A/N: My favorite non-romantic bond on the show is Olivia and Huck. I could always sense their deep connection and as the season has progressed, I've been beyond thrilled that they've explored it more. I feel like they're kindred spirits. There aren't a great deal of Huck fics out there, I've noticed, and not many Oluck fics either, so this is my feeble attempt at throwing something into the mix. This is my first Scandal fic. It's post "Seven Fifty-Two".

Disclaimer: These wonderful characters are not my own. I wouldn't know what to do with them if they were. "Stopping By the Woods On A Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost, does not belong to me either. Un-betaed and whipped together, so errors are all my own. Honest reviews are welcomed and appreciated.

~o~

The warmth of Olivia's hand in his was the last prompt Huck needed to rise from his spot in the corner. She gave him one final nod, brief but her eyes were wrought with pain, understanding, and fear. He silently nodded back at her, a thank you, an apology, and a promise all wrapped in one as he followed her out of the room awkwardly, stumbling through the numbness of his legs and feet after being unutilized for so long.

The others awaited them, concerned, relieved, utterly befuddled as to what may or may not have transpired between the two closed away in the room. But no questions were asked. They were Gladiators afterall. Gladiators didn't ask questions. They just did. Harrison stood there, all suaveness and ease, hands shoved leisurely in the pockets of his pants. A small nod of his head directed at Huck, brief eye contact, in an unspoken 'welcome back.' He cleared his throat and shifted back and forth on his feet. Abby regarded Huck, her head canted to the side, long auburn tresses tumbling over her shoulder. She gave a slight smile. Quinn was, well, Quinn. Bright doe eyes glistening with tears, she was all bounce as she bounded to him and barreled into his chest, squeezing him tightly, patting him awkwardly, and biting her lip. Huck patted her clumsily on the back before pulling away and heading towards the door.

"Huck?" Olivia asked. Her face was placid and her voice relatively steady but her eyes, her eyes gave way to the anguish and worry.

"I'm going home," he mumbled lowly. He held her gaze for a long moment before his eyes landed back on the floor, and before any of them had a chance to blink, he was gone.

~o~

Panic and anxiety rose in Olivia's chest as she stood outside the door to her apartment. She gripped her purse strap tightly, took deep breaths to relieve some of the fear that loomed over her, and opened the door on an exhale. Her brow furrowed, lips parted in a sigh, and the anxiousness she was experiencing seemingly dissipated when she noticed the black Chuck Taylors lined up against the doorframe.

It was always their sign.

She closed and locked the door behind her and tossed her keys into the decorative bowl on the table. Her heart nearly jumped up to her throat when she noticed the collection of wire taps and bugs littering her coffee table. There were so many…too many of them for her not to admonish herself for not noticing something. Seeing something. How could someone invade her home in such a way and she not notice? She was supposed to notice these things. Anything. Everything.

"T-there were two in the bedroom…inconspicuously hidden, of course. I got those ones already. None-none were in the bathroom. I checked and rechecked. I promise I checked. I really did…and, and I cleared them all. Those are it. I made sure I got all of them. This was high tech, really high tech. Whoever did this knew…they knew what they were doing…"

Huck's rapid rambling and bumbling brought her out of a fog. She seen that he had showered, and was wearing one of his old shirts he must have found in the back of her closet. She was never one to throw anything out. She had pieces of him everywhere, pieces of all the people who had stayed with her throughout the years. A nightgown that belonged to Quinn, an apron that was probably Abby's…cufflinks that were either Harrison's or Stephen's. She wasn't too sure.

"Chinese," he said quietly. He flopped on the couch, and only then did she notice the white cartons on the table and the glass of wine he must have poured, presumably for her. He didn't look at her or say another word; he merely flicked the television on and ripped open a pair of chopsticks. She shrugged out of her jacket and kicked off her shoes, sinking into the seat beside him. He handed her the other pair of chopsticks and one of the cartons and they ate in companionable silence.

They sat as they did a hundred times before. It was a routine, the same routine that they shared for years. That was what she loved about Huck. He was steady, solid, and he understood her. They understood each other. In such a way that they didn't typically require the words that most did. She knew not to press him any further on what had happened to him. Not until he was ready. Not unless he wanted to share. He knew that when she was done processing she'd tell him what had happened to her in time. All in due time. They didn't need to talk. They didn't need to fill the air with meaningless conversation. They didn't feel uncomfortable being silent. They didn't need to ask questions. They didn't need to know. They just needed the company of each other.

~o~

Olivia shifted fitfully, adjusting the white and black comforter and adjusting the pillow for the umpteenth time that night. She felt the tingling sensation that came with sensing that someone was staring at you. She felt that indescribable feeling in the air that signified a presence. His presence specifically.

"Huck," she stated rather than asked. Her voice was but a raspy whisper to her own ears. "You couldn't sleep."

She felt the bed dip beside her as he lay down on top of the comforter, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The moonlight cast a shadow on his face. She could only envision how exhausted he must have looked, though he never was one who got much sleep. She remembered the countless of nights she'd barely hear him pattering around in the kitchen or living room.

"I'm sorry," he murmured softly, his eyes never leaving the ceiling. "I should have known about the bugs and the taps. I-I, I should have, I will, I'll change the pattern for sweeps. I-should have never had a designated day. That was stu-that was stupid of me," he rambled on in quiet whispers.

"It's fine, Huck," she said quietly. She rolled onto her side so that she was facing him. Studied the stubble on his face, the pinched expression he got when he was upset with himself. She heard the frustration in his voice. She heard the desperation in it, and the weariness. He was tired.

"No-no, it isn't fine. I'll do better. I'll-we'll, we'll fine who did this," he countered his jaw tense.

"I already know," she sighed. Fleeting thoughts of Fitz and Jake flashed through her mind and betrayal washed all over her again.

"You know," Huck responded, his eyes flickered to hers for a split second before finding that spot on the ceiling again. If he was surprised at that he didn't express as much, but Huck was never one for expressing much of anything. Not often. Not with many. Only sometimes with her. "I can take care of them," he said flippantly as though he was speaking of picking up a carton of milk on the way home.

"Hey," she admonished her voice more forceful and loud than previously. She glared at him for a bit, giving up when he didn't return her gaze.

"I know," he said quietly, almost laughably begrudgingly. "I have to stop killing people."

The silence stretched on for a long while, and Olivia felt herself drifting off again.

"I wouldn't have-", Huck gurgled a bit, his voice choked as he fought off more tears. "I wouldn't have left you…I-I was just, I..." he stammered, choking through the words, on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Hey, Huck. Huck!" Olivia reached out to grab his face. His stubble scratched at the palms of her hands. "Look at me, Huck! Look at me!" she ordered, until eventually he acquiesced, bringing sad Bassett hound eyes up to meet hers. "I know. It's okay. I know. You just…you scared me. It's okay now." She said in hushed whispers, stroking his face with the pads of her thumb, swiping away what she imagines were tears. "You came back to me. You came back. Thank you for coming back to me. I don't think, I don't think I can-"it was her turn to get choked up and be at a loss for words. Olivia's vision got blurry as fresh tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. She took a shaky breath and flashed him a watery smile.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come for you sooner and…" she paused, thinking of all that had transpired in the past twenty-four hours, all the things that had emerged in the past few months. She brought her eyes up to meet his, her grip on his face, tighter as she urged him to feel the weight of her next words and just how deeply they ran. "I'm so sorry, Huck. I'm so sorry." She whispered. She nodded his head at him, as they both sniffled, knowing that what she was apologizing for was so beyond what either of them had the wherewithal to voice.

"I would never leave you alone," Huck said with such a quiet conviction that she felt overwhelmed.

His eyes bored into hers for what felt like an eternity. He was a man of few words, according to Harrison, the fewest words possible. He wasn't inclined to disagree with that assessment. Words were uncomfortable and complicated. Words were misleading. Actions always said more, body language, movements…generally he learned that those were what told the truth. And yet, with Olivia words were everything. He thought of each and every word that came out of her mouth earlier that day. He thought of their sincerity, their vulnerability, their truth. He thought about the way she practically broke down in front of him while saying them. He thought of the helplessness in her voice, the anguish in her face. He thought about how much she needed him, and though he knew it, consciously knew as much, there was something about her saying the words that was enough to bring him back to the present. She needed him, every bit as much as he needed her, and he hadn't had anyone truly need him for a really long time. The weight of that knowledge could be overwhelming for most, but for him it was the fuel that drove him. That knowledge is what helped him trudge thorough. That is what gave him purpose; it kept him from sinking into the abyss.

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep." He whispered in awe as a forgotten memory struggled to bring itself to the surface.

"Robert Frost," she replied, in wonderment and confusion. "I always liked that part. I feel like…" she paused. "That part always spoke to me. It's one of my favorites," she sighed. She brought her face closer to his and rested her head on his shoulder. Bright eyes searched his, but he had refused to meet her gaze.

"I think," Huck let out a shaky breath as he rested his cheek on the top of Olivia's head and sniffled. His voice was thick with tears. "I think it was her favorite too." He whispered, his voice small, almost child-like.

Olivia looked up at him, she sniffled, nodding against his neck and regarding him with watery brown eyes. She pressed a kiss to the edge of his jaw and her hand found his. She gave him a comforting squeeze. "Why don't you tell me more about her?" she said softly.

"I-I think she smelled like vanilla…" he whispered back, his eyelids fluttering closed.

~o~