Chapter 2

"Is he going to stay asleep here? Just with me, I mean."

Jake can't help a sudden grin as Quinn rambles on nervously. He isn't aware that she's killed before. Otherwise, she wouldn't be alone in the anteroom with the baby. In fact, the fidgeting wouldn't be humorous any longer. Fortunately enough, he doesn't know much. He doesn't want to. Jake Ballard is simply happy to be alive and away from the hole.

"He should be fine. I think he's developed an avoidant attachment. In other words, strangers are a-okay in this little guy's book." Gently, as not to wake him, Jake caresses Harley's deep brown locks. "A few minutes. Stay here, relax. They'll debrief you once everything's done."

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"Mind telling me how the hell my 'client' is two years old?"

Jake's expression becomes impassive. She hates this and he knows it. "One year, ten months, and fifteen days."

"Excuse me?"

"You said he was two, when in fact he is one year, ten months, and fifteen days old."

"Even better," Harrison cuts in, sighing exasperatedly with a hand clamped over his face.

Jake simply stands beside the door, refusing to sit - as did Huck. B-613 men: Stand Tall, Be Strong, Show No Weakness.

"Harley Christopher Stewart isn't just a one year old," Jake continues, disappointment etched in his features. "You're all missing the bigger picture here, which can be found by merely thinking out of the box. Huck? I'm shocked." He doesn't witness the other man's slight grimace at his mock indignation. Jake removes a wad of papers from his pocket, neatly unfolds them all at once, and hands each to a respective gladiator. By pure instinct, they begin attaching the documents to the observation wall for closer examination.

Tapping on the first sheet, pointing at the collated photographs of Harley and a young, dark-skinned woman, Jake utters, "Harley C. Stewart, born October 10th, 2011. Son of Bailey Rhiannon, he was raised in a single-parent household. Unfortunately, his mother passed away precisely two weeks ago." He delves deeper into the child's history, jumping between files until he reaches the specific document pertaining to the issue at hand.

"Bailey's will. She left everything to Harley, save a check and letter written to Olivia personally. Harley has no living family remaining to take him in. Long story short, our mission-." He stops himself, dragging his index fingers through the air in a line connecting the others, "your mission is to bring him to his father. The name is, ah, written on this card." Jake carelessly tosses it atop the conference table, along with a thick envelope. "All I've got."

Harrison can't even lean over to grab the evidence before Jake has left again. Unfortunate, for the name shocks him. It can't be true.

"Mayor Stewart," Harrison reads, looking up seconds later to see Olivia's involuntary flinch.

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Quinn is shutting the front door when Olivia all but attacks her. "Where is he?"

"Jake? He left a few minutes ago - he took the kid. I showed him out. He was going home. Why? Do you need him?"

"Don't worry about it." Liv forces a smile, heading back to the conference room with Quinn on her tail this time.

"Who the hell is that?" Harrison demands, rising from his seat and shoots Liv a pointed glance. "A gladiator in training? A friend of yours? He sure as hell isn't a client."

"Relax," Huck warns, nearly whispering. "That's Jake. That's someone like me. He's one of my guys, Harrison, and I suggest you save the questions because you're going to receive some answers you really won't like."

Olivia tries to meet Huck's gaze; however, he refuses to pay her any attention. He is angry. The off day didn't help one bit. She is forced to collect herself, assembling the files Jake has given them, placing the manilla envelope at the top of the pile. "Who he is does not matter. He won't hurt us. He...he's a friend." Huck's shoulders slump, just-noticeably. "We have our facts. Let's solve this mystery, as we always do. Now are we gladiators,-."

"Or are we bitches?" The edges of Harrison's lips upturn as he finishes it off.

"We're gladiators."

"No, you're bitches. And I'm your pimp!"

The light mood returns to the OPA headquarters.

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Olivia observes the envelope first, preparing to open it before she is pricked on the fingers and spins it around. Wincing and squeezing her fingers together, she reads a message written in what appears to be blood.

Do not open until absolutely necessary. You may not need it. Mayor Stewart will tell you otherwise. Find him first.

A/N: Did ya'll see Scandal last night? I almost SCREAMED! Jake! Jake! Huck! Jake! Fitz! Rowan! Jake! Olivia! Haha, got me in the mood to continue this.