A/N: Long story short, short(ish) chapters is all I can manage health wise right now. Hopefully soon I'll be able to get out more. This is, admittedly, my favorite story to write. I hope you're all still enjoying it.

The ground beneath her is cold. September is coming to a close and the October air is on the horizon. Clouds cover the sun. Olivia rests her forehead on her mother's gravestone. She whistles softly but there's no whistle back. Several tears slip down her cheeks, and she sits back, resting on her knees.

"I know I haven't been here in a while, mama." She reaches up and brushes away a few fallen, yellowing leaves that cover her mother's name. "Remember that guy I was telling you about this summer? He came home for my birthday." The apples of Olivia's cheeks swell. Even without Fitz being in front of her, she still blushes at the thought of him. "We made love last night." There's a long pause, almost as if Olivia's expecting the headstone to answer her back; it doesn't.

"I know you always wanted me to wait until I was married, but I he's honestly the only other man I've been with. You knew about Russell. Knew the day I walked in the house." Olivia recalls her first night with Russell fondly. They'd snuck off together weeks to her seventeen-birthday. Neither had known then that Maya Pope's days were coming to a rapid close. "I don't think you ever realized that I knew you didn't wait until marriage." She shifts, brushing off some dirt on her knees; yet to change from the previous night. After the run-in with her father, she'd immediately come down to the cemetery. "I was born in September 51'. You guys got married in May of 51.' I found your marriage license, the real one."

Olivia had stumbled upon it in search of her birth certificate. Why she needed her birth certificate escapes her mind now. It'd been a scandalous find, though. To see her parents married months before her birth when they'd always told her that she was born long after their marriage.

"He's amazing, mama. He saw me when no one else did. Not Aunt Thea, not Russell, and not daddy." At the mention of her father, Olivia's stomach tightens. "Russell would've killed me. It got bad with him, mama. I haven't told anyone how bad. Aunt Thea knows a little bit, but I haven't told her everything." Her eyes slip closed as memories she'd rather not deal with rocket back. Her right hand reaches up to loosen the neckline of her blouse. A memory of Russell's hands around her neck flashes across her eyes.

"Fitz saw right away. I know I've said it several times, but I wouldn't be. I thought dad understood but…" The argument with her father rings in her head. "He said that if I left, if I continued to see Fitz, I didn't have a home to come home to." Even saying it to her mother's tombstone made the words seem finite, foreign. Despite fighting with her father, she couldn't imagine him not being in her life. Even if from afar.

"I miss you so much, mommy." She starts to cry softly. "Aunt Thea is amazing mom, but I miss you."

The crunch of leaves beneath soles prompts Olivia to lift her head. She turns to find Fitz. He gives her a slanted smile as she wipes her eyes.

"Hey, how long have you been standing there?" Olivia's voice is thick, heavy with the promise of tears.

"Not long. I went by your aunt's and she said I could probably find you here," he says. His eyes flicker over to the tombstone.

Olivia stands. The small run in her stockings at her knees now runs the length of her right thigh. "Yeah, I come here sometimes to think. Or talk. My mom always listens." She nods to the tombstone.

Maya Harris-Pope

Beloved mother. Daughter. Wife.

1925-1968

Fitz smiles. "I like to stand on the beach and talk to my grandfather."

"Why the beach?" Olivia asks.

"He was cremated, and his ashes were scattered. We went up to Half-Moon Bay; he wrote it in his will. I figure that his ashes would make their way down to Santa Barbara on their own."

The thought causes a genuine smile to inch across Olivia's face. Of course, he would see something that way. He's an idealist and that's one of the things she loves most about him. The way he sees the world, both the good and the bad, is how she wishes she could see it. She holds out her hand, wiggling her fingers for him to take. When his hand slides into hers, it feels right. Despite everything her father says, his hand wrapped around hers is just right.

"Fitz, this is my mom, Maya. Mom, this is Fitz," she says, "he's the one I've been telling you about. The one I'm in love with." She looks back to find Fitz smiling softly. "Yes, he's white."

Fitz chuckles. His hand tightens around hers. "This isn't how I expected to meet your mom. Wow. Okay. You didn't tell her about my condition sooner?"

"Condition?" Olivia raises a brow.

"You know, me being…" his voice drops an octave, "white."

Olivia rolls her eyes, unable to stop the smile from cascading across her face. Seconds ago, she was on her knees crying in front of her mother's grave, now she's laughing. This is why she needs him. "I figured it was better for her to see in person. Take it all in."

They both laugh. Olivia shivers against the cool fall air. Fitz shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around her.

"How did it go with your discharge papers?" she asks. "Is everything set for California?" Fitz's smile dims slightly, something that Olivia doesn't miss.

"It's good. Harrison is a lifesaver." Fitz wraps his arms around Olivia from behind.

Olivia snorts. "We can go with lifesaver."

"I heard that you used to make him eat dirt."

"Where'd you hear that from?" she asks. "Harrison actually told you I used to – and could probably still – kick his ass?"

"No. Some guys at the barber shop did."

"They let you in the barber shop?" There's surprise in her voice. She can feel Fitz's arms tense around her. There's something he isn't saying.

"Kinda. I had strict 'no talking' orders from Harrison," he tells her.

"Is that all that you heard? What else happened?" she prods. His lips land against the shell of her ear and she sniffles. She's cold. Before Fitz arrived, she had been sitting on the cold ground for nearly a half hour, just talking to her mother.

There's a long pause behind her. Just the sounds of Fitz's voice fill the air. Around her, D.C is still abuzz. Horns honk, motors roar. "Nothing to worry about. Just men in a barbershop." His arms tighten. "We should get you out of the cold. Can I take you home?"

"Back to your hotel room? Maybe we can use the shower again?" She suggests. "I'd love to spend the night with you again. I'd offer you to spend the night with me at my aunt's, but she knows too much about us."

"What'd you say to her?"

"I didn't say anything. She guessed. There were no details, though. I just told her I enjoyed myself." Though she can't see Fitz's face, she imagines that he's blushing.

"Why don't I get you back to your aunt's right now." Fitz gives her one last squeeze. He then presses his lips against her cheek. "Get you warmed up and changed before we decide where we're going tonight."

Olivia nods. "I'd go anywhere with you."

/

The walk back to Althea Pope-Walker's house is spent with strangers eyeing them with either contempt or wonder. Fitz pulls her close, matches people's gazes and refuses to look away. Other people's comfort – or discomfort – with he and Olivia is their problem, not his. If only he could hold that thought when it came to Olivia's father. He doesn't know if the Pope patriarch's threat is veiled or true. Olivia plays tough, but he knows she isn't, not really, and he refuses to be the thing to get in between her and what family remains.

They round the corner and Fitz's heart drops. He sees them before Olivia, approaching Althea's porch. A naval officer in his dress uniform and a chaplain. Fitz starts to walk faster. He nearly drags Olivia along.

"Fitz, why are you –"

They both hear the scream. It's Thea. Olivia looks over at Fitz before letting his hand go. She starts to run. Fitz runs after her. The only thought he can muster up as he runs after Olivia is, 'No, no, no. Not Marcus.'

Sorry...