One Last Minute

It's different this time. Olivia remembers every time before, where it happened, how many precious few minutes they had. She remembers how it felt in the dark—it was always dark—and the sounds and the little touches. She remembers every time he told her that he loved her.

But this time it's different. There is light this time and she can see everything; the hard line of his back as he stands in front of the window looking down at the city that she controls better than he ever will, hands in his pockets, head bowed. His jacket is off and his tie is hanging limply around his neck like a noose.

Olivia moves towards the bar and selects an elegant bottle filled with amber liquid and pours a glass. She pads across the room after kicking off her heels, catches his wrist where it's buried in his pocket and puts the scotch in his hand. He takes it without a word and lifts it to his lips, eyes never leaving the window.

Olivia now knows what it's like to be married to Fitzgerald Grant.

The hotel restaurant is neutral territory, one they have never been to before, with food neither of them really enjoy but they didn't come to eat. He is already there when she arrives, straight from work not bothering to change. He stands to greet her and Olivia lets him kiss her cheek because it is a small battle compared to the ones they are about to have.

"I ordered you a bottle of wine," he says and Olivia smiles because he's gotten really good at that, at making her decisions for her.

"Thank you."

Fitz clears his throat and Olivia relaxes. Her mind has been made up for too long now to let anything he has to say sway her, but there are things that need to be said and things she needs to hear.

"I lied to you," is his opening line, just before the sommelier comes by and pours her a glass of the most expensive red the restaurant offers. Olivia waits, eyes never leaving his. "When I said the Secret Service agents do what I say. I didn't send them to get you. Cyrus did."

Olivia considers his words and wraps her fingers around the stem of the glass. "I see."

"He said I was ticking," he offers and Olivia thinks that only someone who has been intimately acquainted with Cyrus Beene would understand that.

"And were you?"

"I always am, when it comes to you."

She waits for him on the bed, lets him sip slowly at his scotch without saying anything. She knows that she could open her mouth and call his name and he would come to her in an instant but Olivia waits because in a strange, sadistic sort of way…this is nice.

All the other times were a rush and a blurry whirlwind of sensation that couldn't be properly savored because there was never enough time or enough privacy. Olivia has lost count of how many times she's been pushed up against walls or how many times she's climbed on top of desks for him. The urgency and the fear, always the fear of being caught punctuated every single encounter. Words and feelings that should have been said and felt got lost in the flurry and left Olivia with pieces missing to the puzzle that was this terrible, wonderful thing between them.

Olivia is incomplete. They both are. But for the first time, there is time. The irony isn't lost on her and she can read it sitting heavy on the defeated dip of Fitz's shoulders.

So she reclines on the bed and watches the hard line of his back, trying to memorize the mournful cant of his brow and the way his arms look with his sleeves rolled up and how his fingers drum restlessly against the side of his glass.

He will come to her when he is ready and Olivia is willing to wait for as long as he needs. One final courtesy, even though he has done nothing to deserve it.

"I'm sorry," Fitz says. Olivia lowers her glass. "For everything. For putting you through this, for everything that I said in the forest. I'm sorry."

She studies his face, and then nods. "I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

"For taking my clothes off when you asked me to." Olivia sips her wine, watching Fitz lean back into his chair, expression absolutely blank. "That was the most humiliating moment in my life. Standing in the woods and letting you talk to me like that."

Fitz closes his eyes. "Olivia—"

"And as angry as I was at you, I was even angrier at myself because I stood there and took it." She shakes the hair out of her face. "The night I chose your room over mine on the campaign trail, I gave you power over me. For the longest time I tried to tell myself that I didn't or at least if I did, you wouldn't use it against me. And for a while, you didn't. Until two weeks ago. So yes, I'm sorry I took my clothes off when you asked me to."

Fitz lets out a breath. "What happened in the forest…I should never have done that. I am truly sorry for that, Olivia. You and Senator Davis are none of my business."

"I understand, Fitz. No kid likes when another kid picks up his toy," she says, bringing her lips to the rim of her glass.

Fitz goes rigid. "You sound like my wife," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Olivia's lips twitch, but it isn't a smile, not by a long shot. "No, I don't. And maybe that's the crux of the problem."

When Fitz finally sets the glass of scotch on the sill, Olivia stands up.

He moves over to her slowly, every step a trial, and his head is still bowed. Misery is written on his face and when he opens his mouth, Olivia presses her fingers against it and shakes her head. There are already too many words between them. She trails one hand down the column of his throat to his collar to fully undo his tie and Olivia can read in his eyes exactly what he's remembering, watching her do it. His eyes clench closed and he looks away, letting out the smallest breath.

Olivia pulls it from his chest and sets to work on the buttons at the base of his throat. He swallows under her fingertips, the barest ripple beneath skin and muscle and Olivia leans up to kiss the spot. Fitz makes a noise and his arms come around her and now, Olivia lets herself begin to savor this.

"I love you," he says finally, and it's toneless. His eyes wander up to hers when she doesn't reply. "I love you. Please believe me."

"Why does it matter whether or not I do?"

"You are the love of my life." Olivia laughs and shakes her head because when the hell has that ever been enough? "I'm sorry."

"I don't care if you're sorry or not," Olivia says. "The only thing that I care about is that you understand, really understand, what I'm trying to tell you." She waits until he looks up at her before going on. "I am better than this. I am better than being someone you can't touch in public, someone who has to skulk around in the dark and live off ten minute phone calls and I am better than being told in the middle of a fucking forest that I'm not allowed to be happy, that I have to stay lonely and miserable because you can't handle the thought of another man being everything for me that you can't be."

Fitz looks away from her, jaw tensing. She expects a repeat of what happened in the forest. In fact, she wants a repeat, if nothing else than to further justify just why she's doing this. But the fight has gone out of him.

She pours herself another glass of wine.

She parts his shirt like she would a curtain and glances up to find his eyes still closed, face turned away. One small hand reaches up to cup the side of his jaw and tilt his head towards her and she brushes her thumb over the line of his cheekbone.

Fitz opens his eyes and the pain in them steals the breath from her and for the first time since coming in here, she hesitates.

But his own hand comes up to hold hers. A tender kiss is dropped on her palm. Olivia pulls him down to the bed.

"I'm letting you go," he say softly and it's like a lightning bolt through her body.

"What?" she whispers.

He looks up at her. "It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Olivia swallows. "I…didn't think I'd ever hear you say it." And now that he finally has, everything that she thought she was sure of unravels inside of her.

Fitz kisses like a symphony, like a million different sounds and sensations coming together in a beautiful, complicated harmony. He kisses her like she's oxygen, like she's the only thing in the world he needs to survive and Olivia kisses him back, burying her hands in his hair.

And no, it's not like the other times because they are slow and careful and trying to prolong everything, trying to catalogue tastes and touches and noises. But there is desperation here too and Olivia realizes that maybe it wasn't all about not having enough time or enough privacy. Maybe it was just them, their need to have each other.

And she wonders how she's ever going to be able to let him go.

"I can't keep doing this to you," Fitz says and his voice breaks at the last. "I can't keep hurting you and you're right. You're absolutely right. You have a right to find your own happiness."

Olivia bites her lip and takes another sip of the wine, trying to smother the ache in the back of her throat as she watches him grapple for words.

"I have no right to keep you from that and I'm sorry—I am so sorry—for acting like I did. But none of this matters, does it?" he asks quietly, surveying her. "You would have left anyway."

Olivia nods and she wishes it didn't hurt so much to tell the truth. "Yes, Fitz. I would have left anyway."

They undress each other slowly and Olivia's hands shake as she pushes his shirt from his shoulders. She maps his torso with her hands, over wiry hair and weather-roughened skin and tight muscles and prays that this memory will be enough to sustain her on nights when the loneliness chokes the breath from her body. Fitz watches her, eyes hooded with passion and grief but the passion wins out in the end, just like it always does. He unbuttons her blouse and his fingers are shaking, too. They fumble with her belt and his breathing is unsteady and Olivia catches his hands in hers.

She doesn't speak, doesn't try to tell him that it's all right because it isn't, none of this is, but this is all they have and it will have to do. Together, they manage to unbuckle her belt and the second her skirt is off, Fitz pushes her back into the bed and trails a line of kisses on her stomach, clutching at her thighs as he slides down her body.

When Fitz finally buries his face between her legs, the ache in her heart fades away and all Olivia knows is bliss. She is wound tighter than the strings on a violin as he licks and teases her with his tongue and it shouldn't feel this good, it shouldn't feel like the first fucking time but it does and Olivia feels tears slide out of her eyes even as she arches and comes under his lips, too far gone to even think to muffle her sounds.

There is silence at the table. Neither of them knows what to say and it stretches on like an endless highway before Olivia, one that she doesn't know how to navigate alone.

"This was never going to work," she murmurs.

Fitz looks up. "Is that how you went about this, this whole time? Waiting for the bottom to drop out?"

"I never had the luxury to put it out of my mind fully, but no," she says. "There were moments when I really thought that we…"

"If I resigned tomorrow, would it change anything?" he asks. There is the smallest glimmer of hope in his voice and god, it shatters Olivia's soul.

She shakes her head, slowly and sadly and when Fitz looks away, she has to swallow a sob. "Too much has happened. It's…I can't, Fitz. I can't."

"I know. I know, I'm sorry. I just…"

She has just enough time to wipe the tears away from her cheeks as Fitz kisses his way back up her body, his own a delicious weight against hers but he pauses when he sees her face and Olivia knows that he knows. It always was impossible to hide anything from him.

Before he can say anything, Olivia reaches up to kiss him, groaning because she can taste herself on his mouth—how is she ever going to survive without this taste?—and sits up, forcing him to do the same so she can work at his own belt.

He is hot and hard when she finally gets his pants open enough to slip her hands inside to grip him and she thrills when he gasps. Then, he is pushing her hands away, shaking his head.

"No, don't, I—too close."

And Olivia thinks fuck that and she plants her hands on his chest and uses all the strength she has post-orgasm to shove him. It's probably more surprise that has him falling back, head against the pillows and Olivia is on him in an instant; he will not keep her from this. She yanks his pants down and covers his pelvis in kisses before taking him in her mouth and then it is his turn to gasp and arch up.

When he looks at her, his eyes are beginning to redden. "I just don't know how to be with you."

"Neither do I," she says. When Fitz reaches for her hand, Olivia lets him take it.

It doesn't last long. Fitz pushes at her shoulders and Olivia whines when he makes her stop. His face is red and he's awkwardly trying to pull her up.

"Come here."

He kisses her and she nips at his lips and strong arms come around to pull her flush against his body.

"Ride me," he rasps, voice harsh and breathless against the shell of her ear, making Olivia shudder. She nods and can't even hate herself for doing what he asks in this moment. She reaches behind her, takes him in one hand and situates herself above him.

The moment they connect, Olivia thinks she might die. Her head falls back as she lowers herself onto him and there is suddenly not enough air in the room. She registers the fact that he is gasping her name into her ear and dragging his tongue along the side of her jaw and it makes her moan and she does not let herself think that this will be the last time she ever feels this again.

Olivia moves against him slowly and steadily despite the fact that her heart is racing and she can feel his pounding under her hand. She makes herself go slow, rolls her hips into his and forces herself to watch him as she moves, to study every flicker of movement on his face and swallow every breath he lets out. Sweat slickens her body's glide against his and the friction is almost too much for her to bear.

Fitz watches her too, the beautiful blue of his eyes only a thin ring, rimming dilated black pupils. He soaks her in with his eyes and with his hands, running them over her shoulders and back and hips before looping them around the small of her back and pulling her closer. But he doesn't move, doesn't rock his hips; he lets her set the pace and it feels like an apology.

Olivia kisses him and hopes he knows that she forgives him.

"The last thing I ever wanted to be was your mistake," she tells him, fingernails skating along the surface of his palm before she squeezes his hand.

"You could never be a mistake, Liv."

Olivia is gasping now and Fitz buries his face in the crook of her neck. "Please, Liv. Let me—"

"Yes. Yes."

And at the first shift of his hips, Olivia cries out.

"I wanted this," Fitz says softly, looking into her eyes. "I wanted this to work."

"So did I."

"Faster," Olivia demands, keening when Fitz quickens his pace, driving up into her even harder. His teeth graze her neck, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to leave a mark that she knows will make her cry the day it fades completely.

Fitz topples them backwards, pinning Olivia to the bed and her legs go up around his hips to drag him forward and there is barely a pause before he plunges back in. His hands find hers and he drags them above her head before lacing her fingers between his own and Olivia arches against him, gasping. Fitz swoops down and captures her lips.

Pleasure rolls over her in waves and she trembles under him. Every cant of his hips drives her closer and closer to the edge and she wants to fight it, wants to prolong it because this is the last time and it can't be over so soon, they should have had more time. There should have been more dinners and he should have met her parents and she wanted to be in a restaurant with him some day and watch him get down on one knee. She wanted to make him breakfast in the morning and go on vacations with him, she wanted to watch him grow old and look at her when he was in his seventies and smile the exact same smile he had given her so many times on the campaign trail.

"Olivia," he says and his voice is thick with pleasure and it's not right because Olivia wants that too, she is so tired of pain.

I hate you, she thinks as the sensation crests and as she gasps and clings to his hands, the only thing anchoring her, keeping her here on earth. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—

"I love you," he says, bringing her hand to his mouth. "I love you so much, Liv. Please believe me."

Her orgasm is pleasure without relief but it sends her bowing up into him and crying out and digging her heels against the backs of Fitz's thighs and he shudders above her, gasping into her hair, his hands a vice around hers.

"Olivia."

"I believe you," Olivia says, feeling her eyes dampen. "I believe you and I love you, too."

But it's not enough and they both know it.

Fitz pulls his hand away from hers and finishes his own drink, expression empty. He rises from the table and unearths a card from his pocket.

"705," he says softly. "No matter what you decide…I wish you happiness, Olivia."

Olivia doesn't watch him leave. She buries her face in her hands and takes several unsteady breaths. She will have the rest of her life to cry over this.

The card sits on the table. Olivia looks at it. She knows that no matter how angry she is at him, when she walks through the threshold of that room it wall all fall away. He'll transform under her fingertips and find his heart again. But Olivia won't be able to get lost in it this time, not again.

Ten minutes later, she is swiping the card into 705. The light in the room is on and Fitz is standing at the window, his back to her. Olivia steps inside and the door swings behind her, closing with a heavy sound.

A/N: So...yeah, this is not as polished and tweaked as I normally like a story to be before I post it, but I had to get it out. And it's sort of fitting that it's a bit raw. Yeah.

Never Easy, Always Worth It is still in the works, I just had to take a detour to get out my Hunting Season feels. -eyetwitch- I hope you guys enjoyed!

A/N #2: I just wanted to add this as a sidenote here, because a couple of people have already said things to me on the subject. This has no bearing whatsoever on this story or any others that I write, but here it is:

I do not ship Fitz/Olivia on the show. I used to, in season one, but I don't anymore.

The only reason I'm bringing this up is because I'm active on other parts of the Internet (mostly LiveJournal) and I'm pretty vocal in my dislike for the pairing and I'm extremely critical of Fitz in particular, and I didn't want anyone recognizing me somewhere else hating on the pairing and thinking I'm a closet shipper or a hypocrite or anything.

But I dig the concept of a complicated, frustrating relationship (clearly; I write about it) and my dislike of them on the show won't stop me from exploring possibilities in fanfiction. So I guess you can say I don't ship them on the show, but I'm a fan of them in fandom. If...that makes sense, yeah.

Anyway, yes. Just wanted to add that. Party rock.