Thursday, October 2, 2014 – St. Louis, Missouri – Washington University
Olivia contemplated the quarter-sized drop of strawberry yogurt on the breast of her cream-colored blouse. She examined its lumpy, pale pink circumference before carefully angling the corner of a damp paper towel to wipe it off. To her chagrin, not only did the towel leave a large wet blotch, but pieces of it also crumbled into unsightly white shreds that stubbornly clung to her dusted them off impatiently just as Louise came rushing over to her, her heels clicking a frantic 'clip-clap' against the floor tiles.
"Do you have all of them?" Olivia asked Louise, before she could even open her mouth.
"Yes," Louise answered breathlessly, "We had six options pulled from the master closet in D.C.: striped red and white, lavender, gray, cornflower blue, lime, and yellow."
She held out six different ties, all of which were draped down her arm starting from her shoulder.
"Absolutely no yellow, lime, or striped…and I don't really like that cornflower either," Olivia answered, "let me see the lavender and the gray by themselves?"
Louise pulled the four offending ties off her arm and held out the rest. Olivia studied them for a minute.
"You know what? I'll just take these and I'll make the decision when I see him. But right now, I need you to call in the staffers with the cameras and make sure that we've reviewed all the footage possible. Make sure that the volunteers are still out there canvassing and phoning. And then, confirm that Rona is here and ready to go because we need someone to start following and recording these popularity ratings the minute these two go on stage. We need every single resource we can lay our hands on from now until November. And then, please tell Judith that she can come in now."
Olivia took the ties and draped them over her own arm as Louise hurried away, clip-clapping her way out. Olivia walked over to the far end ofthe back room of the Washington University Athletic Complex, and stood behind the thick, blue drapery that hung between her and the stage of the large gymnasium-turned-debate she could neither see nor hear them, she could certainly sense the growing anticipation of the audience as they filled in the hundreds of seats facing the empty podiums that would, in fifteen minutes or so, be taken. She had done this before – four years ago she had stood in the same position behind similar blue curtains, and soaking in the fast-paced and focused energy that kicked the competitive political atmosphere into overdrive. And now, one term later, everything was almost exactly the same: staffers were running back and forth brandishing papers with facts and figures, phones were ringing off the hooks, and new volunteers were looking around nervously for delegation. Expensive, precious time had been devoted to preparing for this very moment; months were filled with tedious days spent compiling briefing books with prepared questions, and long grueling hours were spent practicing smart, relevant answers. And now, the day was finally here, and despite the annoying somersaults her stomach had suddenly taken to, she didn't want to be anywhere else. The door to the back room opened and Olivia turned around, expecting to see Louise rushing in with more ties. But instead it was Cyrus. He looked agitated and wary – he looked like Cyrus. She smiled at him as he walked over to her.
"You're late," she told him out, pointing at her watch.
"Yeah, yeah. I got stuck in the prep room with a field staffer carrying lawn signs and buttons. What greenhorns did we even hire for this thing? And why don't I know anything about this moderator either? Do we even know his party affiliation? Will it count against us if we say we don't like PBS?" Cyrus groaned.
"We're working with great and knowledgeable campaign staff. The field staffer with the lawn signs is David, a political science major and recent Georgetown graduate. I hired him and it's his first job so be nice and don't scare him. Michael Kentwood is a CBS news correspondent, and this is his first moderating job. He has three young kids, his wife owns a charity organization, they're both apolitical and Roman Catholic, and they live in a huge Dutch colonial in northern New Jersey. We have nothing to worry about, Fitz has nothing to worry about, and you need to calm down."
"He's nervous Liv," Cyrus mumbled, "I can see all over his face that he's nervous. The man hasn't debated in four years Olivia, and I think…I think we didn't prepare him enough."
Olivia straightened her shoulders and stared into the depths of blue before her.
"He's allowed to be nervous," she said calmly, "and we don't want him over-prepared. You know just as well as I do that a candidate with too much information in his head is rote and unfocused; we don't want a Reagan of '84. We have prepped him on everything he needs to know; this is a man who knows what he's doing. His style is flawless, we had an excellent mock opponent, and he swept the floor in his mock debates. Fitz has done this before and he's done it well. We trust him Cyrus, remember?" Olivia nudged Cyrus in the shoulder.
Cyrus inhaled sharply through his teeth, "Fine, you're right. You're right, you're so right…I'm worrying. I am the nervous wreck. Ah, I hate when you're right."
"You love when I'm right," Olivia teased, slipping her arm through his, "especially during election year."
Cyrus cocked his head and smirked at Olivia.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing, nothing," Cyrus sighed pointedly, staring into his empty cup. "I'm just surprised that's all. I didn't expect to see you back here as campaign manager again. But then again…I didn't really expect to see a lot of what has transpired over the past two years."
"What are you saying? Did you not expect him to run again? As his Chief of Staff two terms in a row, shouldn't you hold all confidence in him?"
"No, not him. I just thought you'd miss running the show…Pope and Associates and all."
"I do," Olivia paused thoughtfully, "I do miss it. But I trust Harrison."
Cyrus nodded slowly and the two of them stood there in silence for a moment, before he spoke again, "You did a really great job with him, you know."
"Well if we're giving credit Mr. Beene, you deserve a ton of it."
"You know that's not what I meant," Cyrus said knowingly, "he's happy, very. I like it."
Olivia bit back a wide smile, "Me too. I'm happy too."
"I will tell you though, that it definitely makes my job a lot easier."
Olivia raised an eyebrow, "So this is all for personal gain?"
"Absolutely."
Olivia laughed and rested her chin on Cyrus's them, the door to the room opened, and Fitz stepped. He was as impossibly handsome as ever, standing in a dark blue suit and looking – as Cyrus had correctly noted – nervous. And he was just as she had expected – tie-less. Fitz walked over to the two of them.
"Mr. President," Cyrus acknowledged.
"Cyrus," Fitz answered, his eyes locked on Olivia.
"Mr. President," Cyrus began warningly, "you have ten minutes, sir."
But his words fell on deaf ears. He looked back and forth between Olivia and Fitz – who as far as he could tell, had entirely forgotten his existence – and then cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"I'm going to uh…I'm going to go wait out by the entrance to the complex."
"Good idea," Fitz mumbled.
Cyrus hurried out and once the door shut behind him,Fitz grabbed Olivia at the waist. The strength of his fingers that gripped at her flesh through her dress filled her with that extrasensory experience she couldn't grasp no matter how hard she tried. It was beyond physical, beyond sensual; beyond anything she pressed his forehead against hers and leaned in for a kiss. Olivia leaned forward, but then stopped.
"Wait," she breathed.
"Mmm…I spent a total of thirty-three hours and…" Fitz leaned over Olivia's shoulder to look at his watch, "approximately forty minutes away from you preparing for this debate. And now we only have ten minutes before Cyrus decides to call in the National Guard to airlift me onto that stage. So no, I'm not waiting," he nuzzled into her neck.
Olivia pressed her pinky finger to Fitz's lips, and then pulled both ties off her arm and held them up his chest right under his neck. She scrutinized them carefully.
"Gray. Definitely the Gray," she said confidently.
Expertly, she tied it underneath his collar and smoothed it out.
"How many times a day do you ask yourself, 'when will he learn how to pick out his own ties?"
Olivia grinned, "Do you really want to know that answer?"
Fitz laughed. He cradled her jaw and kissed her,sending warm shivers over her skin as his fingers ran up her bare arms, slipped under the shoulders of her dress, and skated, almost accidentally, across her bra straps. Olivia cupped the back of his neck and pulled him closer, guiding them both through that the heady, ardent feeling thatrendered everything around them forgettable and murky. They stood, wrapped in each other, in the middle of one of the most pivotal moments of his careerand yet, she couldn't feel more comfortable and at home. Even in the frenzy and chaos that was these past months, they were simple – calm and alone; transported elsewhere that was above and , the door opened and Judith, their nanny, entered looking very encumbered by a double stroller and Fitz broke apart just as Judith looked up.
"Oh!" Judith exclaimed, her face reddening, "I'm sorry Mr. Grant, Mrs. Grant."
"No, no, it's fine. Bring them in," Olivia beckoned.
Still clearly embarrassed, Judith shuffled forward. She wheeled the stroller around and there, side by side, sat Isabelle and her twin brother, Nathan. The two were sound asleep and coincidentally slumped over towards each other. They were the picture of innocence and serenity: deep, peaceful breathing with untroubled, sleepy hair was wonderfully soft and tightly curled, and a light brown that would soon darken in the coming months. Nathan twitched adorably in his gray sweater, clearly in the midst of a dream. And Isabelle slept almost entirely still, her mouth slightly parted open in the way that baby's mouths do.
"Oh no…they're sleeping," Olivia said disappointed, "I should have waited to feed them. I wanted them to see you go out for your big debate. Do you think we should wake them?"
"No," Fitz whispered, dropping down to his twins' eye level, "They have two more debates to be awake for."
He leaned in and pressed a kiss against each of their true baby fashion, they stirred slightly but never broke their slumber. Fitz was watching his twins contentedly, and Olivia smiled to herself. She would never tire of the look he got on his face when he saw his children – awe and adoration softened with still tranquility. He had been an unsurprisingly wonderful husband and father. Olivia watched him quietly, listening to the seconds tick could have stood that way with the three of them forever, and she knew that for Fitz too, time had still, she reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"You should get going…" she reminded quietly.
Under her hand, she felt Fitz's shoulders rise with a deep breath before he stood up. And right on cue,the moderator's amplified voice rang out,announcing the structure and rules of the debate, "…with two-minute answers for the first question, and then there will be an open discussion for the remainder of each segment…."
"Hey, are you nervous?" she asked.
Fitz sighed and looked down, but Olivia lifted his chin up with the tip of her finger and smiled encouragingly.
"Fitz?"
"Liv?"
"You've got this. I know you do, and you know it too. You are going to go out there and do amazing.You are going to go out there and you are going to show everyone what you're about and they will love you – over and is no one else out there who does what you do the way you do it. It works for you because it works; value your process. Don't think about Senator Douglas, don't think about numbers, or ratings…don't think about anyone else but those people out there who want to hear from you,and the three of us back here behind this curtain rooting for you – everyday, all the time, a thousand it?" She asked.
Fitz took a deep breath, "I got it."
"Good. Now show them who you are."
Olivia lightly kissed his cheek. With one hand, she grabbed onto the handle of the double stroller and wheeled Nathan and Isabelle out to the very corner of the stage entrance. Fitz stood by her side, holding on tightly to her free hand. She squeezed it reassuringly and took a deep breath just as the moderator's voice called out:
"…as we welcome President Fitzgerald Grant and Senator Lucas Douglas."
In the stroller, Olivia felt one of the twins stir awake and then slowly and carefully, she felt Fitz's hand slip out of her heart ached with pride as he gave her one last look at her before he walked out onto the stage thundering with applause, ready to claim everything that was his.
end.
Mr. and Mrs. Grant, *swoon* (although I like to think that officially, Olivia would go by 'Pope-Grant'). And fraternal twins – way too adorable! So Fitz is running for President again with the right woman by his side, and the odds are looking good. I am just super happy for them both (even Cyrus seems to have come around with the idea). Writing the last chapter was bittersweet, but ending the story at this point seemed only natural. These two have made a decision to be together, and it is a decision that marks the end of one part of their relationship, and to manipulate it further seems unnecessary. But, I do know that with this two-year time jump, there are a lot of loose ends and TONS of questions. But I have had the idea for a sequel rolling around in my head for a couple of weeks now (I can't make any promises!) and such a sequel would definitely give me the chance to answer those burning questions you probably have (like what's marriage like for Olitz? Where is Mellie and what's she up to? Is Olivia really done with Pope & Associates? How did Olivia and Fitz manage to explain the birth of Nathan and Isabelle, let alone their relationship? How did they manage to explain this to Karen and Jerry? And Olivia's parents?) I feel terrible leaving you guys in the middle of a hiatus, but if I do decide to do a sequel, I will surely time it to last during those sad, long, Scandal-less summer months. It has been SO, SO much fun to write this story for you guys and I am truly appreciative of all your support, reviews, and enthusiasm. Getting the little notification e-mails of a new review has always been an awesome part of writing this and I'm glad you guys enjoyed this story – it means a lot to me! SO THANK YOU.