A/N: I sat down to do chapter updates and instead this came out. Have to say that I was inspired by watching old Luke & Laura from General Hospital (aka the reason why I fell in love with writing) clips on Youtube along with a marathon of 'A Different World.' Let's not forget playing Jidenna's Bambi on repeat. One of these days I'll write an update for my stories. Haven't abandoned anything. It's fellowship season and I'm busting my butt along with tending to some severe health issues.

Hope you enjoy this quick fic. I enjoyed writing it.

Fitz knew his problems wouldn't be solved by downing a second glass of scotch. Inevitably, the single-malt, twenty-year-old Scotch would only make things worse. What was a headache on top of heartache, though? A distraction? A nuisance? It didn't matter. Right now, he needed a drink. Several. Extra strong at that. However, many it would take to sleep through tomorrow. Tomorrow, the love of his life was getting married. But not to him.

A knock sounded on his office door. Fitz lifted his head. It was 9 pm. He thought everyone else had cleared out for the night, leaving him to sulk in peace over paperwork.

"Come in," Fitz called out.

The door opened to reveal Marcus, Fitz's best friend. Over his right arm, Marcus carried his coat. In his left hand were a set of keys. "Heading out. Why don't you let me give you a ride home, man?" he suggested.

"I'm good. Have a few more things I should get sorted before I go," Fitz answered. He took another swig of Scotch.

The disappointment on Marcus's face was more than apparent. "I'm worried about you."

Fitz chuckled but there was no humor in his laugh. Marcus was one of the only people Fitz let into his private life; one of his only friends. Life at the top was lonely and the only person he wanted to be with him belonged to another. But that was his fault and not something he wished to remember. Big Gerry had given him an ultimatum and Fitz took the coward's way out.

"Don't, I'm fine." He stood and pushed away from his desk, walking over to a window. The street below buzzed with life. Cars zigged and zagged over yellow lines. Above, the sky glittered with stars. Somewhere out in the vast expanse of D.C., Olivia Pope was preparing for her wedding.

"You're not going tomorrow, are you?" Marcus asked.

An ugly snort tried to fight its way out of Fitz. Sure, he was the one with the Scotch, but Marcus was the inebriated one if he thought Fitz was stepping a foot near Whittemore House. Why would he want to watch the woman he loved marry someone else? Though, to be fair, Edison Davis wasn't just someone else. The man was in line for a presidential run after winning his senate bid; he was heir to the Davis political dynasty; the next JFK. With Olivia by his side, he'd be Mr. President in no time. "Good night, Marcus."

"Don't drive home. Call me before you try." Marcus offered; clearly, he knew not to push.

Fitz nodded, "You should head home, get some sleep before tomorrow. Don't want to miss the event of the century." He downed the rest of his class, soliciting a headshake from his friend.

"Fitz…" Marcus started.

"Goodnight and close my door as you head out."

Marcus nodded. A somber smile ebbed and waned around his face before he walked out of the door. It shut softly behind him. Fitz stared at it for a long moment. The silence around him loud, almost defeating. Someone out there was on their way to having his life. On the outside, he was the playboy, jet-setting, philanthropist. On the inside, he was a washed-up millionaire, afraid of losing an inherited empire, and afraid of bringing Olivia into the muck with him.

Anger seized Fitz's frame. His grip tightened on the tumbler beneath his fingers, and he lobbed the glass across the room at the door. It hit the wood, shattering into a million little pieces. Seconds later, there was another knock. This time gentler. Marcus.

"I said leave!" Fitz bellowed. The tone of his voice even took him by surprise. It was dark, harsh. Marcus just couldn't take a hint, could he? The door pushed open. But it wasn't Marcus. His heart jumped in his chest. Olivia. His heart ached; his fingers flexed. Every inch of him needed her.

"How much have you had to drink?" she asked, pushing the door open wider. Though she wore sweats, his eyes still drank her in, and his heart still thundered. Need. Ache. Want. But he couldn't. He could see the ridiculously large engagement ring wrapped around her petite finger. It was nearly the size of her hand. Davis was annoying, but clearly, he was smart.

A snarl rose in his throat. How dare she? How dare she come here? The night before she was to get married. Who the hell did she think she was? "I don't want you here either," he huffed. His slate eyes narrowed, and he could see the shock rippled across her face.

"I came to give you this," she said. Her tone lacked bite. It was passive, despite the anger he wanted from her. She held up an envelope with his name and address. "It was marked 'return to sender."

He knew what it was automatically. A wedding invitation. He'd had Marisol, his assistant, return it before he'd even opened it. The return address was a dead giveaway. Mr. Edison Davis and the future Mrs. Pope-Davis wanted to invite them to their wedding. Having his heart ripped open in the middle of a festive celebration wasn't the way he wanted to die. Olivia could keep her invitation. Hopefully, Edison would choke on it.

"Then you should take that as a hint that I wasn't coming. Get out." Venom dripped from his words.

"We were friends once, Fitz. Best friends. You said you'd always be here for me. I would like you to be here for me now." Her eyes found his.

They had been friends. He'd trusted her with every piece of him. There'd been no hesitation in selecting her to head the Grant Family Foundation. She was the epitome of integrity and grace. Yes, she was almost too young for the job, having been barely twenty-seven at the time. Some had believed that the only reason she was afforded her position was because she'd slept with him, but it wasn't the truth. They'd cross that line together, far after her promotion.

"We were never friends," Fitz hissed, "now leave." He sat back down, refusing to look up, though he could feel her coming closer. Further into the room. He wanted to hurt her, force her to leave by any means necessary.

"You're mad at me for moving on when you were the one who told me to leave," her voice was soft, quiet. "When you love someone, you let them go, if they come back; they were yours. You wouldn't let me come back. You slept with her."

He opened his mouth to retort. To tell her that firing her was a "board" approved decision. He'd been contemplating stepping back from all things Grant Family Foundation to give her the room to spread her wings, to watch her soar. Had he, though, Fitz knew his father would've shut it down and that was a risk Fitz couldn't make. The Grant Family Foundation had made huge headway in finding a cure for Huntington's Disease that had Kill Margaret Grant. Fitz refused to let it die out in vain. Sleeping with his ex-wife Mellie and letting Olivia find them, was just another nail in the coffin – a means to an end.

"Are you done, yet? I'm not going. Give Senator Davis my best. I hope he's everything you ever wished. Now, leave."

"Fitz…" The envelope slid along his desk. He looked up, regretting so as soon as he did. Her doe eyes were wide, large with the promise of tears. Her perfect lips were parted just enough for him to see her pearly white teeth. She wasn't going to go unless he gave her a reason to…

"Unless you want to fuck for old time's sake," he started, hating the words as soon as they slipped out, "leave. I can't control my erections around you and we both know you love being on all-fours, but I'd hate to make you renege on wedding vows you haven't even given yet."

The slap was harsh, swift. He hadn't even seen her coming, but he did feel the sting of pain and the taste of blood; she'd caught him with her ring. "I can't believe I ever loved you."

"Likewise." He wiped the blood from his bottom lip. Olivia sank away, backing out the office door and letting it slam shut behind her. Soon as the coast was clear, Fitz let out a low sob. "I still love you," he whispered.

/

In t-minus twenty minutes, she would become Olivia Carolyn Pope-Davis. And it scared her shitless. She was thirty years old. Edison was an amazing man, without question. He was fearless, intelligent, and kind to a fault. He'd held out hope for her for nearly two years, waiting for her to come around, and fall in love. Everything about Edison was right on paper. He was D.C.'s most eligible bachelor with a charming smile, high profile family, and career. Edison was everything Olivia was supposed to want and part of her was grateful that he'd chosen her.

The list of women, white, Black, and whatever in between who fell at his feet for the chance to become the next Jackie O' was longer than Olivia's arms, yet he'd only wanted her. Together, they made one hell of a team. And not just that. He was genuinely good to her and she did love him. Just not like she'd love Fitzgerald Grant. Heading up the Grant Family Foundation was her first job after graduate school – heading up their DEI department had been a fight from the jump. Gerry Grant was a bullish man who didn't think he was wrong about anything ever. But working alongside Gerry's son, Fitz was a breath of fresh air. She and Fitz had fallen together and before either of them knew it, they were spending lazy days side by side with varying books, hot cups of tea, and not a stitch of clothing. She'd never meant to fall for her boss, nor receive the subsequent promotion while with him, either. Despite those around her warning her of Fitz's ex-wife from hell and his playboy reputation, Olivia had wanted him with everything inside of her. Even though they'd only shared the surface level of their relationship to wondering eyes. Coquettish friends and nothing more to all who pried.

And he'd thrown it all away. One minute they were fine, the next she was trying to fill the cracks of her heart with tarnished gold in hopes of making it whole. There wasn't a part of her life that Fitzgerald Grant couldn't touch. Finding him with his ex-wife and losing her job in one fail swoop had almost ruined her. It had ruined her. Before Fitz, she'd never been in love. After, she was afraid of the fall. Yes, she knew that they were opposites. On paper, with mounting law school and MBA program debt, she most certainly looked to be after him solely for the perks, but it'd never been that for her. Ever. He didn't show it often, but Fitz Grant was the man of the people and for the people, despite the ivory tower he was born into.

It was over now. Especially after the way he'd treated her last night. It'd been stupid and foolish of her to invite him, anyways. They'd never truly gone public with their relationship so on paper she was inviting her former boss; in private, some knew. Had she even really wanted him there, to begin with? She'd extended an olive branch at the behest of her soon-to-be mother-in-law. If Grant was a friend of Olivia's, surely, he'd be a friend of Edison's. If only Maybelle Davis knew just how friendly he'd been, then she would've never suggested. Olivia was always afraid to step forward, though, and bear the truth. Everyone had suspected them to have dated, but only a few knew the extent to the truth of just how in love they'd been. Maybe part of her had gone to his office in silly hopes of him telling her not to marry Edison. But that part was small, finite. Gone. Today, she was going to marry the one she should've always been with.

"We should get you lined up, Liv."

Olivia blinked hard, realizing that she'd been starring at her bouquet for the last several minutes, lost in thought. She turned to find Abby, her best friend, dressed in a dusty rose-toned dress. The room was abuzz with bridesmaids, an adorable flower girl in Edison's niece, and the noticeable absence of Olivia's mother. Maya Pope had been gone from this world for nearly a decade now. Her absence was a gaping hole that Olivia never quite filled. Sandra, her stepmother, was a wonderful woman, but never fit just right.

"Where's my dad?" Olivia asked, swallowing the lump that budded in her throat. A lone tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away, prompting a frown from Abby.

"Eli is –"

"Here, gumdrop. Just waiting on you to give me the sign."

Olivia smiled as Eli came into view. He looked wonderful in his tux. "You clean up nice, dad."

"I can say the same about you," he said as he entered the room. He held out his left arm.

Olivia stood; the weight of her dress nearly kept her down. Why had she opted for a full skirt, again? Full skirt, tight bodice, off-the-shoulder straps, and tiny beading details. It was her dream dress; one she'd looked at in vain before. She threaded her left arm through her father's.

"Ready to become Mrs. Davis?" Abby asked.

"Pope-Davis," Eli corrected.

Olivia rolled her eyes. She wasn't holding onto her father's last name solely for him but rather for her mother. She wanted a part of her mother to always be with her. The music started, signaling that everyone was seated. Abby reached up to fix the veil that sat on top of Olivia's head, pulling it over to cover Olivia's face. Her entire look was an understated glam. Dusty roses, dark plums, mauves, and soft golds. Understated, yet here.

As they made their way into the lobby of the ballroom, Olivia watched over her bridesmaids. The plum and dusty rose dresses moved down the path as the procession started. Edison's niece solicited a chorus of 'aw' as she moved. Soon it was Olivia's turn. The ballroom was covered in flowers. At the front of the ballroom stood Edison. Olivia watched as his eyes landed on her. Despite being unable to see her face, he still looked close to tears. This was right. She was doing the right thing. Last night's brief encounter with Fitz had proven it. Besides, although the last two years with Edison hadn't been the overwhelming, life-changing, devastating love she had with Fitz, it was nice. They respected each other, she and Edison. Even though he was nearly twelve years her senior, they had a good deal in common. He treated her like a prize and a partner. He looked at her as if she'd hung the moon and arranged the stars. This was who she should've always wanted.

"That's our cue, Livvie…" Eli whispered. He slipped a hand over Olivia's hand that clung to his bicep. She smiled wide as the organist began to play 'Here Comes the Bride' though she couldn't hide the tremble of her fingers. "It's okay to be nervous," Eli assured, "I was when I watched your mom walk down the aisle."

Olivia nodded. "I wish she was here." They began to walk.

"She's watching over you, guiding you. Showing you the way always."

Again, she nodded. Her eyes danced through the haze of the veil to find friends and family alike, all on their toes, their eyes on her. Once they reached Edison, Eli pulled her veil back, kissing her on the forehead before departing. She passed her bouquet to Abby and joined hands with Edison who wore a billion-dollar smile. His eyes sparkled under the lights and there was no hesitation to be found in his irises.

The reverend cleared his voice. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Edison and Olivia in matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore, is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate, these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

A loose tear slips down Olivia's right cheek. She kept her gaze pointed; eyes only on who was in front of her rather than those on the side. This was it. This was the moment she became Mrs. Pope-Davis. Seconds ticked off the clock. No one spoke up. The reverend smiled.

"Marriage is the union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind. It is intended for their mutual joy – and for the help and comfort given on another in prosperity and adversity. But more importantly – it is a means through which a stable and loving environment may be attained.

Through marriage, Edison and Olivia make a commitment together to face their disappointments – embrace their dreams – realize their hopes – and accept each other's failures. Edison and Olivia will promise one another to aspire to these ideals throughout their lives together – through mutual understanding – openness – and sensitivity to each other.

We are here today – before God – because marriage is one of His most sacred wishes – to witness the joining in the marriage of Edison and Olivia. This occasion marks the celebration of love and commitment with which this man and this woman begin their life together. And now – through me – He joins you together in one of the holiest bonds."

Several more tears fell, and Olivia held tight to Edison's hands instead of wiping it away. She was afraid of floating away or drowning if she let him go. Her emotions were overflowing. Suddenly the reverend's words felt heavy. Lead like. They were finite. She couldn't walk away from them.

"Do you Edison take Olivia to be your wife – to live together after God's ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon her your heart's deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Edison confirmed. His smile grew – if possible – even bigger.

The reverend turned his attention to Olivia, and it was her turn. She'd recited these two words to herself and out loud a thousand times. Hundreds of thousands, but right now, the thought of saying them aloud terrified her. You're doing the right thing, she told herself, lips poised to say them, but she'd never get the chance.

A loud gasp crackled through the air. The entire room turned, all hundred plus guests. Someone was yelling. Several others were yelled, too.

"Baby, please!" Olivia turned at the sound of the voice. It couldn't be. It…It was.

"Fitz?" she called out, gobsmacked.

"Don't do it! Don't marry him. You can't. You are my everything!" Fitz shouted across to the altar. Olivia watched as her father and now stepbrother Harrison stomped down the aisle. Eli didn't know who or rather what Fitz was to her, but Harrison did. Harrison had been there to pick up the pieces when Fitz had shattered her heart.

"Get out of here!" Edison shouted back. He gripped Olivia's hand tightly.

"I got it!" Harrison shouted, but he didn't. Fitz wasn't stopping. Despite Harrison and Eli's hold, Fitz kept moving forward. Marcus jumped out from a set of pews. He tried to help, though it wasn't clear if he was pushing Fitz back or egging him forward.

"Olivia, please. You are the love of my life. You are my life. I need you!" Fitz continued to shout. He looked worse for wear, dressed still in the suit she'd seen him in last night. His hair jutted up in spurts as if he'd been pulling on it all night (or rather she had).

Olivia took several steps forward, letting go of one of Edison's hands. Both of his hands still gripped tightly to her left wrist. She could feel the fear in his grasp.

"Livvie, what are you doing?" Edison asked.

"Please!" Fitz shouted again.

"That's it," Eli screamed. "Out! Now!"

Olivia turned to look back at Edison, yanking her wrist from his grasp. "I'm sorry, Edison. You're an amazing man who needs someone who can love you as you deserve. Not someone who's settling…" she could see the hurt ripple across Edison's face. "I'm sorry."

"No. Olivia. No. I love you!" Edison pleaded. His words sliced into her heart, but she couldn't be responsible for them. Note deterred by them. Not when everything she wanted was just around the river bend.

"I'm sorry…" Tears slipped down her cheeks and she pulled out of Edison's hold. She pushed her legs forward, in Fitz's direction. Everything seemed to be moving simultaneously too fast and too slow. All around her faces blurred together. Gasps and camera flashes followed her movements and then she was in Fitz's arms, feet inches off the ground. He smelled like Scotch and sadness. His grip was tight, his tears salty against her lips as she kissed him.

"I love you so much, Livvie. I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for what I did. Can you forgive me? If I explain it all, will you?" He asked, pulling back.

"I love you. Take me away from here," she demanded.

"No, Liv. No! He hurt you," Harrison, who Olivia had even forgotten existed up until his voice broke through the haze. She didn't look up, nor acknowledge her stepbrother's presence.

Her feet touched the aisle and suddenly they were on the move again. Behind them, the room thundered. They tore from the Whittemore home and into the day. They didn't stop running until they reached Fitz's haphazardly parked Jaguar. Together, they shoved Olivia's dress into the low, two-seater vehicle. Before Fitz could even get the keys into the ignition, Olivia's lips were on his. She kissed him as if he was the only oxygen source left and she'd just gotten rid of water-filled lungs.

It was a prayer, a hope, a hymn, an appreciation, and a wish upon a star. Neither knew where the hell they were going, but at least they were together.