So after many weeks of deliberation, I've decided to turn this one-shot into a full story. Scandal is after all, gone until September, so we all need something to keep us going. Because this takes place during the campaign trail, I struggled with keeping Defiance vs. not keeping Defiance. That storyline is so married to the actual show, that it would be hard to work around and without it, considering all of its related story lines. But I decided, in the end, to keep it in and move through their campaign trail beyond what the show has shown us. I will expand upon some scenes of the campaign that we got to see, while also going beyond them and writing out how I imagine the ones we didn't get to see. I hope I didn't keep you guys waiting too long and that you're all still interested. This story picks up again two months later, so enjoy! :D

The heat of the room, locked in by the fastened door and closed windows, had finally gotten to them. Fitz lay quietly, gently resting his weight on Olivia. He breathed steadily and deeply with his face buried into the crevice between her arm and ribcage. After a moment, Fitz pushed himself off of her and stood between her thighs. Olivia lay motionless on her back. She stared up at the ceiling fan, intensely aware of the rub of his denim against the inside of her knees and the damp slickness from his chest on her own naked stomach. It felt strangely like something misplaced; she had gotten so used to the pressure of Fitz's body weighing down on top of her skin that lying there on her own felt odd and awkward. Olivia took a deep breath, sat up on the edge of the desk and picked up her bra by the computer keyboard. She hooked it behind her back absentmindedly and then reached for her shirt, which was lying on the floor near the wheels of the desk chair.

"Hey," Fitz said quietly.

Olivia pushed her bangs out of her eyes and looked up at him, "What?"

Her insides did quadruple backflips. She felt incredibly nervous and she didn't know why. Maybe it was because she – they – had slipped back into…whatever relationship the two of them had. Or maybe it was because she was sitting at the edge of a desk in the middle of the campaign headquarters for a presidential candidate, pants-less, shirtless, and up until only recently, braless. Fitz watched her wordlessly while he buttoned and buckled his pants. Then he smiled a lazy, effortless smile – one that only decided to show up on one half of his mouth.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked her finally.

"Nothing," Olivia answered immediately.

That was entirely false. She was thinking of his fingers unhooking her bra…the hiss and moan of his breath in her ear…the yearning push of her tongue past his lips…. She looked down at her watch – 1:10AM. They had been in the office for a little over an hour – an hour of frenzied and hungry touching and grasping and kissing and undressing. Fitz reached out and took her shirt out of her hands.

"What's wrong? Are you already ready to leave me?" He was still grinning.

He opened up the collar of her shirt so that it slipped quickly and comfortably over her head.

"We have a plane to catch at six," Olivia remarked warningly, shoving her arms through her blouse.

She hopped off the edge of the desk and pulled on her pants. Without asking, Fitz zipped and buttoned them for her. She watched his fingers fly quickly and lightly over the crotch of her linen, and although it didn't take any more than five seconds, it was enough to provoke a carnal yen up and down the length of her body. Olivia bit at the corner of her lip and slipped her hands under his arms and inside the back pockets of his jeans, pressing her face into his shoulder. She didn't want to leave.

"And? What does that mean? You want to go again?" Fitz asked teasingly. His voice was low and flirtatiously nonchalant.

Olivia smiled into his shoulder. "And then what will our excuse be when we miss the plane?" she asked.

Fitz put his hands on her shoulders and leaned back to face her. He cocked his head to the side and grinned salaciously, "So you expect us to take the whole five hours? Hmm, I like the way you're thinking."

Olivia laughed out loud. Fitz squeezed her shoulders playfully and kept his eyes on her. The two of them stood like that for a minute, studying each other's faces in silence. Olivia's eyes skimmed over his Adam's apple and up to his mouth. She noticed he was no longer grinning.

"Olivia," Fitz began.

"Yes?"

"I love you. And I know this isn't easy for us, but I'm sure that's something that will never go away."

Olivia didn't say anything back. The moment was too fragile to break. Instead, she leaned forward into his arms and let out a deep breath, letting her body mold back into his. But she realized that she perhaps was nervous because she was starting to feel the same way….

x X x

Two Months Later – Tuesday, May 27 2010: Des Moines, Iowa

There was a light and rapid knock on the other side of the wooden door. A second later, Jeanine poked her head inside

"Mr. Beene. He's here," she said.

"Send him in please Jeanine," Cyrus beckoned with a wave of his hand.

Cyrus and Olivia were sitting at a long wooden table in the Davenport meeting room of the Des Moines Marriott Downtown. The campaign had taken up temporary residence in Iowa on its journey towards the west coast. Three days ago, eager oil tycoon Hollis Doyle had called numerous times asking for a sit-down, in-person meeting. Olivia had finally arranged for one, and he had enthusiastically agreed to fly in from Texas to meet her in Iowa. The door to the meeting room opened again and this time, a man – short with thinning blond hair, and a boyish grin on his face – walked into the room outfitted in a dark blue suit and a thin brown briefcase tucked smartly under his arm.

"Good afternoon, ya'll. Good afternoon," Hollis greeted them jovially.

Cyrus stood up and Olivia followed suit.

"Hollis M. Doyle," Hollis stuck out his hand to Cyrus.

"Cyrus Beene, campaign manager," Cyrus shook Hollis's hand. "And this is –,"

"Olivia Pope, Communications Director," Olivia introduced herself.

"Well, have a seat then Mr. Doyle," Cyrus said.

"Please," Hollis laughed and held up a hand, "call me Hollis. So then, you must be the Olivia I had the pleasure of speaking with a week ago?"

The same Southern twang she had heard on the phone was there; it coated every word that fell out of Hollis's mouth. Olivia shook his hand.

"The very same."

"Wonderful," Hollis clapped his hands together, "Well good, good, we're all here. I have been as busy as a stump-tailed cow in fly time and I haven't been to Boston in seven years if you can believe it, so I had to stop by and fix my hankerin' for a New England clam chowder. Hit the spot, hit the damn spot," Hollis patted his stomach appreciatively.

He seated himself across from Cyrus and looked at them both expectantly, "So enough about my satiated gut. Let's talk business."

"You currently reside in Texas?" Olivia asked, looking at the notes she had printed on Hollis.

"Born and raised - where everything is bigger, and the bigger the better," Hollis confirmed with a proud grin.

"And you own Doyle Energy…" Olivia went on.

"That I do," Hollis nodded. "Eleven years this past Wednesday.

"So what can we do for you Hollis?" she asked him matter-of-factly.

"Well, it's not what you can do for me but what I can do for you. For the Grant campaign that is. Speaking of, where is he? The big man? Fitzgerald Grant the third?" Hollis asked, looking around as though expecting Fitz to pop out from underneath the desk.

"He's in Utah," Olivia answered automatically.

"Visiting charter schools and small businesses. He'll be back Thursday," Cyrus finished for her.

"Hm, well that is a damn shame because I was really looking forward to meeting him today," Hollis muttered; his forehead was crowded with lines of disappointment.

Olivia looked down at the grains of the wood and drifted out of the conversation…. Fitz had left early Sunday morning for Salt Lake City. She had been up late packing for Iowa when he showed up to her hotel room door. They talked for a while – it had seemed too short – and then he left to catch a private plane. A long and loud throat clearing from across the table broke Olivia out of her thoughts. She looked up and Hollis was deep in conversation with Cyrus.

"…been a Grant fan for six years, ever since he was governor of California. I'm as loyal as they come, so you don't have to worry about that. And I knew there was no way in hell Senator Sally Langston was going to get any further. I'll be the first one to say it - that entire campaign didn't know whether to check their ass or scratch their watch" Hollis laughed genially. "But I digress. All I'm saying is, I'm here to offer my support."

"Great," Cyrus nodded, "and how do you want to do that?"

"Well. Simply put, I'd like to help finance it," Hollis shrugged.

"Even greater!" Cyrus grinned. He grabbed a nearby pen and pressed its ballpoint tip to the face of his legal pad, "and how much did you want to contribute?"

"Five hundred. And fifty-five. Thousand dollars," Hollis proclaimed. He emphasized each word with raised eyebrows and a pointed finger.

Olivia turned to look at Cyrus, who stared back at Hollis – dumbfounded, pen poised in midair.

"That's a very generous offer Mr. Doyle but the –,"

"Ah ah," Hollis smirked and held up his hand again.

Olivia smiled graciously and leaned forward, "But the individual limit for a presidential campaign contribution in a general election is still two thousand six hundred. We run a clean campaign and we'd like to keep it that way."

"Exceptionally clean," Cyrus verified. "Fitzgerald Grant may as well be bald and have a picture of himself on a bottle of cleaning fluid."

"I know, I know. I've read all about FEC and PAC and XYZ – but…my thing is, I'd like to see Fitzgerald Grant win. And if anyone wants a good campaign, there's no 'if', 'ands', or 'buts' about it – they're gonna need money. And if I can help with that, then why not? And besides, it's not just me."

Hollis reached under the lapel of his dark blue jacket and from the inside breast pocket, pulled out three folded pieces of tawny-colored business paper. He unfolded them each carefully and straightened them out face-up on the dark mahogany.

"Six hundred and ninety-eight signatures of donor donations – the highest one coming from myself of course," he chuckled good-naturedly. "But there you go – six hundred and ninety-eight Doyle Energy executive members, branch and outsourced employees, families of employees, friends of employees, et cetera, et cetera. Here, have a look see."

He pushed the sheets of paper across the table towards Olivia and Cyrus.

Olivia stared at the long list of tiny printed electronic signatures. "Still…five hundred thousand is a lot," she remarked thoughtfully, "why is Doyle Energy so interested in the campaign now? Fitz formally announced his candidacy a year ago in March."

Hollis eyed Olivia curiously for a moment and then grinned, "You ask good questions Olivia. I like that. You remind me of Carlota, my second ex-wife. But, like I said – I've always been a Grant fan ever since he signed AB 2953 in California. It certainly made purchasing my Foster City home a little easier."

Hollis shifted his glance back and forth between the two of them. Then, as though sensing that they weren't convinced, he leaned forward and clasped his hands together seriously.

"Look, I've got two weekend custodian's signatures shy of seven hundred people donating what must be a Georgetown condo to this campaign. And every last one of them is more spotless than the toe of my boot. Don't look at these signatures as money…look at them as television ads, a website revamp, leather couches for headquarters."

Olivia looked over at Cyrus again, who was biting at his fingernails. Hollis cleared his throat.

"So what do you ya'll cats think?" He prompted, trying not to sound impatient.

Cyrus looked over at Olivia, who didn't say anything back. Hollis seemed unusually determined to donate and she wasn't entirely sold, but as campaign manager, Cyrus had the final decision. Cyrus rolled his eyes to the ceiling, let out a long and deep breath and then swiveled around in his chair.

"Jeanine!" he yelled, "Come in here for a minute."

He turned back to Hollis and collected the three sheets of paper, "I'll take these. We're going to have to look it over with our fundraising department, and cross-reference the names, but I think it will work."

"Excellent. Just brilliant," Hollis beamed, rubbing his hands together, "So which book of checks should I use? Puppies or sailboats?"

x X x

Later that night, Olivia sat at the top of her hotel bed, dressed in a complimentary linen robe, with a bag of vending machine trail mix and a draft of Thursday's address in Nebraska on her lap. The clock had only struck eleven at night three minutes ago, but she was exhausted. The past two months on the campaign trail had been almost unfathomably intense. Exactly a month and a week ago, Fitz had been formally announced as Republican presidential nominee and with that, everything had changed. Sally Langston was now firmly tucked under the Grant campaign wing, Governor Samuel Reston from Maryland was the new opponent, and the campaign traveled the nation back and forth and up and down as different states became more and more significant. And now, every minute was spent preparing for the only thing that mattered: November. It was an exhausting and demanding change that required much more for everyone involved. Sleep was an alien concept to Olivia, and coffee was always the meal of choice.

And then there was Fitz. Since the night in the Oregon headquarters office two months ago, things had been different. Neither she nor Fitz had changed anything about their behavior towards each other in front of everyone else. But when they were alone – which were scarce and fleeting moments grabbed up at random – they couldn't stay away from, nor off of, each other: they found each other in hallways, they lingered at the end of conferences, and they seated themselves on the campaign and buses and planes earlier than everyone else. The secrecy of it all hadn't changed, but it had somehow faded to the back. It was a negligible afterthought; an intrusive element in their relationship best worked around but ultimately, unacknowledged. It seemed slightly bittersweet, but Olivia had slipped so deep underneath the two of them that it seemed unreal. It was good enough that she could put aside who he was and where they were. To her, when she was with him – she was with him; he wasn't a candidate, he wasn't married, he was just there, and she was happy. He was unequivocally kind and good and optimistic in a world where the world-weary and cynical seemed a population large enough to wrap the Earth a dozen times over. And yet, there was a quality of hesitation; a falter and uncertainty that marked his step every so often – it was something Olivia couldn't quite figure out yet.

A loud vibration to her left made Olivia jump. Her cell phone was buzzing precariously close to the edge of her nightstand.

"Hello?" Olivia answered.

"They're legit," Cyrus's voice came through from the other end.

"What's legit?" Olivia asked, capping her pen.

"The Doyle Energy donation. Every last signature. From Hollis himself down to a Bryan and Theresa Erickson."

"Wow," Olivia switched the phone to her other ear and got up out of bed. "So that's a good five hundred and fifty-five thousand into the campaign."

"How many television advertisements is that?"

"Television advertising can take up a good four-hundred million," Olivia laughed.

"Oh," Cyrus hesitated.

"That's why we like online platforms better – they're cheaper."

A loud knock sounded on the door. Olivia turned around to check the hotel alarm clock – 11:14PM. She tightened the belt on her robe, crossed the room, and looked through the peephole. The view was characteristically distorted, but she could see just fine: Fitz was standing outside. Olivia's heart lurched forward.

"Cyrus, I need to hang up now," she said quickly.

"Nine o' clock tomorrow morning. Same room!" Cyrus yelled.

Olivia hung up on the phone and took a deep breath. She gnawed at her lips in an attempt to bite back a smile, and then she opened the door. Before her, Fitz stood on the threshold.

"Hi," he said, with a lazy grin.

"Hi," she whispered back.

So…what'd you guys think? We've met Hollis and there's lots more to come (obviously, haha). Even though we do know what happens and it's not much of a surprise, it's nice to be able to write in between the show and play out my imagination. There are so many scenes that I have would loved to have been longer! I recommend watching YouTube clips (or entire episodes!) of all the flashbacks (1x06, 2x08, 2x11) since I gather a lot of information and sequencing from them. Also, those episodes are just pretty freakin' great and it can help you get a better sense of this story and what happened in the show before or after a particular chapter of mine. So, let me know what you guys are thinking. Until next time :)