CHAPTER REVISED/UPDATED on JAN. 20. (End of chapter added.)

Hi! I've added an ending to this chapter, Chap 7, instead of creating a brand new (mini) chapter 8, since I know how much you guys hate short chapters. :) Thanks for reading and for leaving all the fab reviews! - Neo

Original A/N: The reviews and comments you all have been leaving for this story have been incredible! Thanks so much! So happy you're enjoying this alternate universe version of Fitz and Olivia.

In this chapter, the mystery surrounding Fitz deepens as we learn a bit more about his past, specifically about Zachariah Goodwin, the prisoner who appeared in this story's prologue. Please read the prologue, if you haven't already, to get some more context. After you read this chapter, what do you think Zachariah's connection is to the Mellie suicide mystery? Post your theories, guesses and wild speculations in a review. Thanks!


Chapter 7: A Friend in Need

After Olivia left, Fitz remained downstairs in the library thinking. Lost in his thoughts, he wasn't sure how much time had passed before he realized that it was raining heavily outside. He got up from the overstuffed armchair and went to go lie down on the sofa. He was alone in the dark with only the light from the fire in the fireplace to dimly illuminate the room. He draped an arm over his face to block out even that little bit of light. He had hoped a few glasses of Scotch would deaden the pain he was feeling in his emotional heart, but it had made no difference. The dull ache was still there and he knew he was going to pay for drinking in excess with a wicked hangover in the morning.

Accompanied by the sound of the wind and pounding rain that lashed at the window pane, Fitz's mind went back over the day he had had. He recalled how he had shut down the interview when the topic had shifted over to Zeke. He knew it must have seemed strange to Olivia that he had been willing to talk about his brother's unfortunate death but unwilling to talk about Zeke, his childhood friend.

As Fitz continued to think about the day's earlier conversation, his mind drifted back to the past, all the way back to the summer of '74 when he and Zeke met for the first time.


Flashback to August 1974

Fitz was bicycling home from his tennis lesson at the country club when something caught his eye. He skidded to a stop in front of Lou's Diner, a greasy spoon eatery popular with both locals and people just passing through town. Parked near the diner's main entrance was a bright, shiny red 1972 Dodge Charger. Fitz had read about the car in magazines but never actually seen one in real life. The vehicle, a real muscle car, flashed like a beacon in an ocean of bland sameness of station wagons and suburban sedans. Fitz quickly walked over to the car to get a closer look. Just as he was about to touch it, he heard someone yell: "Hey, you! Step away from the car!"

Fitz looked up. Running down the front steps of the diner was a young man.

"This car yours?" Fitz asked skeptically. As the young man came closer and came to stand in front of him, it was clear he was a teenager, just like himself. He couldn't have been more than 16, 17 years old, tops.

"What's it to you, rich kid?" the other teen said mockingly.

"What do you mean, rich kid?" Fitz asked shocked. "You know who I am?"

"Of course, I do. Doesn't everyone in this town know who young Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III is?" the teen said, his voice dripping with disdain and sarcasm. "You're like the Boy Prince of Santa Barbara."

"Hey, look, I don't know who you are or what you may have heard about me, but I'm no prince," Fitz said, stung by the accusation that he was some spoiled rich kid.

"Yeah, whatever," the young man said. "Now, would you mind stepping away from the car?" He was juggling a bag of food, which smelled like it contained a burger and fries, and a milkshake. He put the food and shake on the hood of the car while he dug in his jean pockets for the car keys.

"So, is this your car?" Fitz asked again. He was determined to get an answer and find out how a kid practically the same age as he was could have a car as nice as this.

The young man ignored Fitz. He found the keys and was about to open the door when Fitz said, "Must be nice to drive a car like that."

"What would you know about it?" the young man snarled.

"280 horsepower, 4-barrel carburetor and a Pistol-Grip 4-speed manual transmission," Fitz rattled off the specs of the car's engine. "Hell, yes, I'd say that must be a sweet ride."

The young man took the key out of the door lock and turned to look at Fitz. "How'd you know that?"

"I'm into cars too," was all that Fitz said.

"Hmmm," muttered the teen regarding Fitz with new eyes. "Maybe you're not the complete loser asshole I thought you were."

Fitz winced when he said that.

"I bet everything you know you picked up from reading car magazines. You've never actually worked on a beauty like this. Am I right?" the young man asked.

Fitz just nodded his head. The young man looked at Fitz intently as though he was deliberating whether or not to continue the conversation. Without saying a word he turned around to unlock the car.

"My name's Zachariah Goodwin, but my friends call me Zeke," the teen said as he slid into the front seat and rolled down the front window. He looked up at Fitz who was still standing there. "My dad owns the auto body shop down on Greene Street. I work there after school. If you like cars, you might learn a thing or two by being in a real auto repair shop."

Zeke turned the key in the ignition and the car's monster engine roared to life. It sounded like a caged beast. Fitz looked on in complete awe at the sight of this teen in the driver's seat, sitting behind the steering wheel of such a powerful car.

"OK, Prince, maybe I'll see you around some time," he said with a devilish grin. But before Fitz could respond, Zeke peeled out of the parking lot leaving skid marks on the road.

Gradually, Zeke and Fitz became good friends. Zeke, who was almost two years older than Fitz, became like the cool, older brother Fitz wished he still had. Although they were from different social classes, the two teens found a lot to talk about and both grew to feel very comfortable with one another.

Fitz's parents, seeing the strong bond between the two boys, welcomed Zeke into their household, inviting him to family events like their 4th of July cookout, Thanksgiving dinner and once even brought him along on the family summer vacation to Martha's Vineyard. For Zeke, the son of an alcoholic mechanic, the experience was eye opening. He had never been on a plane before, much less outside of the state of California, and to be surrounded by so much wealth and affluence was mindblowing.

But there was another reason why Zeke liked hanging out with Fitz and his family. From what he could tell, they were the ideal family. Fitz's dad, Big Jerry, yeah, he was intimidating, but at least he wasn't physically abusive, like his own dad, Zeke thought. Zeke wished he had a dad like Big Jerry. In fact there were many times Zeke wished he could be adopted by the Grants but he knew, of course, that would never happen.

Fitz didn't know what Zeke's home life was like because he never talked about it and he never invited Fitz over to his house. Fitz figured it was because Zeke felt self-conscious about where he lived and about the fact that his family didn't have money. But Fitz didn't care about that, so he never brought the subject up.

One afternoon when he stopped by the auto body shop and Zeke wasn't there, Fitz got concerned. When he called Zeke at home, his dad answered the phone and said Zeke was sick. Two days went by with no word from him. On the third day, Fitz decided to stop by Zeke's house after school. It was the first time he had ever gone there. It was a small, two-bedroom rancher located on a busy street. There was an old clunker on cinder blocks in the driveway and some plastic chairs and toys strewn across the front yard. It was definitely a marked contrast from the neighborhood that Fitz lived in.

He walked to the front door and rang the doorbell. A few moments later Zeke came to the door. He was surprised to see Fitz but didn't open the screen door to let him inside.

"Hey, Zeke, where you been?" Fitz asked. "Haven't seen you in days."

"Yeah, man, I've been feeling under the weather," Zeke said tilting his head down. Fitz had trouble seeing Zeke's face because of the screen door and because there wasn't any light on inside the house.

"Mind if I come in?" Fitz asked.

"Look, man, now isn't a good time," Zeke said, nervously.

"WHO THE HELL IS IT?" came a booming male voice from the back of the house. "IF IT'S THOSE DAMN JEHOVAH WITNESSES, TELL THEM WE DON'T WANT ANY!"

"Is that your dad?" Fitz asked.

"Yeah, and he's in a really bad mood. He won't like it if I invite a stranger in," Zeke said, looking over his shoulder.

"A stranger? What are you talking about? We're friends," Fitz replied.

"Yeah, yeah, we're friends," Zeke said. "Look, Fitz, you've got to leave now. Please."

"ZEKE, WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING TO?" the voice was getting closer. Emerging from the shadows behind Zeke, Fitz saw Elijah Goodwin, a bear of a man, come round the corner and head toward the front door. He angrily switched on the porch light. Fitz recoiled in horror when he saw Zeke's bruised and battered face. He had a terrible black eye that was obviously a couple of days old as the mottled bruise was now a gruesome purple yellowish green hue.

"Oh, it's just you," said Zeke's dad, slightly slurring his words. He was holding a beer in one hand. "How ya doing, Fitz? What brings you around here?"

"Ah, hello, I just wanted to say hi to Zeke, sir," Fitz said nervously casting another quick glance at his friend who had his head down. "Haven't seen him in a few days, so just wanted to check up on him."

"Check up on him?" Elijah Goodwin asked angrily. "What do you mean, check up on him? Boy, what have you been telling folks about me?" He turned and looked menacingly at his son.

"Nothing, sir, absolutely nothing," Fitz said quickly, realizing his mistake. "No, it's that one of my cousins just bought a used car and he's having problems with the transmission and I told him about your shop and I wanted to find out from Zeke when would be a good time for us to bring the car by to get it fixed."

Elijah grunted. He seemed to accept the story that Fitz had made up on the spot. Zeke shot Fitz an appreciative look.

"Bring it by on Thursday. We're open late and one of my mechanics will have time then," said Elijah.

"OK, will do. Goodnight," Fitz said, walking backwards and stepping down off the porch.


Fitz's reminiscing about the past came to a halt when he heard a scream. It came from upstairs, from Olivia's room. He sat upright on the sofa. He heard the scream again. He bolted off the couch and ran upstairs. The door to her bedroom was slightly ajar. He burst into the room without knocking.

"Olivia, are you OK?!"

She woke up in a wild-eyed frenzy and latched onto Fitz, catching him completely off-guard.

"Hey, hey, it's OK. It was just a bad dream," he said softly, stroking her arm.

"Don't go. Don't leave me, please. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me." Her tone was panicky. She was scared.

Fitz looked down at Olivia's face. Although she appeared to be awake she wasn't fully. Her mind was still trapped in whatever she was dreaming about. He switched on the light.

"Turn it off, please," Olivia whispered. She was now fully awake and aware of her surroundings.

Fitz did as she asked. The only light to illuminate the room was coming in from the hallway. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "That was some dream you just had. Do you want to talk about it?"

Olivia closed her eyes and shook her head no. Her eyes scrunched up in pain and then she burst into tears.

Fitz was shocked to see her like this and acted instinctively. He scooted over on the edge of the bed closer to her and pulled her in for a hug. "sssshhhh," he whispered as he lightly rubbed her back.

Olivia's body felt rigid in his grasp and Fitz could feel the front of his shirt getting wet as her tears fell. The dream, nightmare, whatever it was, had completely rattled her. She felt so tiny and fragile. Whatever it was that had disturbed her slumber, he wasn't going to ask her any more about it then, but he didn't know what to say, what to do. In that moment he wanted desperately to comfort her, to reassure her that she was safe there with him. While he continued to hold her, he began to softly sing:

Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around.
Nothing's gonna harm you, no sir, not while I'm around.

Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays,
I'll send 'em howling,
I don't care, I've got ways.

No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare.
Others can desert you,
Not to worry, whistle, I'll be there.

Demons will charm you with a smile, for a while,
But in time...
Nothing can harm you
Not while I'm around...

His voice trailed off. There was nothing but complete silence, except the sound of the patter of the rain outside. Continuing to hold Olivia, he slightly leaned back so he could look at her face. Her body had relaxed while he was singing and she had stopped crying but her cheeks were tear stained. One last lone tear fell from her eye. He gently wiped it away with his thumb. She looked up at him, her mouth open in shock. "You sing…like a baritone-voiced angel."

Fitz let out a light chuckle. "You don't have to tell me what the dream was about, but you're safe here. OK?"

"OK."

Fitz helped her get back under the covers and tucked her in. "You sure I can't get you anything? A glass of water, some tea, hot chocolate?"

"No, no," Olivia said with a weak smile. "You've already given me the best medicine."

"I'm just down the hall. Call me if you need anything," Fitz said, standing straight up.

"Thank you," Olivia said reaching out to touch his hand.

"You're welcome," he replied with a smile. "OK, to bed."

"To bed."

"G'nite."

"Nite."

Fitz walked out of Olivia's bedroom and gently closed the door. Truman was sitting there in the hallway waiting for his master. He looked up at Fitz and cocked his doggie head to the side as if to ask, "So, what happened in there?"

Fitz stood there for a brief moment, his brow furrowed, and said under his breath, "I don't know."

Yes, indeed, what did just happen in there? he thought. Olivia had had a terrible nightmare, brought on by what, he didn't know, and his first instinct had been to comfort, protect and hold her, not to push her away. That wasn't like him.

In one single day, this woman had run him through a gauntlet of emotions and he wasn't an emotional or sentimental man. He prided himself on keeping his emotions in check. But she was bringing out aspects of his personality that had laid dormant for years and was tapping into some deep emotional reserve inside him he wasn't even aware still existed.

How was she able to have this effect on him after such a short time? Fitz shook his head, almost in disbelief, as he made his way down the hall to his own bedroom. "Truman," Fitz said with a smile to the dog who was by his side. "I think your dad is about to get into some real serious trouble with Ms. Olivia Pope."


A/N: omg, isn't Fitz absolutely DIVINE? Who knew he had such sweet tenderness inside him? But based on that flashback, those lyrics could've also applied to how Fitz felt Zeke's situation. Perhaps it was that memory that set the stage for how Fitz reacted to Olivia's nightmare.

It's been quite an emotional day he and Olivia have had together. What will tomorrow bring for these two? What do you think Olivia's nightmare was about? Speculate in a review! Thanks for reading!

P.S. The song that Fitz sings like a lullaby is "Not While I'm Around" from the Broadway musical Sweeney Todd. Google it on YouTube if you're not familiar with it. Great tune!

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