I own nothing. I don't own Scandal. I don't own the characters.

Chapter 2 The Things You Learn

"Ladies and gentlemen, Fitzgerald Grant decided to grace us with his presence. I'm so glad that your "hang up" didn't accompany you to the office this morning," Cy announced to no one in particular as Fitz stepped off the elevator. Fitz sighed when he realized that Cyrus had clearly been standing guard at the elevators waiting for him to arrive.

"Give me a break, Cy. Every reporter in New York City was outside my apartment this morning," Fitz shot back as he stepped into the reception area.

"I'm sure they were just interested in how many cups of coffee you enjoyed last night," Cy remarked without missing a beat.

Realizing for the first time that they were not alone, they both glanced toward Alyssa, the receptionist who was perched behind her oversized desk.

"Good morning Mr. Grant. Good Morning Mr. Beene," she said trying to make the atmosphere less awkward.

"Morning Alyssa" Fitz responded as he breezed past her on his way to his office

"Good morning Alyssa. Thanks for recommending that website," Cyrus said as he followed Fitz, causing Alyssa to stare down awkwardly at her desk.

"I'd love to discuss what an enlightening morning I had on a site called Urban Dictionary. Not being bi-lingual in whore-speak myself, Alyssa recommended the site to help me translate the list," Cyrus said trailing right behind Fitz.

Fitz, not taking Cyrus' bait, continued walking briskly through the long hallway toward his office in an attempt to shake Cyrus. Even in his 60's, Cyrus would not allow Fitz to get away that easily, and increased his pace to the point of a light jog.

"Jesus Cyrus, it's 9:15. Can you give me a God damn break? I fucked up, I get it."

"A break" Cyrus sneered. "I haven't slept in 72 hours and you want a break? Obviously, I need to be more sensitive to your needs. Being the playboy of the east coast and single-handedly bringing down a business must be exhausting. What can i do to help you relax? Do you want me to run and get you a fruity drink with a little umbrella in it? Maybe I could call in a girl to give you a massage. I realize that you're use to the massages that include happy endings, but under the circumstances." Cyrus trailed off. "What the hell! Let's sign you up for the happy ending. It may be an extra thousand, but if it helps you to relax." he practically shouted his face getting redder with each spoken word.

Fitz was getting annoyed. His own face began to redden and his fists began to clench. "Say what you came in here to say Cyrus, then get the hell out. I created this company. I built this company. In case you have forgotten, I am the President and CEO. Last time I checked, your were the Chief Operations Officer and report directly to me.

"You created nothing Fitz. You came up with the idea of this company while you were fall down drunk at Harvard frat party. If Mellie didn't tell you about your idea the morning after, it would have been down the drain with your vomit."

Cyrus had a point. His company started as a joke, as a way of getting Mellie to leave him the hell alone.

Mellie had been chasing Fitz around Harvard like a lost puppy. Their parents had been friends for as long as either had been able to remember and Fitz always assumed that their parents had decided that Mellie and Fitz were betrothed while both were still in utero. Their parents may have had a plan, but there was no way in hell that Fitz would be allowing anyone to plan his life. He remembers the night that he had finally had enough – the night he created his company. He's able to remember being buzzed out of his mind when Mellie tried to corner him for at least the 10th time that day. Gone were the days of Mel trying to snag her man with confidence and poise. More recently, she had resorted begging and guilt.

"I've always assumed that we'd be together Fitzy" she whined. "There isn't anyone at this stupid school who even interests me besides you."

"Try a dating website Mel," he slurred. "Plenty of catches on those" he said chugging tequila straight from the bottle.

"Fitzgerald, do you want me to end up hacked up in some man's basement?"

Even in his inebriated state, it didn't seem like the worst thing in the world – being hacked up in some guys basement meant that she would definitely leave him alone.

"I'm going to make millions by starting a dating site where you need those things...you know...to make sure you aren't a body hacking freak before you can become a member," Fitz said in a haze of tequila .

"A background check?" Mellie questioned.

"Yep, a background check. Tomorrow, you can get laid without any fear of being hacked apart," was the last thing he said before he grabbed a random blonde and shoved his tongue into her mouth.

He didn't really create anything. If Cyrus had not overheard Fitz and Mellie talking in his Micro Economic Theory class, Fitz would've never followed through. Mellie would probably still be stalking him, and he would have some pencil pushing job at Price Waterhouse.

Fitz began to feel a pang of guilt. Cyrus was being an asshole - but that was just Cy.

"This is going to blow over Cy. It isn't going to bring down the entire company" Fitz said calmly.

"Our IPO is launching on the New York Stock Exchange in less than a year, Fitz. The world is waiting for our stock to go public! When the stock goes public, investors are speculating that the price will go through the roof, along with our net worth. They are saying you are going to beat Zuckerberg and become the 25th richest man in the country." Cyrus said exacerbated. "People don't want to ask for relationship help from a guy who needs to pay for sex."

"Well, essentially" Fitz began.

"Don't complete that thought out loud Fitz" Cyrus warned. "And don't even get me started on what this will do to your political aspirations."

"Alright Cy, obviously you think we need to do something here and I'm sure that you already have a plan. Lay it out already so I can go get a coffee."

"We need a fixer, a public relations guru. We need Olivia Pope" Cy announced.

"Who the hell is Olivia Pope? Fitz inquired.

"She's the wife of Senator Davis. I know you don't think much of him, but she's a pit bull. She is the best fixer/public relations guru/ image consultant this country has ever seen."

"If she's so great, why doesn't she have a job?

"She just flew home last night after working on Reston's campaign in California. I booked a 1 o'clock flight out of JFK to Dulles. I'm going to snatch her up before she signs with someone else." Cyrus stated matter of factly.

"And why would she come to work for us so soon after Reston's campaign?"

"Because she would do anything for her dear old friend. She was my star student at Harvard."

Fitz appeared to be considering Cyrus' proposal. "

"She isn't like the other gals you have working around here – she's a pitbull, not a prom queen," Cyrus warned.

"Alright Cy. I met her a few months ago at the Peninsula with Edison. She seemed more prom queen than pit bull, but if you think she's what we need, then we'll go with her."

Satisfied, Cyrus turned to leave.

"Cyrus" Fitz called. "Why are you flying all the way to D.C. To offer her the job? Can't you just do that over the phone?"

"She's been inviting me down to see their new house for ages. It's a kill two birds with one stone kind of thing," Cy said over his shoulder as he walked toward his office.

Cyrus figured that it was true enough. He had just spoken with Olivia last night. She had told him that she was taking a some time off from work. She wanted to support Edison's political career and start a family. Olivia might require some slight encouragement to take on their case, the type of encouragement that only Cy was able to give.

Cyrus grabbed the manilla folder from his desk and his over night bag from the floor. He had a feeling that this would be a very productive trip to D.C.