AN: I do not own Led Zeppelin's music catalogue. This version is based on the Corrinne Bailey Rae live cover. If you get a chance take a listen. Also, MVP Kamala Harris inspired Olivia's new moniker in this chapter.

Georgia on my Mind

One year later

Abby enters the residence, "Hey, where is everybody?"

"Hey Abs, Ma'Liv and Karen are in the closet and I am headed to the basketball game at school," Gerry responds.

"All right, have fun but don't do anything I would do."

He laughs, "I am pretty sure my security detail guarantees I won't get arrested."

"I have never been arrested."

He stares, "Duly noted."

Abby enters the large closet, "Gerry just left…aren't you going with him?"

Olivia responds, "She is not. Our girl has a study date at the library."

Abby smiles wide, "Ooh, who is he? When did we meet him? What does he look like? Has Huck checked him out?"

Karen blushes, "His name is Paul Yee. He is in my literature class. He is six feet tall, broad shoulders, long black hair that he wears in a stubby ponytail. His best feature is his gorgeous brown eyes framed by nerdy black glasses. My personal Clark Kent. Please don't Huck anywhere near him. He is scarier than Dad."

"Smart move going on a date while the Commander in Chief is out of the country. I recommend the archives section. No one really goes up there and you can have all the privacy you need."

"Abby! We are not advising her on making out at the library."

"What, I am trying to give my girl some life skills. Plus, given how tight her jeans are she wants the information."

They all burst into laughter. "Ma'Liv can I borrow your black motorcycle jacket?"

"Sure, check the back row of my side of the closet."

"This will be easier than I thought. The kids are taken care of, so we are going out," she holds up her hand. "Save it. Your man is across the world at the G-20 Summit. You are simultaneously holding his country together and raising the kids. You need a night out."

"You of all people know the level of security and press involved with me leaving our prison cell. Let's just grab a bottle of wine and hang out in the theater room."

"Nada, we are going to a bar where we can drink, dance and enjoy a little karaoke."

Late night

Olivia admits to herself that she was having a great time. The dark bar was popular with Secret Service. She could not be safer in any place other than the White House. She turned on her bar stool to watch Harrison on stage performing his best version of Michael Jackson's P.Y.T. The singing should have resulted in resounding boos, but the dancing kept the crowd cheering. His tie was loose, and he was currently thrusting his hips while stripping out of his suspenders.

Her phone vibrated on the mahogany bar. She picked it up to read the incoming message: Never leaving the country without the love of my life again. She sighs taking a large sip of her scotch. The flavor on her tongue reminds her of Fitz's kisses. A small smile plays on her lips remembering the kiss they shared when she escorted him to Marine 1. She stands to her feet and stumbles her way to the stage. The jockey looks up in surprise, "Uh, First...Chief…Ms. Pope. How can I help you?"

"I am drunk enough to sing in public. Would you place this song in the queue?" She turns her phone screen toward the young hipster.

He raises his eyebrows, "Impressive. You are up after the red head screeching through Pink's Trouble."

The crowd cheers Abby off stage. Olivia climbs the steps stopping in front of the microphone. The crowd grows quiet with eager anticipation. The heavy guitar chords fill the room while she clutches the microphone stand. She closes her eyes breathing deeply before she opens her mouth to ease the ache in her heart and soul.

Working to seven to eleven almost every night…It really makes life a drag…I don't think that's right…I've really been the best of fools…I did what I could…'Cause I love you baby…How I love you, baby…How I love you, darling boy…Since I've been loving you…I'm about to lose my worried mind…Whoa, Whoa

Everybody trying to tell me it ain't good…Let me tell you I really did the best I could…I've been working from seven to eleven every night…Since I've been loving you…I'm about to lose my worried mind…Whoa, Whoa

Said I've been crying…Oh, my tears they fell like rain… they fell like rain…Oh Lord, I've been trying to do the very best I could…I've been working from seven to eleven every night…Whoa, whoa…Since I've been loving you…I'm about to lose my worried mind…Hmm, Hmm

Olivia ends the song, and the eruption of cheers, clapping and whistles halts her melancholy swaying. She releasees the microphone and catches the stray tear on her cheek. She smiles softly, "Thanks, I think I need to call it a night."

Harrison stops recording on his phone and sends the link to a secure number with a simple message: Someone misses you.

Across the International Date Line

The President of the United States folds his hands on the conference table during the Cyber Security meeting. I am two second away from snapping Putin's tiny neck. A tap on his shoulder from Agent Daniel stops his homicidal thoughts. "Sir," he hands him a phone from his breast pocket. Fitz stands and excuses himself from the meeting. The agent leads him out of the room and down the hall to a small alcove. He leans against the wall and opens the video. A wide smile adorns his face. His Livvie is standing on stage in leather pants and a loose draped, white silk halter top. He listens to her belt out a bluesy version of the Led Zeppelin track he had no idea she knew and his heart clenches. His girl is hurting without him. He types a quick message back to the sender, pockets the phone and returns to the meeting room at a determined pace.

"I have not directed any member of my government to interfere or disrupt any of your systems," the Russian translator repeats.

"That is a damnable lie if ever I heard one," Fitz announces from the doorway. Every head in the room snaps in his direction. "I could use diplomacy…try to reach consensus…pretend you are a credible partner, but I need to get home to more pressing matters. Vladimir, if my people or any of our allies catch your henchmen in our systems; I am coming for your personal assets. I will unleash a worm that will drain you and anyone connected to you dry. Are we clear?" The Russian President scowls from his seat but does not respond. "Good, meeting adjourned."

Next day late night

Olivia wakes from a restless sleep. These erotic dreams are getting too real. She reaches her hand between her thighs to ease the throbbing at her core. Her eyes shoot open when her fingers stroke silken curls instead of her wet folds. She lifts the sheet blinking rapidly. Fitz mumbles from between her plump lips, "Nice of you to wake up and join the fun."

"What…how did you get here? The summit," she trails off throwing her head back.

He stops his ministrations. "Do you really want to be Chief of Staff or would you prefer being future First Lady?" He dives back down.

"Oh fuck," she moans. He works her clit with a practiced precision to accelerate her first of many orgasms for the night. Once she is panting boneless mess; he crawls up her body to kiss her properly so she can taste how much she missed him. She sighs against his mouth before pushing his shoulder. He rolls over so she can straddle him. She maps his beautiful chest and six pack with kisses and caresses. "I love you."

His eyes widen in shock because she rarely says it first. He grabs her hips and moves her over his painfully rigid staff. She reaches down to line them up before sinking down. They release a collective sigh of relief and ecstasy. Hours later Fitz lies on his stomach with Olivia secure across his back. The fingers of her left-hand rake through his curls. The fingers of their right hands are laced together against the mattress. He is so relaxed he is almost asleep when he hears her quiet voice in his ear, "Marry me."