Disclaimer: Shondaland and ABC own these characters. Ugh!

NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers

DAY TWO…

She dreamt of his lips on her skin, waking when her fingers raked over the cold softness of the pillow, instead of his thick curls. Olivia groaned, pushing the pillow away.

It was Day Two without Fitz

She lay there for a moment, wanting to pull the covers over her head and return to her dreams. But her bladder had other ideas. Shrinking daily with Baby Grant's presence, it had her staggering out of bed towards the bathroom.

While washing her hands, she stared at the mirror picturing his reflection; his eyes distracted while he shaved, watching her brushing her teeth or straightening her hair. Sighing her reached for the toothbrush, then smiled remembering how they'd fought over it.

Much later, after Olivia had showered, dressed and was semi-prepared to face the day, she opened the door to find all four dogs waiting outside for her.

They gave little barks of greeting wagging their tails, swarming around her in their eagerness to be first to get her good morning pat. Once received, they trotted off, in search of other priorities.

"Rascally rascals." Olivia smiled to herself, turning to close the door. Only then seeing the notes stuck on the panelling. One from Jerry saying, "Gone to the torture chamber. See ya later, Mom, if I survive. Love you. XO Jerry."

Below that note was another note, "See you after school, Mom. Love you. XXXXX Not-a-baby K."

She was taking down the notes, intending to put them away in her keepsake box, when she saw Rowan coming down the hallway with a tray in his hands.

"Dad, I just woke up."

"You want me to come back?" Rowan paused.

"I meant this is really good timing."

Rowan hesitated then said, "I knew when those mongrels went running past that you were awake."

"I'm not feeling nauseous today."

"Have you changed your mind about the tea?"

"No." Olivia forced a smile as she walked back into the sitting room of the main suite.

They sat on opposite couches in silence, Olivia drinking tea and Rowan watching her. Just when she felt the urge to speak, Rowan said abruptly, "You heard about that kid who got shot?"

Olivia froze, cup midway to her lips.

Softening his tone, Rowan added, "It's another death by police. A cop shot a kid, walking home from the shops."

Olivia placed the cup back in its saucer. "Another one? How many is that?"

"Too many. This young man who was about to start college next week."

Olivia shook her head, reaching for the remote to turn on the news, then quickly channel hopped shaking her head. "Surprise, surprise the media isn't talking about this – so my guess we're talking about a black kid."

Rowan angled a look at her. "Olivia, you know we're talking about a black kid. White kids get a police escort home. Imagine if the kid was Jerry, even Russia and North Korea would be outraged."

Olivia switched off the television and crossed her arms across her chest. "So you're okay to attend the Housing Committee meeting today?"

Rowan eyed his daughter carefully. "Yes."

"Good."

"Are we playing ostrich, Olivia?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dad."

"You heard about that cop shooting a kid?" Rowan asked Zeke as they waited in the Old Family Dining Room for Olivia to arrive.

"Yeah, that cracker made him kneel on the ground before he shot him. That damned kid had his arms in the air, but that didn't stop him from being dead." Zeke snapped the pencil in his hand.

Cyrus stared at the remains of the broken pencil before shifting his gaze to his own notepad. "By all credible accounts, he robbed a convenience store."

"That lie came straight out of that cracker's precinct. Gotta justify the killin' of another black kid by making him look a criminal. Justifying Police Brutality 101."

"Are you accusing the police of murder? Then lying as a cover up?"

"I ain't accusing, I'm telling!"

The Secretary for Housing and Urban Development sat forward. "We don't know all the facts yet. All we have are a couple of eyewitness accounts. "

"Yeah," agreed the senior staffer from Office of Management and Budget. "From the dead kid's friends."

"They were quick to accuse a cop of wrongdoing. You know how that works – blame the accuser to muddy the waters," added the executive from General Services Administration.

"Therefore, the friends are guilty of lying to distract our attention away from their culpability in a crime?" Rowan gave his widest Grinch smile. "Are you perhaps confusing current events with history when those white men killed Emmett Till and walked free?"

There was a silence, which was only broken when Olivia walked into the room and the men stood up noisily pushing back their chairs.

Olivia paused, eyeing each one of their faces warily. "Everything okay in here?"

There were mutterings of agreement and they all sat down again.

"You aren't black, Pete. The police won't be targeting you. It's Mom, Ella, my little baby sis or bro that I need to worry about."

"Yeah, tell that to the 84-year Chinese grandpa dude who got bashed by cops in New York for jaywalking in January. Those dogs are targeting all people of colour. Only white people are safe."

"Okay, so next time you see a cop run."

"Where to? They shoot you in the back if you run. They shoot you in the chest if you stand your ground. Basically you end up dead either way, man."

Olivia paused outside Jerry's room, hearing voices even though it was way past his bedtime. After a brief knock, she opened the door and poked her head through the opening. "Lights out, Jer. This is a school night."

Jerry shifted sideways so Olivia could see his computer screen. "Mom, Pete says 'hi'."

Olivia walked up and smiled at Peter waving at her by video. "'Hi, Pete and goodnight to you too'."

"Aw, Mom," Jerry griped as Pete immediately disappeared off the screen. "We were just talking about what was going on in Faraway County. About that kid getting shot for walking while black."

"Bedtime, Jer."

"Mom, he was just a kid. And he was going to college next week. Now he's dead. All because of the colour of his skin. That's not right."

"No, it isn't but there's not a lot you and I can do about it right now. So I need you to shut your computer and get some sleep because I don't want to have another conversation with your principle about why you're falling asleep in math class."

"It's boring. Why do I need algebra – it's not like I'll need it after I leave school. Like I don't see you and Dad using algebra ever."

"We use algebra all the time. We just don't talk about it because it's highly confidential."

Jerry grinned. "Good one, Mom."

"Goodnight. Jer. If you're not in bed by the time I count to three I'm going to switch the power off at the wall socket."

"That's so lame."

"One…two…"

"Jeeez, all right, all right. I'm going."

Jerry switched off the computer and crawled into bed, then grinned at her with Fitz's smile that took Olivia's breath away.

"What?"

"You look like your father."

Jerry pushed back the covers and loped over to gather Olivia in a tight hug. "Dad'll be home soon. " He buzzed a loud kiss on her cheek and then made her chuckle when he added, "You've got to admit, though, I'm better looking."

DAY THREE…

"Miss me?"

"Lots. And the kids miss you too. How's Mimi?"

"She's a good listener. Doesn't object to a single thing I say."

Olivia laughed. "I need to talk to that girl. She's very bad for your ego,"

Fitz rumbled a sigh. "I miss your laugh."

"Only my laugh?"

He gave a soft chuckle that sent a ripple of warmth over her. "When I get back, let's spend a weekend in Vermont, just you, me and the kids."

"And the dogs and the Secret Service."

"Yeah, one big happy family."

Olivia chuckled. "Okay."

"Just okay? No backchat? You've started channelling Mimi." He finished on a yawn.

Smiling, she said softly, "Goodnight, baby."

"Good morning, Livvie."

Morning Talk Show…

"Today the White House released details of First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant's plans to turn vacant Federal buildings in downtown DC into homeless shelters."

"Bet that put her on the Business Council's Christmas wish list."

"You're right, they aren't happy about it. They say they'll start losing business when their clients get harassed by drunk vagrants."

"Worse, they think Ms Pope-Grant will get the District rezoned and property prices will nosedive as a result."

"Well, she's not backing down from her plans."

"You got that right. When Mrs Pope-Grant was asked what she thought about the Business Council's concerns, this is what she had to say: "We're talking about the men and women who fought for our freedom. Veterans who are now sleeping on the street. Is the Business Council of DC saying these veterans are good enough to die fighting for our freedom, but they aren't good enough to live in our neighbourhoods?"

"Bet that shut them up."

"Yeah, but not for long..."

That afternoon while Olivia was lounging on the sofa with her feet up, she got a call from Fitz.

"Are you resting after taking on BCDC?"

Olivia laughed. "Hmm, that sounds scary."

"They are scary, Livvie, you need to be careful about how you handle them."

"Right now all I'm handling is a plate of monster cookies resting on my baby bump. There'll be a lot more of me to hold on to when you get back."

Fitz gusted a laugh. "I love the sound of that."

Olivia's response was cut short, when her assistant interrupted with a knock. "Ma'am, the Mayor wants to talk to you."

"Tell him I'm busy," Olivia took another bite of a cookie.

"What's going on?" Fitz asked over the phone.

"The Mayor wants to talk to me. But I can't coz' I'm busy talking to the President."

He chuckled. "Glad you've got your priorities right."

"Blame it my baby brain."

"Hey!" He laughed. Just as Olivia's assistant re-appeared with another knock. "Ma'am, he won't get off the phone. Says he really needs to talk to you because the Business Council has been at him all morning."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I've got to go, Fitz. The Mayor is being persistent."

"Persist right back, but be careful. I love you."

"I love you too."

After speaking to the Mayor, Olivia took out her private phone and made a call. "I've got job for you guys."

"Ooh, another super–secret-we-can't-reveal-to-anyone–on-pain-of-death type job?" Quinn hissed loudly in Olivia's ear.

"Yes."

"I love those! So what's the job?"

"I've got names. I need anything you can find on them."

"Dirt?"

"Dirtier the better."

"Dirt?!" A voice called in the background, then there was a sound of a scuffle and Abby's voice came on the line, "What's this I heard about dirt?"

Olivia briefly repeated her requirements for the names in question.

"So the usual drugs, hookers, bodies in the basement stuff?"

"I was thinking more like Swiss bank accounts and undeclared income on the 1040."

Abby sighed. "Oh, boring white collar tax evasion again. When do you want all this by?"

"Tomorrow. A.M."

"I better get Huck and Oscar off their current addiction."

"What's that? Warcraft?"

"Yeah, in real-life suburbia. They're rolling tanks into Small Town America, turning the whole place into a war zone because a kid got shot. Go figure."

DAY FOUR…

Olivia stared at her watch. Cyrus and Zeke were late. They'd planned to have a mini-briefing before the DC Mayor and Business Council representatives arrived. That had been 10 minutes ago.

Olivia headed down to the West Wing. Finding Cyrus' office empty, she turned direction when the sound of yelling drew her to Zeke's office next door.

"They've got tanks! What the fuck, man! Faraway County isn't downtown Fallujah – we don't need the army going down there attacking civilians!"

"They aren't attacking civilians, they are keeping the peace!"

"Whose peace?! White man's peace?!"

"Why does this always boil down to race with you?! Not everything is about race!"

"A white cop shoots a black kid and you're telling me it's not about race?!"

"The key words here are cop and kid – possibly a delinquent."

"Fuck you!"

"Hey!" Olivia opened the door and walked in to find Cyrus and Zeke glaring at each other, their noses a breath apart. "What's going on?"

Both men stepped away, looking slightly sheepish. Cyrus was the first to speak. "We were just talking about this morning's security briefing."

"Yeah, but we hadn't got to the part where the police were lobbing teargas at unarmed civilians."

"Or the rioting and the vandalism!" Cyrus spat.

Olivia held up her hands. "You both need to chill. This conversation is not good for your heart condition, Cyrus."

'This ain't no time to chill," Zeke shook his head. "When you've got the Law breaking the Law then it's time to step in and make some noise. The White House needs to issue a statement. We need to get the FBI onto this."

Cyrus glowered at Zeke. "We are not issuing a statement over a storm in a teacup! This whole thing will blow over in a couple of days when another celebrity flashes her boobs and the media's attention deficit takes on that hot topic."

"The mainstream media isn't covering Faraway County; Social Media is. They ain't talking about the tanks, the cops in riot gear or the tear gas. They ain't talking about all that weaponry being targeted at a bunch of unarmed civilians, carrying protest signs. They ain't talking. So we need to."

Cyrus looked at Zeke wearily and sat down. "There's one elephant in this room that we don't talk about."

"The Republican Party?"

"No, race! Ever since Fitz went public about Olivia and then installed you as his deputy – the rabid Right-wing media has gone nuts about race! Fitz needs to be race neutral in the way he responds to social issues. Like the time Harvard University Professor Henry Louis Gates was mistakenly arrested in front of his home by a Massachusetts police officer investigating a neighbourhood break-in. Or when that other kid Trayvon Martin was shot in Florida by a Hispanic security guard; Fitz had to keep right out of those conversations. Do you know why? Let me tell you why – because if he mentions race, he knows he won't be the one catching flack. No, the bigots would be out in droves attacking Olivia. I've had to double the security budget because of all the hate mail we've been getting lately. "

"I didn't know that," Olivia sat down in the couch nearest the door.

"Fitz doesn't want you to know. He's sworn Tom to secrecy so he won't reveal the magnitude of the hatred that's out there for you, and for himself since he married you."

Zeke tapped his walking stick on the carpet. "So what you're saying is that we have to keep our eyes down and our mouths shut to avoid a media lynching? While black kids get shot by white cops walking down the street?"

Olivia got to her feet before Cyrus could open his mouth. "Zeke, stop. We can't rush into this and make the situation worse. Let me speak to Fitz. I'll talk to him tonight. With an election coming up and no party to back him up, we can't jeopardise what little chance he has of winning another term."

"We're not going to win a second term," Cyrus said tiredly, "There are too many odds against us."

Olivia quelled a flash of irritation as she turned towards the door. "I just came to remind you both about our little meeting with the Mayor and his cronies."

"Yeah, I nearly forgot about that." Zeke stepped forward.

"Yeah, me too," Cyrus scrambled to his feet, straightening his tie.

Olivia glanced from one to the other wryly, and shook her head. "You guys need a breather. Let me handle this. I'll send for help if I need it."

Olivia walked into the Yellow Oval Room just as one of her assistants walked out. "Ma'am I put the box that arrived on the French table behind the couch as you requested."

"Perfect," Olivia smiled, just as another staffer hurried up to advise that her visitors were on their way, escorted by Olivia's chief-of-staff.

The men bustled in, genial and happy, with a token woman in their midst brightening the dark suits with in all-white ensemble.

"Bill couldn't make it. So we got Kelly to tag along since she's wearing Olivia Pope white – heard that was your colour of choice back in the day when you were a professional business woman," one of the men joked.

Olivia gave a bland smile. "Oh, my wardrobe is a lot more diverse than you think, but I like the suit, Kelly. Who's the designer?"

Before Kelly could answer, the Mayor cut in, "Are we waiting on Cyrus and the new VP?"

"They have another emergency to deal with, so I'll be taking this meeting with my trusted aides," Olivia introduced her assistant and chief-of-staff.

Smiles appeared on the faces of the men and stayed, as they settled on the couches and stretched their legs.

From the start, it was clear that the Mayor and his business buddies had arrived with one thing in mind – to humour Olivia.

"…You've got to understand, housing the homeless is a noble cause but it's not a long-term fix. Turning the CBD into a vagrant zone isn't going to fix the problem."

"This sure smells like socialism to me. That's a sure fire way of letting the Commies in. They'll be running the state before we can say shoot."

"Now. Now let's not mention that 'C-word' in the house that Capitalism built. I'm all for feeding the hungry and sheltering the poor – those are good Christian values," the Mayor chimed in, but was immediately cut off by a volley of protests.

"Hey, I'm a Christian who believes that 'God helps those who help themselves'. If they ain't helping themselves and God ain't helping, I don't see why I should have to!"

"The American dream is built on the blood, sweat and tears of our pioneers– pioneers who didn't stand in line for a handout!"

"Look, I'm all for charity but dammit, there isn't enough fish and loaves to go around! We need to wait for the second coming for that kind of miracle!"

Olivia held up her hands. "Okay, I get what you're saying. But here's where I'm coming from: the reports on the coffee table are from the Office of Management and Budget and the General Services Administration. The documents contain information about the 77,000 vacant Federal buildings across the country, which cost tax-payers $1.7 billion a year. Turning them into homeless shelters would be a better way to spend tax revenue."

"Those buildings should be sold or leased to private developers. That would be the better investment, one that would keep everyone happy," the Mayor inserted.

"Everyone except the homeless," Olivia said.

"Look," One of the suits responded, "We understand you have a personal stake in all this, with your dad and stepson staging a media stunt about this issue. They've forced your hand and you've got to be seen to be doing something, but there's a lot more at stake than idealism here."

"Yes," added another, "The Administration has a bad habit of throwing good money after bad and this is another example of tax dollars going down the crapper."

"Would you like the confidential files handed out now, ma'am," her assistant murmured, leaning towards Olivia.

She nodded, then watched as secured folders were taken out of the box on the antique table and given to each Business Council representative after confirming their names. "The folders contain offers based on your individual circumstances. It's confidential information; even my staff here don't know what's inside. The contents are intended to help you understand what I hope to achieve." Olivia's gaze swept over the group. "Do you need a moment to read through the documents?"

As soon as the folders had been handed over, the businessmen – save for Kelly, the last minute stand-in, and the Mayor – had peeked inside only to gape, flush or pale at the contents before hastily shutting the folder.

Now, taking in their gimlet-eyed silence, Olivia said blandly, "Why don't we give you a moment to consider your positions." Then she ushered her team out of the room.

"How did your meeting go?" Cyrus stopped by her office later that afternoon.

"Better than I expected. I've got several corporate sponsorship offers for the project."

Cyrus stared at her solemnly. "The Mayor called. He wanted to know what you put in those folders because the fire-breathing outrage got snuffed like a candle when they got a peek at what was inside."

"It's confidential, Cyrus."

"I'm guessing your associates are involved in this."

Olivia smiled sweetly. "I've quit that job, remember. Now I'm just a full-time wife and mother."

Cyrus barked out a laugh. "That will be the day!" He got to his feet. "FYI, the Mayor was impressed. And a little scared."

"I'm flattered," Olivia murmured reaching for the ringing phone.

"Hi," she smiled as the door closed behind Cyrus.

Fitz snuffled a laugh. "The Mayor sent me an email. Said you wiped the floor with the Big Dicks."

"Fitz!"

"Hey, that's I'm just quoting the Mayor. What happened?"

"We-ell I don't want to brag…"

Fitz chuckled. "What was in the files?"

"I can't tell you."

"Livvie, we're married, what you tell me is confidential because of spousal privilege."

"That a moot point when the NSA is listening to this conversation."

"This line is secure."

"Not even the teenage hackers listening to you believe that."

Fitz gusted a sigh. "Liv…"

"Faraway County, Fitz."

"What?"

"We need to talk about what's happening in Faraway County."

"I heard about that kid," The cajoling note had left his voice. "Gang violence is getting out of hand."

"It wasn't gang violence. A cop shot the kid."

"Was he resisting arrest?"

"No, he wasn't resisting arrest. He was kneeling on the ground when he was shot in the head. And then he was shot twice as he lay there dying. I saw the Medical Examiner's report, Huck got me a copy."

"Liv, I'll get the Attorney General to look into it."

"And then what?"

"Then we'll take the appropriate action based on what we find."

"They are bringing tanks into town. You don't want to end up with another Kent State on your hands."

"Leave this to me."

"While my people are getting killed?"

"Your people, Livvie?"

"My people, Fitz. The ones getting killed for the colour of their skin. They are being killed by men in hoods hiding behind a cop uniform. That FBI investigation into Fruitland Park, Florida is proof of that. Those two cops with hate-group affiliations could just be the tip of the iceberg."

"Fuck!"

"What?!"

"You've got a plan and I'm not going to like it."

That made her smile despite her exasperation with him.

"What are you going to do, Liv?"

"I'd tell you but the NSA is listening."

DAY FIVE…

The truth was Olivia didn't have a plan, but she desperately needed one.

She was busy considering her options when she came down to breakfast to find Jerry at the table with Rowan and Felicia.

"Where's Karen?"

"In her room," Rowan said buttering his toast.

"Under the covers," Jerry mumbled while slurping a mouthful of cereal.

"She wants to be alone," Felicia added, reaching for the jam.

"Why?"

There was an exchange of glances and a series of non-committal shrugs.

"Right." Olivia marched back down the hallway and knocked on Karen's door.

"Go away! I want to be alone!"

Surprised at the tone, Olivia opened the door, "Karen?"

Hearing no response, Olivia entered the room and approached the lump in the middle of the bed. "K, what's wrong?"

Again silence, so Olivia pulled back the covers, to find Karen lying there with her eyes squeezed shut, hugging her purple dragon.

"Baby K, what's going on? You'll be late for school."

Karen turned away, holding onto her dragon even more tightly. "I'm not going to school."

Olivia sat down carefully, reaching out to stroke a hand over Karen's tangled hair. "Did you have a fight with that boy?"

Karen cast a confused look over her shoulder. "What boy?"

"Jerry's friend."

Karen turned away again. "No."

"Is it Pete?"

Karen shook her head.

"Then what's wrong."

"The kids in school say we're going to have a war. In Faraway County."

Olivia's raised a brow. "What do you know about Faraway County?"

"A policeman shot a boy and they're bringing guns and tanks to scare people who are angry about what happened."

Olivia sighed. "We're not going to have a war, K."

Karen sat up, releasing her stranglehold on the dragon. "They've got tanks and policemen in gasmasks and shields in Faraway County. It's like when Dad was locked up and you went to New Mexico to rescue him."

"It's not going to be like that, Baby K. We won't let it."

Karen looked at Olivia sadly. "Mom, I'm not a kid. I'm eight and I'll be nine soon. I know you can't fix this. No one can because it's been happening for years and years and years."

Olivia felt a sudden rush of hopelessness, mirroring the look on her daughter's face. Then she took a deep breath and smiled. "Have you heard of Ruby Bridges?"

Karen shook her head.

Olivia held out her arm to tuck Karen against her side. "Ruby Bridges was a little girl, a little younger than you—"

"How much younger?"

"She was six… and she was the first black kid to go to William Frantz Elementary School in New Orleans. You know what was special about that school – up until the day Ruby walked through the doors, it had been an all-white school," Olivia looked down at Karen's solemn face. "And a lot of people – parents, kids, townspeople – were unhappy to see her there, so she had to go to school with US Marshalls protecting her."

"A bit like me with the Secret Service following me around because I'm Dad's kid… only Ruby needed protection because she was black."

Olivia nodded, "But you know what – there were white families who wanted Ruby there, who kept their kids in that school after Ruby went there. They would watch out for her, walk behind her and the Marshalls to show their support. And if you had been around then, I know you would have been her friend."

Karen nodded, her face fiercely earnest. "I would, Mom. I really would."

"I know, baby. And you need to know that every day there's a new Ruby who has to go to a new school where she doesn't have friends because she's looks different, talks differently or likes different things. Every time you make friends with girls like Ruby we fix the problem bit-by-bit, even it takes years and years to do it."

Karen stared Olivia for a long moment, then stared down at their clasped hands, "So you want me to find a new Ruby and make friends with her?"

"You don't have to, but it would be nice if you did – at least with one new Ruby. Think you can do that?"

Karen nodded, then sighed. "I'll be late at school."

"I'll write a note to the Principal. I'll let her know you were helping me with a very important mission."

Karen smiled and reached up to kiss Olivia's cheek. "Thanks, Mom."

When Olivia came carrying Teddy into James' office for their daily playdate, he turned away from the big screen television on the wall and rushed forward to take Teddy from her arms.

"What are you doing carrying him? Where's Marta?" He asked by way of a greeting.

"She's cleaning the mess Teddy made with his cereal – believe me, I have the easier job here."

Then as James placed Teddy in the play-yard with Ella, Olivia's gaze swept to the TV.

"Can you believe what's going on in Faraway County?" James asked, joining her as she sat perched on the edge of his desk.

"Everyone's talking about Faraway County now that they can report on people breaking into shops and throwing Molotov cocktails at police."

"The situation escalated after a police dog urinated on a street memorial. Then the tanks rolled up and crushed it completely. It made some people justifiably mad. But that's not the core issue."

"No, the core issue is that they still haven't arrested the officer who shot that kid."

"That's why the people are going down in droves to protest taking us back to the civil rights movement in the Sixties. What concerns me even more is the way the police are escalating the situation, firing rubber bullets at peaceful protestors. They even fired on a state senator. They've been caught on tape yelling racial slurs at civilians and threatening to shoot journalists who get in their face. It's an absolute disgrace."

James turned to Olivia. "The White House needs to say something."

"Cyrus thinks that will make the situation worse."

"Cyrus is good at denial. He lived a lie about being gay most of his life. Now he thinks he can pretend he isn't the white father of a black child because he wants Ella to grow up in a colour-blind world. He may be blind to Ella's colour but the rest of the world will not be."

"Is that why you've started putting Ella's hair in Afro braids?"

"Do you know how difficult they are to do? It takes me like an hour every morning. But it's worth it – Ella loves them."

"They're cute. I might need lessons if this little bub turns out to be a girl."

James grinned. "I'll be an expert by then."

Olivia chuckled, then turned her attention to the TV again. "So what are we going to do about Ferguson?"

"You're still a private citizen, Olivia. And a mother."

An Evening Show…

"…In the news today, Mrs Olivia Pope-Grant causes a media shitstorm by releasing a video statement on Faraway County. The First Lady has kept a low profile since President Grant was released 'from psychiatric evaluation' aka the FBI-hippy retreat down in New Mexico. (Laughter at pictures of Fitzgerald Grant with a beard). Her comments this afternoon have shocked Capitol Hill where the President's second wife is known for being a politically savvy fixer adept at avoiding controversy. The White House Press Secretary was quick to point out that the First Lady was speaking as a concerned private citizen and mother, not on behalf of the Grant Administration. And we know that 'baby brain' is a medically-recognised condition (more laughter as pictures of Kim Kadarshian at the 2014 Met Ball came on screen). So what has our esteemed Olivia done to get everyone's knickers in a twist? Well, this:

[First Lady Olivia-Pope Grant speaking:] '…I have followed the events in Faraway County this week, and what I've seen concerns me. It concerns me that a child walking home from the store was shot and killed in a peaceful neighbourhood. It concerns me that a community expressing their outrage through peaceful street protests is being tear-gassed and fired on with rubber bullets. It concerns me that all this is being done to uphold law and order in a country at peace.

'…As a mother, I want my children to live in a country where they feel safe. I want them to feel safe in the hands of the people sworn to protect us – all of us, irrespective of colour, gender, sexual orientation or ability.

"…As a mother, I want each of my children to know their safety is important, their lives are important, and if something happens to their safety or their lives, then justice is important.

'In the words of Dr Martin Luther King Jr, 'Without justice, there can be no peace'. For peace to happen in Faraway County, it's imperative that justice is done before the situation escalates out of control…'

No guesses as to what the First Lady was alluding to – she's clearly calling for the arrest of the 28-year-old policeman who shot an 18-year-old unarmed kid in Faraway County…

"I told you to STAY AWAY from fucking HATE GROUPS and you take on the fucking POLICE?!"

Olivia held the phone away from her ear. "Fitz…"

"Don't Fitz me! You are to stay inside the White House until I get home!"

"What?! Are you grounding me?"

"YES!"

"You cannot ground me!"

"Yes, I can!"

"No! You cannot!" Olivia shouted. Then feeling an unsettling in her stomach, she paused, taking a deep breath, before adding calmly. "I can't talk to you right now. The baby is getting upset." And she hung up the phone and refused to answer when it rang again almost instantly.

Ten minutes later, Cyrus walked into her office, holding out his cellphone. "The President."

Olivia rolled her eyes and took the cell. "I am not staying in the White House until you get back."

"Uh… I'll be outside." Cyrus was already out the door before Fitz responded evenly, "I asked you not to fix anything dangerous while I was gone. Instead of one thing, you try and fix ten. Why can't you do as you're told?"

"Excuse me?!"

He rumbled a noisy sigh. "That came out wrong."

"No, it came out right. I'm not your property that you can order around."

"Don't start that again. Not now."

Olivia pulled the phone away from her ear and thought about smashing it to pieces. Instead she took another deep breath, before saying slowly, enunciating each word with bite. "Don't start with what again?"

There was a long silence, then Fitz said softly, "It would kill me if anything happened to you."

"Don't avoid the question."

"It would kill me, Livvie," he repeated.

Olivia closed her eyes, picturing his face at that moment, pained and hurting. "I'm not a child, you can't ground me."

"I can try," he grumbled.

"No, you can't." She smiled.

"You're smiling."

"No, I'm not." Her smile widened.

"I need you to be safe. Promise me you'll stay safe."

"I promise."

"So you'll stay put."

"No."

"Olivia."

"Fitz, do you realise how many ways vested interests have found to keep our democracy silent? By manipulating fears based on ignorance and prejudice?" Olivia sighed, "Do you ever stop to think how we got here? And how long we're going to stand by and keep letting this continue?"

"You can't fix two hundred years of history, Livvie."

Olivia gave a rueful smile, hearing him echo Karen's words. Then closed her eyes as she heard him continue softly, "It's like those messy balls of wool my gran had. She refused to waste time trying to unravel them because that wouldn't leave her any time to knit… Sometimes you just have to leave the past behind and move on, Livvie."

"My mother always unravelled her wool, and she got me to help her. That's when I realised I liked solving problems, Fitz, even if the problem I was trying to fix was only a tangled ball of wool."

Fitz groaned. "Livvie…"

"Fitz, we're equal partners in this marriage, so you have to support me even when you don't agree with what I'm doing."

"Liv, I can't do that, not when this concerns your safety."

Olivia was silent. Then she said softly, "…Goodnight, Mr President."

A/N: So sincere apologies to the three readers missed my story – Clio1792, Marylinj (who I'm thinking is the third one too! :P) and an anonymous 'guest' who wondered if I'd found my 'Fitz' who was keeping me from writing. ;D

That was really cute. So have I found a 'Leader of the Free World' to explore 'the secrets of my universe'? The short answer is no (picture Grumpy Cat here).

To tell you the truth, it's not Fitz that inspires this story but Tony-playing-Fitz (and his evident adoration of Kerry) who has managed to escape Shonda-Kill-Cupid-Scissorhands.. To anyone who wants to remind me that both are married to other people – let me share my aunt's words of encouragement to stubbornly single females: 'marriage is a misery we must all suffer'. Those unions illustrate her premise, as does Fitz's marriage to Mellie.

Now where was I? Oh, yes, the long drought was not just due to my usual inability to juggle work, assignments and Tumblr well, but Ferguson really. I was debating whether to include it, or ignore it like I did with the Palestinian atrocities because there was just too much awfulness to write about in a couple of sentences (how I usually include international happenings). But since race politics is already part of this story, Ferguson inspired 'Faraway County'.

By a strange coincidence the minute I finished writing about Ruby Bridges – I saw a Tumblr post about her and figured that was a sign I was on the right/write track. (Yes, I am superstitious that way– Thu! Thu! Spitting to banish evil). And I want to share an insightful quote from Ruby that I found on Wikipedia:

"Racism is a grown-up disease and we must stop using our children to spread it" – Ruby Bridges.

BTW, I have to thank numerous Tumblr-writers for inspiring this chapter, your conversations drove this narrative, and my encouraging readers (if not for your guilt trips I would still be procrastinating – looking at llama selfies, muddy dogs and cute kittens- hehe).

Other bits of misappropriated info that I found interesting:

UBS tax evasion controversy (X)

Government's Empty Buildings Are Costing Taxpayers Billions (X)

How Fox News silenced Obama on race (X)

Hacker High: 10 Stories of Teenage Hackers Getting into the System (X)

Hate Groups Have Infiltrated America's Police Departments (X)

No police screening for KKK, hate group membership, Florida case shows (X)

Ruby Bridges (X)

2014 Ferguson unrest (X)

84yo Chinese man beaten by NYPD for jaywalking; language barriers blamed (X)