A/N: What if Liv and Fitz had been on good terms/together when she was kidnapped and he didn't end up going to war for her? This is a re-write of the ending of 4x13, because I'm still mad at Shonda for leaving poor traumatized Liv alone in her apartment that night.

They look disappointed when she sends them away, especially Jake, but there's only one person she wants to see right now. If she can't be with him, she'd rather be alone tonight.

And then, suddenly, he's there. Olivia opens the door and he's just there.

Fitz takes a step forward and draws her into his arms, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. She returns the embrace, weaving her fingers through his curls and letting her eyes drift closed. She leans into it when he pulls her body flush against his, nuzzling her cheek against his hair. They hold each other for long moments just breathing, existing, enjoying the contact. She relaxes against him and exhales slowly. They unconsciously sway back and forth a little.

Memories of the past two weeks wash over Fitz for what feels like the thousandth time. Having her pressed against him and feeling her chest rise and fall with each breath helps to ease the sheer terror that grips him at the thought of losing her. He moves both hands to the small of her back and holds her a little tighter.

One minute.

She'll never have to admit how shaken up she is, how badly she needs him to ground her, because he already knows. He's strong and solid against her and it's exactly what she needs. The tension is starting to leave her body, finally, and she makes a soft, contented sound in the back of her throat.

That triggers something, and she feels it when he almost loses control. She feels his breath quicken against her skin, his body conveying the emotions he's trying so hard not to express.

"Hey," she soothes, gently easing his face away from her neck and looking up into his eyes. "It's over. I'm right here."

He looks down, exhaling heavily, before meeting her eyes again. He leans in, bringing his hands up to cup her face. His thumbs trace her cheekbones slowly, reverently. She watches his brow furrow as he struggles to find the words. "I just, I thought—" He stops, swallows hard.

"I know."

She brings her forehead to his, doesn't make him finish his sentence.

Fitz kisses her then, gently at first, his hands running over her face, moving to thread through her hair. One kiss turns into a series of soft kisses, each lasting a little longer than the one before until everything else falls away and they're kissing slow and deep. Olivia moans into his mouth as his hands clutch her closer and start to wander, sliding firmly over her lower back and then around to cradle her hips. After days of rough and unwanted touches, his hands on her body feel like sinking into a hot bath and suddenly she needs him to touch her everywhere. Tears sting her eyes and a sob gets stuck in her throat as she lays her hands over his. Liv breaks their kiss and drops her face to his shoulder, guiding his hands in a slow caress up over her belly and breasts, then back down to her hips.

Fitz lets her lead him, sensing that what she's doing is about comfort, not sex. She lets go of his hands and wraps her arms under his shoulders so that they're holding each other again.

"Missed you," she whispers into his neck, uncharacteristically vulnerable. He gives her hips a gentle squeeze and smoothes his palms up and down her sides a few times.

Secret service knocks on the front door and she pulls away with a gasp, jumping so violently she nearly knocks her forehead against his jaw.

"It's okay, its just secret service," he reassures her, "They have a phone for me, we left in such a hurry I didn't grab one." She nods her head, unconsciously grabbing fistfuls of her jacket to help keep her hands from shaking so badly.

He presses a kiss against her forehead and then goes to answer the door, momentarily eyeing the plethora of new locks.

While he talks with the secret service agents, a wave of mind-numbing exhaustion hits her. She sinks down onto the couch and takes a deep breath, suddenly a little nauseous. Trying to remember the last time she had eaten or slept, Liv wraps the coat she's still wearing tighter around her body and leans forward. The brightness around the edges of her vision clears away and she takes another measured inhale.

"Livvie?"

He slowly crosses the room and crouches down in front of her, meeting her gaze. For the first time, he's struck by how utterly exhausted she looks. Her eyes are glassy and vacant for a moment before she's with him again.

"You should go," she says quietly, looking down at her ruined couch, "You need to—"

"Stop, I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm not leaving you alone."

She stares at him for a few seconds, familiar feelings of guilt creeping over her at the fact that she's keeping him from his very important job. But at the same time, god if she doesn't want him to stay and hold her while she sleeps, preferably for the better part of the next twenty-four hours. She's so tired and she's never slept as well as she does in his arms. She's missed him terribly and if she's completely honest with herself, the only thing she wants right now is Fitz.

Fitz watches the internal struggle going on behind her eyes, knowing that he's staying even if she tries to argue with him.

But she doesn't argue. Eventually, her eyes soften and when he tugs gently on her hands she comes willingly.

"C'mere," he murmurs, sitting down next to her.

She snuggles into his arms, head tucked under his chin. She breathes him in and aches with the relief of it, he feels so familiar and warm and perfect. She focuses on his hand tracing slow circles over her back, trying to match her ragged breaths with his steady, even ones.

They're quiet for a while. As the adrenaline completely leaves her system, exhaustion starts to really set in. He's removed his jacket, when he did that she's not sure, and the warmth of his chest is making her feel a little bit delirious.

"How are we doing?" he asks quietly, noticing that her breathing has evened out and she's drifting off.

She makes a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan.

"So tired."

She's mumbling now, head still pillowed beneath his chin.

"Want to shower…and then want to sleep for…a very long time…and then we're going to have a lot of life-affirming sex…"

"Yeah?" he chuckles, "Does eating factor anywhere into that plan?"

"Popcorn?" she suggests, hopefully.

"Nice try, real food first."

For the first time in weeks, she smiles.