquid at every traffic light. Abby didn't relax until she was in the elevator on her way up to the office. That was when she let the shame of what she'd done the night before wash over her. After so many years of being apart, Charles was still controlling her. She was still on the defensive—protecting herself from all the trauma he'd put her through. And now, once again, she was going to have to lie about it to her friends.
Abby exited the elevator and could tell from the look on Olivia's face that she knew something was wrong, but Liv kept quiet—at least for now. Others did not offer the same courtesy.
"Are you okay?" Quinn asked. "You look like you're sick or something,"
"I'm fine," Abby replied. "Just happy to get started with another glorious workday in Washington." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and she felt a brief flash of guilt when she saw Quinn's hurt face. After all, Quinn was just trying to be nice. But Abby couldn't let herself care, if she took away her bitchy sarcastic façade everyone would be able to see the damaged woman underneath, and that was not a price she was willing to pay.
Liv came into the room then, her phone pressed to her ear.
"Senator, slow down. Okay. Okay. Yes. Is there a body? And a murder weapon? Okay. No. I'll send someone. Because I'm busy. Yes, I do have more important things to do than deal with your mistress. Well I'm sorry you feel that way. I know. I know we're the best, and like I said, I can send someone. Okay. Fine. Goodbye."
Abby cocked an eyebrow at Liv, and waited for an explanation.
"Senator Moore had a falling out with his mistress. He claims that he left her house after they argued but came back soon after because he felt guilty, and he found her lying dead in her living room. Harrison, Abby, go check out the scene, see if you think he's lying."
"Got it," Abby replied, as Harrison nodded his head. She grabbed her coat and her purse and the two headed out to interview the senator. When they got there, she was shocked at how much blood there was. Blood was splattered all over the couch, chairs, rug, and walls. Jennifer Lee was lying in the middle of the room, her entire midsection sliced up enough to see some of her internal organs. Senator Moore was sitting next to her, ignoring the blood, and cradling her head in his lap. Abby turned to Harrison.
"Do you think he did it?" She whispered.
He shrugged. "He would have had to change. He barely has any blood on him and whoever did this took the time to make sure it sprayed all over the room. I'll go check upstairs to see if there are any bloody clothes. You deal with that." He gestured with his head towards the crying man.
"Ooh, fun," she replied, smirking. She entered the room slowly. "Senator Moore? I'm from Olivia Pope and Associates, I was told you needed us." Her sentence lifted up at the end as though it was a question—she felt keeping a degree of uncertainty in her voice kept her from sounding too bossy and intimidating.
The man looked up at her, wiping his face with his hand. He gently removed Jennifer's head from his lap and laid it down on the floor, before standing up and walking over. He held out his hand to shake, but Abby just glanced at it. There was no way she was touching that blood covered hand—she hadn't even put on gloves yet.
Senator Moore looked down, and gave a slight nervous laugh. "Oh, right, sorry," he said, letting his hand drop to his side.
She smiled at him, before diving into the questions.
"So, who's the girl?" She asked, even though she knew the answer. It was best to verify all information through the client to make sure any holes in the story were discovered early.
"Her name's Jennifer. Jennifer Lee. We've been together for a few months."
"But you're married?"
His head dropped in shame. "Yes."
"Where's your wife?"
"In Michigan, visiting family."
"How much time have you spent here since your wife left?"
"I'm staying here with Jennifer. I love Jennifer. My wife and I—we were never happy. We never really loved each other. It was a political marriage—I needed a woman on my arm when I was running for Senate the first time."
A political marriage. His words bounced around her head. Her marriage was a political marriage too. Charles needed a woman on his arm too. They were never happy either. Abby shook her head to get the thoughts to go away.
"And you said you argued tonight?"
"Jenny wanted me to get a divorce. She wanted me all to herself. But I said I couldn't, not if I wanted any chance at reelection. She asked which I cared about more—reelection or her. I was angry that she wanted me to choose and I stormed out. But I felt bad and I came back, about 30 minutes later. That's when I saw her like this."
"Where did you go for half an hour?"
"I wanted to go get a drink at this bar—it's called Optyk Lounge—near my house but right when I got there I realized I should go back."
"So you were in the car the entire time?"
"Yes."
Just then, Harrison came back downstairs. "It's clean—I didn't find any weapons or blood anywhere else." He said.
"His alibi's crap—there's no way to prove it." She replied, before turning to the senator. "Unless—when you say you turned around when you go to the bar, does that mean you actually pulled into the parking lot?"
"Yeah, and I got out of the car and walked up to the door before I changed my mind. Does that change anything?"
"It might. Harrison, call Huck, tell him to go check out Optyk Lounge and see if there are any security cameras. Maybe one picked up the Senator or at least his car."
Harrison nodded before leaving the room. Abby turned back to the senator.
"You need to come with us back to the office."
"And leave her here?"
"Moving the body isn't necessary and makes it harder to find the actual killer. It'll probably be a few days until anyone sees she's dead and hopefully by then we'll have either found evidence to cement your alibi or prove someone else did it. Until then, we need you at the office."
"Can I say goodbye?"
"Don't touch her again. We really don't need more of your prints on the body."
Senator Moore walked over to the body and knelt down next to her. "Goodbye, Jenny." He whispered. "I love you." He cried for a few minutes and then stood up, wiped his eyes, and followed Abby and out to her car, where Harrison was waiting for them.
"Senator Jacob Moore, age 45, hails from the great state of Michigan. Married to Eileen Moore, who's currently back home and unaware of her husband's escapades with the victim, Ms. Jennifer Lee, 30. Jennifer lived alone in a house in Tenleytown, about 15 minutes away from the senator's residence. She was brutally murdered this morning while the senator was on his way to a bar. Really? A bar? At 9 o'clock in the morning he felt the need to go to a bar?"
"Abby..." Olivia warned.
"Sorry. Anyways, our little morning drinker saw the errors of his ways and returned to his girlfriend's home to find her blood all over her living room, and her dead body on the floor. Or so he says. I'm not a hundred percent convinced he didn't kill her to shut her up."
"Abby!"
"Fine, maybe he's not a murderer, who knows. Whatever, that's all we have so far."
"I checked out the bar. There are a few security cameras outside. Nothing major, I should be able to hack in quickly." Huck added.
"Great, keep me posted," Olivia said before walking out of the room.
That night, Abby returned home to her empty apartment and sighed at what she knew was about to come. And she was right. The second she lay down in bed and closed her eyes she saw his face. Images played in front of her as though she were watching a movie—his fists slamming her, his empty liquor glasses flying towards her, his rage when she managed to avoid them. She didn't want to think about this, she was so tired, so she did what she knew how to do—drank herself to sleep. And then the next morning when her alarm went off, she got up and started the whole process over again. This lasted for about a week. During that time, the team discovered that the senator's wife had in fact known about the affair. That she had hired someone to kill Jennifer and frame her husband. Eileen was arrested; Senator Moore's name was cleared. Another case was a victory, and OPA was happy. But not Abby. The memories had never plagued her for this long before and it was mentally, physically, and emotionally tearing her apart. After a week of pretending that everything was fine, she gave up. She unplugged her alarm clock and stopped answering her phone. Everything seemed fine now. She could stay in the protective bubble of her apartment with her bed, and her alcohol, and her mind-numbing television shows. So maybe this wasn't how she'd planned on living. People adapt, right? She convinced herself that this was just her adapting to an unpleasant situation.
One day, Olivia knocked on the door. Abby knew what to do—she'd hid her life from her friends for a long time when she was with Charles. She hid the bottles under her bed, threw on some acceptable clothing, and ran a brush through her hair, before answering the door. But despite her best effort, Abby could tell that Olivia saw right through her.
"Abby?" She whispered, her eyes wide. "What happened?"
Abby laughed coldly. "Nothing happened, I'm fine."
"Abby."
"Look, I'm just a little sick, okay? I need to take some time off work to rest. I'll be back soon, I promise." And with that, Abby shut the door in Liv's face.
Later that night, Abby realized she was out of alcohol. She knew she could just go pick some up at the store, but she'd been craving a cocktail so she decided to visit a bar near her apartment. She half-heartedly picked out a dress that was semi-worthy of a bar, and put a little makeup on her face. She was only on her first drink, when she saw someone who she'd desperately hoped she wouldn't have to see.
"You look like crap," David said.
Abby gave him a small smirk. "You do too," she replied, but it was a lie. He looked great, and all of the love she'd felt for him came flooding back. She knew he didn't trust her after she'd taken the Cytron card, but that didn't stop her from loving him. And suddenly Abby realized that maybe this was another way to get her mind off of Charles. She quickly gulped down the rest of her drink and then turned to him.
"Buy me a drink?" She asked, recycling the line he'd used on her before they slept together for the first time. She could tell by the expression on his face that he remembered.
"Sure," he replied, gesturing towards the bartender and ordering her favorite drink for her. She loved the fact that he knew her regular order. They stayed at the bar for a while, getting more and more intoxicated—which was saying something as Abby had pretty much been in a drunken haze for the past three weeks. There was something about being there with David again that made Abby feel safe and secure, and she was willing to let her guard down and have a little fun, something her life had been lacking for a long time. He came back with her to her apartment just like he had their first night together. Normally, she would have remembered the clothes scattered around, the empty liquor bottles, and the empty takeout containers of a few weeks worth of delivered food. Normally, she would have though of all of that and realized that there was no way she could let someone come into her home. But she was having such an amazing time and she forgot.
Abby awoke with a start. She rolled over and was startled to feel herself hit another body. Suddenly memories of the previous night came flooding back to her. Meeting David at the bar. Drinking with David. Inviting David to come home with her. The sex with David. The sex was amazing, but it always was with him. The relationship part was where they had trouble—the sex was never a problem. And last night was especially great since they hadn't had sex in so long. Not since that day when she found out the truth about his ex-girlfriend. Those perfect few hours when they were finally happy again until she ruined everything by stealing the memory card. But she had to steal it, right? Olivia had needed it. That's what Harrison had said, and so Abby did her job. But why did they always have to blindly follow Olivia? For once couldn't she just tell them why she needed something? Wouldn't that be the courteous thing to do?
"Abby..." David groaned, pulling Abby away from her thoughts. "What time is it?"
Abby opened her eyes and glanced at her alarm clock before remembering that she's unplugged it. She reached for her phone, but it was off. "I don't know."
David groaned again, and sat up rubbing his eyes. He surveyed the room and his eyes widened.
"Oh my God, Abby." He said.
"What?" She asked, sitting up. She glanced over at him and then out at her room. When she realized what he was looking at, she froze. All of those things that she'd meant to keep hidden were there for him to see. There were empty bottles of tequila and vodka lying on the floor, clothes strewn around, food bits and containers covering every surface. She had been living in squalor for three weeks and he was first person to witness it.
David put on his glasses and walked over to the other side of the room. He picked up a couple of empty liquor bottles.
"What the hell is going on?" He asked.
"So, it's been a rough couple of weeks, big deal," she replied. She knew it was a pretty weak defense, but it was all she could come up with. She had never planned on having to explain the situation to anyone.
"Abby..."
She shrugged. "What do you want me to say, David? Would it make you feel better if I lied? My life is great. I love every second of it. I just want it to stay the same forever. There, happy?"
"Of course I'm not happy. I didn't realize things were so bad. Olivia never said anything."
"Okay, let me just set the record straight. First, Liv does not know what's going on and you most certainly aren't going to tell her. Second, this has nothing to do with you, so don't try to be all guilty and shame-ridden. This is completely independent of you and that stupid Cytron card. Third, I'd really like it if you left now. Your clothes are on the floor, you can see yourself out."
Abby lay back down in bed and closed her eyes. She heard David's footsteps as he left her apartment. She focused on falling back to sleep and suddenly realized that Charles was gone. His face wasn't there anymore. After weeks of trying to get rid of him, David Rosen had helped her accomplish it in one night.
Please review! I definitely have ideas about how I want to continue this story so I'd appreciate reviews to know that people would want to read more chapters.