Author's Notes: So...

Apologies for not posting last week. My sister and I are looking at new places to live and that occupied me last weekend. I am hoping to post two chapters if my Muse behaves.

When we last left our lovely duo, Fitz had pole-vaulted over That Line and kissed Olivia. Just going for the gold. Whoo-wee! When I planned out that chapter, it originally was supposed to end a little less suddenly so when this chapter starts, it all makes sense. Well, I wrote it and it came out all different. I couldn't decide how I wanted to handle things, but I think I've figured it out now. I am sorry if there's any confusion in advance. I am hoping I framed things in a way that makes it clear what happened.

There are a few seeds that I unintentionally planted in this chapter and I am deliberating on whether or not to let them blossom.

As to the question of smut/citrus/lemon...sorry folks. I have no finesse when it comes to sex scenes, I am way too subtle. I leave that to the experts, and there are some amazing writers of Olitz love scenes out there. But I am not a part of that esteemed club. :)

Disclaimer: Scandal and any related characters ain't mine. Any unrecognizable and/or cringe-worthy characters are mine.

Songs in this chapter: "For the Love of Money" by the O'Jays, "Set it Off" by Strafe, "Those Were the Days" by Aaliyah, "Never Say Goodbye" by the Jackson 5

Four

Several months later. New Year's Eve, 2014.

The halls of the law firm of Thomas, Beene, and Wolfe buzzed with anticipation that morning of the last day of the year. He could sense the vibration of too many curious brains squeezed into one place as he came off the elevator onto the thirtieth floor of the Johnson Continental Building.

He waved at the receptionist when he passed the front desk. She gave him an answering smile characteristic of a starstruck teen and he chuckled to himself. As Angelica Wolfe was a starstruck teen, he supposed she had the right to be a little dazzled by him. He strode toward his office, greeting co-workers as he passed. He could spy a speculating gleam in their eyes as they returned his greeting, but he shrugged it away and continued to his office.

As he rounded the corner and entered the suite of offices that was his home, a curly-haired brunette fell into step with him. Quinn Perkins held out a hand for his coat and he handed it over without argument. When they had first met each other's acquaintance, when she had been hired as a legal assistant nearly two years before, Quinn had been desperate to make a good impression on him. She had offered to hang his coat or get his coffee; some of the attorneys were comfortable in ordering the assistants around like servants, but Fitz was not one of them.

Two years later, Quinn Perkins had become invaluable to him, and thus appointed his paralegal. Their day began with ritual of him passing his coat to her in the winter months or her bringing a iced coffee or water in the summer months. This allowed them a chance to assess what the day held, head off disasters and handle their tasks in a productive manner. He owed a great deal of his success the past several months to Quinn and her efficiency.

"Good morning, Quinn," Fitz greeted her.

"Good morning, Fitz," Quinn returned. "We got a settlement offer on the Stewart case. I put the paperwork in your inbox to review."

"How does it look?"

Quinn chuckled. "Let's just say when I first laid eyes on it, I thought Brennan was smoking an illegal substance when he wrote it." Fitz let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head in disbelief. "I've put a meeting on the calendar for later this week so we can hash it out in person."

Fitz grinned at her as they reached his office. "Ms. Perkins, that's rather ruthless of you." He crossed the threshold with her behind, and she went to his small closet to hang his coat. "You know Brennan is going to crumble face-to-face and offer me more than they are willing to give."

"I learned from the best." She held out a hand to stop him before he lowered himself into his chair behind his desk. He frowned at her slightly and straightened. "Before you sit down, I need to tell you that Cyrus wanted to see you in Conference Room 2 as soon as you got here."

Fitz nodded thoughtfully, wondering what this meant. When Fitz started at the firm, Cyrus had taken him under his hypothetical wing. Of the three partners, Fitz had the closest relationship with him. So either Cyrus had something urgent he needed to discuss with him, or...

Fitz hazarded a look at Quinn, who appeared distinctly like an excited child in front of a dessert cart. "Now Quinn—"

"I don't want to jinx it, but the rumblings have been very loud the past few weeks. You can't tell me that the attorneys aren't talking about it because I overheard Chloe Estes bitching and she's pretty sure she's going to be passed over. Not that her being a non-factor is a surprise to anyone, really, but something is about to happen and everyone knows it."

Fitz rolled his eyes. Chloe Estes was a marginally decent attorney and had been working for the firm for nearly a decade, but the rumors persisted that she had only been brought in because her mother had guilt-tripped Irene. Fitz had always wondered what could have swayed the indomitable Irene Thomas but decided not to ask.

"No one knows what is going on," Fitz reminded her. "Anything you have heard at this point is merely speculation. The partners haven't confirmed or denied anything. For all we know, they could be redecorating."

"Mark my words, Fitz," Quinn remarked as he rounded the desk and walked toward the door. "This is more than us getting new chairs in the lobby."

"You wanna put a wager on it?"

Quinn's hazel eyes twinkled with the appeal of challenge. "You're on. $100 says you're wrong."

Fitz strode out of the office, grinning. "Prepare to be $100 poorer by the end of the day, Perkins."

"We'll see!"

Smile on his face, Fitz left the area and headed for the conference rooms. He stopped outside of Conference Room 2 noting that the door was closed. The blinds were opened a fraction, and he could see people moving around inside but could not identify who was inside the room.

"Grant."

The female voice made him turn. He discovered a tall, dark-skinned woman wearing a slim-cut black dress that stopped just above the knee under a black and royal blue jacket. Her three-inch heels were the same vibrant hue.

"Smith," he returned.

Rachel Smith paused beside him and looked him up and down. One of the senior associates, Rachel was a year younger than he was, but her brilliance and determination had put them on an even keel. Her dark eyes were filled with a bit of surprise when they met his. "You have a meeting too?"

Fitz began to feel the first tendrils of confusion clouding his brain. "Cyrus sent me the summons. You?"

"Irene sent me mine." In unison, they looked to the closed conference room door, wondering what was being deliberated behind the wood. Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Rachel turned back to him. "Do you think—?"

"Honestly, I don't know what to think," Fitz admitted.

Rachel pondered on this a long moment before giving a tiny nod and holding out a hand. "Well, if the rumors are true, let the best attorney win."

"Let the best attorney win," Fitz echoed, shaking her hand. The door opening had them both standing at attention. Seventeen-year-old Angela Wolfe, clad in a dark blue pantsuit that made her look older than her years, appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Grant, Ms. Smith—they'll see you now."

Fitz made a gesture for Rachel to go ahead of him. "Ladies first."

The right side of her mouth curved upward and she strode past him. They both thanked Angela as they passed her and entered the room.

With the city's skyline at her back, Irene Thomas-Wolfe sat in a chair facing the glass wall opposite the table, clad in a pewter skirt suit paired with a dark red blouse. Pouring a glass of water to her right, Cyrus Rutherford Beene appeared serene and calm, which was slightly out of the ordinary for him. To Irene's left sat David Wolfe, her husband and partner. The firm had seen little of Wolfe the past several months, and the three partners had been very secretive about what the reasoning was.

"Take a seat, please," Irene instructed, voice polite but devoid of any other inflection. Rachel and Fitz took the two seats on the opposite side, managing not to glance at once another. They schooled their features to blankness, willed their hands to be calm. Angela closed the blinds completely to give them privacy and then moved to stand unobtrusively by the door with her hands folded in front of her.

Irene waited a minute before speaking again. "Fitzgerald, Rachel, I am sure that you both have noticed some things beginning to shift within the firm." They both nodded faintly, not speaking. "We are quickly reaching the perilous juncture of a grand reveal in regards to something very momentous, and—"

"Perhaps, I need to jump in..." Irene slanted her husband an arch look and he trailed off. Cyrus broke his blank face for a nanosecond to look amused. Wolfe cleared his throat. "If I may, Counselor?"

Irene merely quirked her eyebrows. Based on the slightness of her reaction, everyone in the room knew Wolfe would be sleeping on the couch that night.

Shifting in his chair, Wolfe leaned forward. "To be blunt, I am running for Mayor. It is something that I have been wanting to do for many years, and waiting to do because I was concerned about leaving this firm behind, but after many serious discussions, I have decided I will enter the race. Because that will take my full attention, we have decided that it is time we offered the opportunity for partnership to associates within the firm."

"In other words, kids"—Cyrus paused for dramatic effect—"we are offering you both a full partnership within the firm and even more—"

"You get your name on the door," Irene added, finally smiling. "We hope that you both will accept."

Wolfe raised a hand before Fitz or Rachel could speak. "I need to say something here, something I need for both of you to understand. When Irene, Cyrus and I were deliberating about whom to elevate within the firm, no matter how many times we cut the deck, so to speak, your names entered the conversation. The two of you represent a new age for this firm. My lovely wife, as strong-willed as she is, Cyrus, who wouldn't know tranquil if it slapped him in the face, and I, the dinosaur fossil I am, will not be here forever."

He looked to Rachel. "Rachel, as you are a woman of color, I am extremely proud of what this represents, and allow me to be frank, we are all kicking ourselves for not doing this years ago. Know that the future intent of this firm is unequivocally to be inclusive, and I hope that you will help us accomplish that."

He then turned to Fitz. "Fitzgerald. You have one of the most elastic minds under this roof, and needless to say, watching you flourish from law student to attorney has truly been a pleasure, sir. I have no doubt whatsoever that you have the grace and aplomb to lead hand in hand with Rachel when the three of us are no longer here."

When silence descended, Fitz finally hazarded a glance at Rachel. She nodded faintly, her face schooled to thoughtful lines. As if she felt Fitz looking at her, she lifted her eyes and met his gaze. Possibilities blossomed in his brain, and he spied the synapses firing in hers.

They turned to the partners. "We accept," they said in unison.

Irene gestured to her daughter and Angela came forward with a file.

Several minutes later, when all of the paperwork was signed and discussed, Irene, Cyrus and Wolfe led them out to the lobby where Angelica had excitedly gathered the other members of the firm. Fitz noticed on the glass that there was a large piece of paper covering where the normal logo for the firm would have been. Irene stood beside it as her husband and Cyrus addressed them.

The news of the new partners and Wolfe running for Mayor was accepted with a great deal of excitement, though Fitz could sense Chloe Estes staring at him like a jilted vixen on Melrose Place. As if sensing that thought, Rachel glanced behind her, peering straight at the redhead for a beat. The nagging feeling eased. Rachel quirked an eyebrow at him. I got your back, partner.

He smiled a bit. Good to know.

When Irene peeled away the paper to reveal the new firm's new logo, Fitz felt an immeasurable amount of pride and accomplishment. Thomas, Beene, Wolfe, Grant & Smith.

Applause broke out in the lobby, and everyone went to congratulate the two new partners. He suddenly had the stray thought, amid the well wishes and celebratory comments, I can't wait to tell the news to—

"Olivia! Olivia, wait!"

The female voice echoing in the grand foyer made Olivia Pope pause over the huge lion, the Kaminari Academy mascot, and turn. A petite, curly-haired woman in a raspberry-hued peacoat and eggshell-colored scarf rushed toward her, purse slung over her shoulder. Olivia took in her flushed cheeks and shining green eyes and frowned, wondering what was going on.

It was New Year's Eve, and instead of enjoying her time away for Winter Break, Olivia had been summoned to the Academy for a meeting. She had been contacted earlier that morning via email by Lila Marcelino, the assistant to the founder of the school Mikage Tsukimori. Lila's missive had been clear about a single thing: Olivia needed to get to the school as soon as possible. She threw on her new double-breasted white coat over a sweater and jeans before hurriedly leaving her apartment.

"Isabelle?" Olivia's brow furrowed as she fell into step with her. "What are you doing here?"

"I got an email from Lila telling me to get down here like my life depended on it. I had to leave Sophie and Mark in the middle of a Harry Potter marathon and a whole pan of chocolate and caramel Rice Krispie treats."

Olivia nearly halted in mid-stride in dismay. Isabelle's chocolate and caramel Rice Krispie treats were legendary. Grudges were still in effect after one of the primary school teachers took the last one at 2013's faculty Christmas party. "You made a batch of the cocaine treats and didn't bring me any? I thought we were friends, Isabelle."

Isabelle chuckled. "If it's any consolation, Olivia, at this rate I won't get any either."

"Did someone say cocaine treats? Where are they? Can I have some?"

Olivia and Isabelle stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned toward the familiar voice. Mia Johnson hurried toward them in a teal military style coat and brown boots. She looked distinctly...displeased.

"What happened to you?" Olivia asked her cousin.

Mia groaned and when she caught up to them they began walking again with the cousins on either side of Isabelle. "Girl. That damn email. It came the worst time. Like the universe was conspiring against me."

"What were you doing?" Isabelle inquired.

Embarrassment crossed her features and she scratched the back of her neck. "Well, see what happened was…it wasn't so much what I was doing exactly but more...you know..."

Olivia and Isabelle realized it at the same instant. "Oh," they said in unison. Mia's cheeks flushed and no further elaboration was needed.

She had already decided to change the subject before she lost all face. "So…what do you think they called us here for?" Mia asked.

"I really hope they're not trying to cut costs again," Isabelle groaned. She had been with the Academy for nearly fifteen years and had seen a great deal of things.

"I haven't heard anything like that," Mia assured her. "I've got a friend in finance. Enrollment is up this year. In fact, I feel like they should be giving us raises."

"You also believe in unicorns, Mi," Olivia reminded her, smiling.

She gave a decisive nod. "Damn straight." The mirth fled her face when Lila Marcelino walked into the hallway a few doors away and gestured to them to come forward. "Well, here we go, ladies."

"Think happy thoughts," Isabelle instructed them in a calm reassuring voice. "Think lots of happy thoughts."

"You're such a Mama, Iz," Mia commented affectionately.

"If they fire us, happy thoughts are not going to pay my rent," Olivia said.

No one had a chance to comment because Marisol Sebastian, Isabelle's best friend and history teacher, came down the hall complaining in Spanish. The diminutive brunette came up on Olivia's side and tore her winter hat from her head.

"Dios Mio," Marisol muttered sourly. "You'd think they'd just wait until next week when we have to be back here anyways."

"But what would be the fun in that, Mari?" Isabelle joked, and they walked into the room Lila had disappeared into.

The secondary teachers' lounge was filled with people. Olivia noted that most of them were women, but there were a few males. She recognized teachers from all specialities, but it seemed a fraction of the actual staff. As a couple of them waved to her, she realized what had been so distinctive about this group: they were all on the committee pushing to create a women's studies program at the school.

At the head of the room, Lila Marcelino brandished a clipboard and fielded questions from perplexed teachers and administrative staff. She assured them briskly that all questions would be answered soon. Meanwhile, Mia stopped at the table which was laden with breakfast treats and juices and narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Hey Liv," she began, "these look like Abby's." She swiped up a bear claw and took a huge bite. "Tastes like 'em too!" she exclaimed, mouth full. She frowned again and swallowed. "Why are they busting out with the good shit? I see them. They're trying to ease the boot they're about to put in our ass with sugar!"

Lila looked over with a brow raised. Olivia grabbed some milk for them both and ushered Mia away before she could get them in trouble. "Girl if you don't calm down and stop trying to ruin your diet—" Mia lowered herself into a chair with a petulant pout and chewed with a mistrustful look in her eyes. Olivia sat beside her and took out her phone to text Abby. "Let me see if she knows anything."

"You know if she did, we'd both have about ten messages apiece by now."

Olivia did not respond to that. She went to her messenger app and tapped out a quick missive to Abby. It was New Year's Eve and the bakery at the Halliwell Hotel she managed was probably doing swift business, but if Abby had any viable information she would respond promptly. Did you have a huge order for Kaminari going out today?

Mia gulped milk. "What'd she say?"

Olivia's phone dinged and she read the message aloud. Um no was I supposed to? Had several offices ordering sweets but not ur school. Oh & there was one 4 some co called Death Bell Inc, a pretty huge one. Don't know, Liv. See ya tonight!

"Death Bell Inc?" Mia repeated. "Damn that sounds ominous."

She leaned over as Olivia brought her phone to her mouth and spoke in a soft tone. "Siri, what is Death Bell Incorporated?"

Searching, said the modulated voice. After a beat, the voice informed them, Here is what I found. Death Bell Incorporated is subsidiary of Arashi Corp and is owned by Kaneshi Tsukimori. Would you like to know the current net worth?

"Excuse me?" Mia blurted in shock, causing some heads to turn in her direction.

Would you like the information again? said the modulated voice.

Olivia turned off her phone and placed it in her purse before Mia could throw it across the room in annoyance. She was an ardent Android user—due in part to Sam's influence. "Well, that answers that question," Olivia said. "But then raises another. If that"—she gestured toward the table—"is the order Abby was referring to, then what does Mr. Tsukimori's son have to do with this?"

As if on cue, Kaneshi Tsukimori walked in, flanked by his father, stepmother Suzume Arashi, and a smartly dressed middle-aged woman Olivia had never seen before.

Kaneshi Tsukimori was the estranged oldest child and only son of the school's founder. His relationship with Mikage had deteriorated when his younger sister Sakura had died of leukemia several years before. During her tenure at Kaminari Academy, Olivia had never seen Kaneshi near his father in person, only in old photos before Sakura's end. Polished as usual in a plum-hued sweater and dark slacks, he stopped behind his suit-clad father with a neutral expression and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Mmm…hello..." Mia said under her breath.

"Mi, seriously," Olivia scolded her in a hushed tone. "You have a boyfriend."

Mia lifted a shoulder. "Doesn't mean I can't look every now and again." She trailed Kaneshi's movement with her eyes and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But you know he never comes out unless something is about to go all the way down. So either something really fucked up is about to occur…or this is going to be like winning the Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes."

"Did anyone ever win those?"

Mia made a face. "Probably not. Bad comparison I guess."

Mikage cleared his throat gently and all conversations stopped. He waited a few moments to ensure he had everyone's attention. "Ohayou gozaimasu," he greeted the room.

"Ohayou gozaimasu," the room echoed in return.

"I would like to thank you all for coming on such short notice. We will keep this fairly short so you can return to your families and enjoy the remainder of your winter break." He nodded to his wife who nodded at him and stepped forward.

Suzume Arashi was a permanent fixture at the school and one Olivia had relied upon throughout the long arduous process. Less mysterious than her husband and stepson, Suzume involved herself with the day-to-day functioning of the school, ensuring the best environment for her students and staff. When Olivia had approached her on that emotional day three years ago when her crusade had begun to include more women-centered courses and materials, Suzume had listened patiently, much in the way a mother world, then offered Olivia her own perspective. Getting to that place will not be easy, she had told Olivia. They started with a women's studies course for secondary students, then some activities during March, Women's History Month, in which both primary and secondary students could engage.

A good start, but Olivia wanted more. One of the cornerstones of Kaminari Academy was the comprehensive view of the world it offered its students. And as she had talked to her fellow teachers, she found she was not the only one who felt the lack of women in certain subjects.

Olivia's heart beat faster as Suzume's gaze swept the room. For a moment she stopped on Olivia, and Olivia found herself holding her breath.

"There has been a change coming on for quite some time," Suzume began. "As you all well know, Kaminari Academy prides itself on offering its students the best education the world has to offer. However, it has come to my attention that there are something lacking within the focus of this school. To be frank, our world is changing, but it still has more room in which to grow. Women often didn't warrant a footnote in history textbooks, had to assume male pseudonyms in order to have their works published or dress as men to participate in fields they were left out of. This lack is appalling. We hold a responsibility to our children to offer them the full perspective, of both male and female experiences.

"Sadly, undertaking such a feat is not simple, nor is it inexpensive. Most of this uphill battle has not been the resistance of the students but the lack of funding for such a project." She turned her head slowly toward her stepson. Olivia and Mia shared a dumbfounded glance when Kaneshi smiled sheepishly. "Last week, I had a conversation with my stepson that culminated into this meeting today. And within that exchange, he offered me a solution to our grand problem."

She took a breath, not able to suppress the excitement on her face. "So I am excited to announce, beginning in the 2015-2016 school year, we will not only be including a women's studies curriculum for the primary students, but we will be also expanding the women's studies course for secondary students into a multi-discipline program. We will appoint members to our brand new women's studies department by the end of the current school year to assess and determine coursework and proper materials."

The room erupted into gasps of happiness and shocked laughter. Mikage observed the people in his midst with a faint amusement, much as a father would watch a pack of exuberant daughters and sons. Suzume declared, Let's celebrate! and the room broke out into excited movement.

"We did it," Olivia said aloud in awe. "We actually did it..."

"We did!" Mia confirmed. She began to jump up and down in her knee-high boots. "We totally did." She grabbed Olivia for a tight hug. "Maybe we didn't leap a tall building in a single bound, but we're about to change the way our students see the world." She pulled back, teary-eyed. Seeing the moisture in her cousin's eyes made Olivia slightly weepy herself. "Liv, I couldn't be more proud of you right now. You..."

"I didn't do this alone," Olivia reminded her firmly. "Don't forget. Look around you. Everyone had a hand in this, not just me."

"But if you hadn't lost your shit that one day and went storming into Suzume's office—"

"Hey I did not lose my shit, Mia! I was a little upset. You make it sound like it was a temper tantrum."

Mia rolled her eyes and laughed. Marisol and Isabelle strode up to them, celebratory orange juice in their grasp. They clicked cups and toasted the moment. Olivia tossed back the golden liquid and went for her phone. She was already composing the group message in her head. She opened up her messenger app again and went through her contacts to choose who received the message.

She chose all of her family contacts, and was going through her friends when a name—a single name—gave her pause.

Fitzgerald Grant III.

Realization hit her like a lightning bolt, stopping her cold.

Someone had opened a bottle of champagne, and even though it was barely nine-thirty, small plastic cups were passed around. The festive mood grew and laughter spread. Rachel had hooked arms with him and carried on a conversation with Evan Brooks and Natasha Howard with little participation from Fitz.

As the tiny bubbles exploded on his tongue, Fitz found that the liquid tasted sour, tainted. He swallowed with a great effort and mustered up a smile when Cyrus came onto the scene and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He had discarded the veneer of calm he had worn at the meeting and seemed his normal, jocular self.

This moment, as significant as it was, seemed surreal, like it were happening to someone else. He felt like a spectator, detached and adrift. Like a King, staring over his dominion but feeling that something—someone—was missing.

He hated to admit it, but someone was missing.

It had been months since he had thought of her. He had just surmounted that habit of trying to psych himself up to dial her number or type in her email address, eventually kicking himself and talking himself out of it, and now she invaded his senses, usurping his triumph and turning his insides into twisty, queasy mass.

And even worse, he mused as Irene hugged him, she probably never thought of him.

Olivia felt her cousin's cheek on hers for a fleeting moment before she pulled away to twirl Isabelle in a jubilant circle. She suddenly felt like she were suddenly in a vacuum. The sounds were tinny and far-away as his voice inside of her head came, unbidden.

You're a coward.

No, she thought sadly, relieving for the hundredth time that moment and wishing she could go back and do it differently. I'm not. See? See, I got what I fought for.

I wish I could show you.

Mia suddenly squinted at her with the worried, watchful eyes of someone concerned, and she must have seen something in her cousin's face because her own expression changed. Realization came first, and then sorrow. All of those evasions, all of those odd, awkwards moments, the strange dearth of him in Olivia's vernacular began to make sense.

Somehow in this moment, it began to make sense. Mia couldn't explain why, but it did.

Mia brought Olivia into a tight, comforting hug, a strange, discordant tableau in the middle of the merry group, as she played that scene in her head, the last time Olivia Pope had seen Fitzgerald Grant.

Several months previous.

For a moment, Olivia was stunned and immobile. The sensation of Fitz's lips crushed upon hers seemed foreign, wrong. Then her rational mind floated away and left her with the sensations as the kiss deepened.

She had been kissed before. The act in itself was not a revelation. The feel of Fitz's body, with its firmness, its warmth, was a pleasant surprise, bring with it twin sensations of security and excitement. His hand loosened at the nape of her neck and his fingers brushed the skin there, sending chills skittering down her spine. She was hyperaware of his other hand trailing down her shoulder and then her arm. Her nerves sparked in its wake. He parted her lips with his tongue, and when it slid against hers, something about the contact jolted her from the intimate cocoon of the moment.

She pushed him away and sucked breaths in and out to ease the lightness of her head. Her mind raced with the understanding of what just happened between the two of them. Mortification and dread twisted in her gut.

"Fitz," she managed, eyes luminous.

Fitz raised his eyes from the carpet to her glimmering eyes. "Olivia, please let me explain—"

She turned away from him, shaking her head. "No. It was a mistake. We'll just pretend it never happened." She picked up her wine glass and walked toward the kitchen. "We both had too much to drink, got carried away by seeing each other again after long." She reentered the living room, forced herself to stare at him. "Fitz, we can't. What happened just now… We have to forget it."

"Forget it?" The open hope and vulnerability on Fitz's face transformed, turning his face into a mask of anger and hurt. "Do you think that what just happened means nothing to me?" He came toward her but was careful not to get too close. Olivia reminded him of a skitterish animal. If he got too close too quickly, she would run away.

Her lips parted and her mouth trembled as she took a step back, intimidated by the fervor pumping off of him. She peered into his eyes, currently a morose and stormy slate-blue. The emotion in them seemed more frightening than if he had felt nothing when they kissed. It meant...it meant there existed a chance that this whole time, he had harbored feelings for her.

And even more, she possibly may have carried around some for him.

"We're friends, Fitz," Olivia reminded him in a low tone. "We can't be anything more."

"You can't tell me you felt nothing just then, Olivia. You can't tell me that. I don't believe it. You wouldn't look so damn afraid if it meant nothing." He moved forward, she back. "You don't want to even try? To figure it out."

Tears sprang in her eyes. "No, Fitz! I don't. I don't want to try." Breathing labored, she turned and went into the kitchen. She needed that wine after all.

He found her gulping down the crimson contents of the glass she had poured herself earlier as if it would soothe her racing heart and parched throat. She set the glass down with a clank and gripped the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles nearly split her skin. He watched her, and sorrow and bitterness overtook him.

"You're a coward, Olivia."

She froze, her spine stiffening. Her head shifted slowly in his direction, and it was her turn to look wounded. "I...am not...a coward," she ground out. "You were rash and we got caught up in a moment. That was all that was. It needs to be forgotten."

Allowing him no moment to argue, she pushed away from the sink and exited the kitchen and headed toward down the hall. He stood where the carpet met the hardwood and tried to slow his rapidly beating, slowly fracturing heart. He heard a door open and then close. He spied Olivia nearing with a pillow and blankets. He shook his head and stalked back into the living room as Olivia deposited the contents onto the arm of the couch. Without stopping, he went for his open suitcase, threw the clothes he had worn during the flight inside and gave the zipper a vigorous tug.

Her voice came out strangled. "Where are you going?"

"I...I can't stay here," Fitz said, mouth set in a line. He wouldn't even say her name. "I'll just get a room somewhere."

Something leapt into her eyes then. A part of her realized that if she let him walk over her threshold that she may never see him again, may never mend this. "You can't just leave." He ignored her and placed the suitcase on its wheels so he could extend the handle. "Don't walk away from me, Fitzgerald."

He met her anguish with defiance. She should have known better than try to order him around. She had listened to him for far too long to forget that was ill-advised and never ended well. This would be a case in point, for years to come.

"Watch me," Fitz snapped. He opened her door and stalked out of it, slamming it behind him without a backwards glance.

The sound of the door abruptly meeting the frame made her jump. But it was the silence that fractured her. The moments ticked by, and eventually it became clear he was not going to return. The sound of her shuddering breaths amid the emptiness usurped the rigidity from her limbs and she found herself buckling under the weight of the implication of what had just occurred. The sobs clawed their way out of her, ravaging her insides with the force. She buried her face in the pillow she'd intended for his use and allowed herself to mourn.