AN: I hope you guys liked the last chapter along with this one. I am changing the direction of the story a bit and in the next chapter, there will be a big time jump! As for now, this chapter has Olitz in it! And let me know what you think. Btw, there's a few suicidal references in this, just so you know if that's something sensitive to you.

Fitz's POV

"Grant," the warden won't look me in the eye through the thick file of paperwork on his clipboard. I'm waiting for him to say it. To say that Karen or Mellie are dead. I have never been called to the warden before and I think that they don't do that lightly. I haven't been to the Rec Room ever since I saw that thing with Asher, so if there's any developments to the case, such as my wife or daughter dying, I have no idea. At this point, I am just sitting here in the uncomfortable chair waiting for the bad news. "Do you know why I called you down this evening?"

"No, sir," I admit and brace myself for the bomb.

But he just looks up from the paperwork and stares at me. "Ah. Well, you see here, Grant, the correctional officers have been expressing some concerns about you. Do you know anything about that?"

I shrug. I don't care.

"I see," the warden takes off his thin framed glasses and sets them down on the desk between us. He puts his clipboard on his lap. "The fact is, Grant, you're not eating, you're not socializing with other inmates and you're not...well, you're not doing anything, to be frank."

I don't say anything.

The warden catches my drift and nods slowly. He reaches down from his chair and from a compartment in his desk, pulls out a folded beige jumper. "Well, this is for you. Congratulations are in order, I guess."

I take the jumper from him and set it on my lap. "Thank you. Is that all, sir?"

The warden gives me a long stare before taking a breath. "Looking through your notes, I see that you've only been allowed no-contact visitation. And since your time here has been relatively conflict free, I don't see why that is. So, you're allowed contact visitation as of this point."

As if I will ever use it. I don't even have visitors anymore.

"Am I dismissed?"

"Go on," the warden puts his glasses back on, giving up. "Have a nice night. Stay out of trouble, Grant."

"Yes, sir."

X

"So you finally upgraded to beige?"

I turn around in my bed, stunned. Looking up, I see Low, with his face actually out of his journal and looking at me. I'm at a loss for words.

"I talk, you know," he smiles slightly when he notices my baffled expression. "I'm not crazy."

"I n-never, d-...I-" i stutter but he holds up his hand, silencing me. I am in disbelief. Low can actually talk? Like a normal person?

"I know what they say about me," he sits upright on his bed. It's early in the morning and he's referring to Ace and BG, who are already out and about to breakfast or God knows where. "I'm not an idiot. You don't need to be scared of me."

I swing my legs up and sit, so I am facing him. "I'm not scared of you." I lie.

He smirks and shakes his head. I can't believe how normal he seems. Maybe he's just gonna beat me up. Realistically, I could snap him like a twig in about two seconds. He looks like he weighs no more than ninety pounds, compared to my one hundred and ninety. But I literally don't care anymore. Anyway who goes out of their way to kill me is considered my guardian angel at this point. I am pathetic. I deserve to die. I want to die.

"A lot of people are scared of me," he goes on. "They think I am some mentally crazed killer. That's why they stay away from me."

I can't help but laugh. "I know what that's like."

"Did you?" Low asks seriously. "Shoot your family, I mean. They all think you did. Even I hear the things they say about you. They would kill you if they had the chance. So that's why you stay in here, right?"

"Spot on," I get out from my bed and jump to the bunk above it, so I am level with Low, whose directly opposite of me. "Except I didn't shoot my family. Someone framed me."

"That's rough," Low nods sympathetically, leaning back on his mattress. He brings his journal up to his chest. I wonder what he actually did to land in here. He looks really young, actually. No older than thirty.

"You keep a diary," I nod at the journal, shifting in my jumper. It feels so comfortable in me, which is not a good thing, I know. It makes me wonder if I'm actually meant to be in prison. If it's my destiny.

"No," Low shakes his head. "They don't actually let me use pencils in here. They banned them eight years ago. So I just reread entries from back then."

Eight years? He's been here that long? I know very well that I will stay much longer if I am convicted. Better get used to the idea.

"What did you write about?"

"Problems in here," he tells me, skimming his eyes through pages. "The COs, man. They'll fuck you up. They're worse than the inmates."

I think back to that night when the CO left me for dead in the bathroom.

'Fitzgerald Grant,' I look around to see where the calling is coming from and then I realize it's over the PA system. 'Fitzgerald Grant to contact visitation.'

I have a visitor? It's David. I know it's David. Ever since I got arrested the first time, I have only ever had two visitors - Livvy and David. And Livvy is gone. I know she's gone - David doesn't have to tell me. And even if I try, I can't be mad at her for that. I am happy for her - she got herself out of this bad situation. She is doing it for herself. I am proud of her. I'm so proud. And even though my life is shitty, I am so happy for her. Even at the expense of my freedom.

I say goodbye to Low before wearily walking down and out of the cell. I leave the Cell Block and I am happy to see most people are at breakfast. Still, I get a couple of threatening glances in the halls, closely monitored by CO's. I just try to keep my head down to make my way to see David.

I enter the main hall, where I step into the visitation room. It is a lot different than what I have gotten used to. For starters, there are a lot more people. Kids, too, some as little as toddlers. I wonder if sometime in the future I may see Karen here. Anyway, it's larger, more sunny and bright. It's loud to, but everyone kind of silences when they see me come in wearily. They all know my case, my story. They all know me. A CO points me to a table and I look over.

And there she is.

X

"You shouldn't be here," I approach the table without sitting down. As crazy as it is to see her again, I really shouldn't be. She should be in DC by now, happily living her life without burdens. Without me.

She stands up and crosses her arms. She looks beautiful - as always. She's in jeans, though. I can't believe I'm seeing Olivia Pope in jeans. They're nice jeans - black and tight, fitting her well. Still, they're jeans and I didn't think Livvy ever wore them. With the jeans she has on a white sleeveless silk blouse. She looks so wonderful. I am in awe every time I see her.

"We're allowed two hugs," she clears her throat. "Don't waste it."

I can't move. I'm in shock. I didn't think I would ever see her again. She realizes that I am too taken aback to hug her, so she walks over and wraps her arms around my waist. I reluctantly hug her back. It's so...miraculous seeing her here. But I shouldn't be. I seriously shouldn't be.

After a minute, she pulls away and sits down at the table, gesturing me to do the same. I hesitate before actually doing so. She begins to speak, folding her arms on the metal table. "It's good to see you. I missed you. You're in beige, I see."

I turn away.

"I understand that you're mad at me," she inhales. "And I am sorry for having to leave. But-"

"That's not why I'm mad at you," I interrupt her, finding the dignity to look her in the eyes. "I'm mad because you should be gone. Away from this. All this stress, this frustration. I am never getting acquitted and that is not your fault, Livvy. You should be... away."

She stares at me. After a moment, she clears her throat and asks coldly, "Would that make it easier for you?"

"Yes," I tell her firmly. "I want you to be...happy."

"I could say the same thing for you," she tells me. I close my eyes. Ugh. David probably told her. He seems like a nice guy but I don't think I can trust him with stuff like that. I never wanted him to tell Livvy. To get her worried for no reason.

"So that's why you're here." I open my eyes. "David told you."

She shifts in her seat. "Yes, he did."

"I was not myself that day," I lie, feeling frustrated. Why did he have to go and be a snitch? "I...lied to David. Completely."

"You're not a liar, Fitz," she says matter of factly, like she has known me my whole life. In some ways, I feel like she has. "I want to help you. I'm not your lawyer anymore and for that, I am sorry. But when you get out of here, because you will get out of here, I need you to be ready to get your life back."

I scoff. "What life? There's nothing left for me."

"That's not true and you know it," Livvy practically yells at me. A "You have a beautiful daughter and a...smart wife waiting for you. Waiting for you to fight. We'll get you all the help you need, Fitz. Whether you want a public defender or you want to defend yourself, whatever. Just tell us. Communicate."

I turn away, folding my arms. I don't want to worry her but if she won't get off my ass, I have no choice but to tell her the truth. Olivia, although irresistible, can be inevitably annoying. "Fine. I'll tell you what I want. My son is dead. I want to die."

"Fitz," I hear her saying my name, but I close my eyes. Try to block her out. I feel her hand on my face, despite the no touching regulations, besides the hugs. "Fitz, look at me."

But I can't. If I open my eyes, she'll see the tears. She's already had to deal with so many. "Leave me alone, Livvy."

"I can't," she replies and I can hear the truth in her voice. Along with pain. It's easy to recognize when you feel so much yourself. "I love you, Fitz."

I open my eyes, the tears free falling. I don't care. "You don't love me. We've known each other for a week. You don't even know me."

She swallows. She's crying too. How can so much affection come from so much pain? She wipes a tear from my cheek. "Maybe you're right. I don't know you. But I love you. I do."

I shake my head. It's not what I want to hear from her. I want her to yell at me, tell me that she's going to DC and not looking back. But that's not Livvy. She has to be too involved, she has to care too much. "Stop saying that."

"I can't," she whispers. "I love you and I know you're hurting and I want to protect you. I know you lost your son...and I know Mellie won't testify...and I know it feels like your world is ending but you're strong, Fitz. You can take it-"

"I'm not strong," I argue. That's the point I've been trying to make all this time. "I am not strong at all. There's this guy in my cell. He's no older than, like, thirty. He's been here for eight years, Livvy. He's been abused by the COs or something, so everyone thought he was crazy. And I actually talked to him this morning. If I'm becoming pals with inmates...maybe I belong here. Maybe I am supposed to stay here forever. Maybe I am not supposed to fight."

She looks at me. I'm sorry to hurt her. I never wanted to do that. But I have to be honest. I'm done with trying. But I know Livvy. She won't accept that. And sure enough, she opens her mouth and objects. "Did you kill your son, Fitz?"

I sigh, knowing where this is going. "Of course not."

"Then you don't belong here," she tells me firmly. I roll my eyes, but she goes on. "There is no justification for an innocent man spending the rest of his days in a jail cell. Your life has worth, you have worth. If you get acquitted, you can be with your family again. We can put this whole thing behind us."

"What if I don't want to?" I demand. Even on the off chance I got acquitted, I know how my days would play out. I would divorce Mellie but she would get Karen, despite my fighting for her. I would be disowned by my family and end up homeless and on the streets within a couple of months, when my inheritance runs out. I would wait a couple of weeks before putting a gun to my head and dying in a state run by Asher Harris. That, and I don't necessarily want to forget these past few days. As horrible as they were, something or rather someone great came out of it. Olivia and I. I wouldn't trade that for...a lot of things. "I don't want to forget us, Livvy. And you make that very hard."

"Why?"

I look up at her. "Because I love you too."

And I do. It feels ridiculous saying it out loud but that's the truth. In midst of all these painful times and hurt, that's the truth. I can't deny it even if I wanted to. It's not the vulnerable position I am in. She never took advantage of me. If I had meant Livvy twelve years ago, when I was happily married to Mellie, I would have still loved her. I look at her, waiting for her reaction. She looks back and finally, our eyes are locked. Did I ever tell you she has beautiful eyes? Brown eyes don't get enough attention. Hers, in particular, are stunning. She reaches into her lap and pulls out her iPhone. She unlocks it and types in a few things. A silent minute later, she faces the screen towards me.

I lean closer and take my eyes off Livvy for a minute, even though that's particularly impossible considering how absolutely gorgeous she is. Some type of video is playing on the phone. It's a news special - a headline pops up and when she turns up the volume, a somber song is playing. 'Funeral of 7 Year Old Gerry Thomas Grant'.

I look up at her, a lump forming in my throat. I try to speak confidently but I can barely choke out a whisper. "What is this?"

"It's a live stream," she explains softly. "They're about fifteen minutes in. I made sure that the funeral was highly publicized so that you could watch it. I thought it would give you closure."

She reaches over and gently intertwines her free hand in my own. I don't stop her.

"How did you do that?"

"I know a guy." She shrugs and smiles sadly, as if it's it is something. It's everything. Even if it was easy and not a big deal for her, it's everything to me. I seriously don't want to cry in front her yet again, so I don't open my mouth to speak. I just nod like an idiot. An emotional idiot.

I turn my face back into the screen. The camera pans into a large lawn in the back or in the front of a big, elegant, grey bricked church I have never seen before. There's a lot of people there. It looks really sunny, but from what I can see, a lot of people are wearing fancy, heavy black clothing. There's too many people to see much of anything and there's all swarming to talk to other guests or to find their seats. Unexpectedly, the camera pans to the front of the church, where Mellie is getting out of a black car with the help of a nurse in scrubs. A man pulls out a wheelchair for her and the nurse helps lower her into it. Mellie is wearing a black cardigan under her actual hospital gown. She looks fine and well, but she has that stupid, fake expression on her face. Are you serious? You have to make a big show at your own son's funeral? I wonder where Karen is. Then again, I would be surprised if she did turn up. They wheel Mellie through the church, where on the other side with yellow grass is where the actual funeral is being held.

"We see Melinda Grant being taken into the church right now," the voiceover announces, as if the audience is blind. "Again, folks, we are live right now at the funeral of gubernatorial candidate of California son, seven year old Gerry Thomas Grant. Gerry was allegedly shot by his father, Fitzgerald Grant, who remains in police custody. Kathy, how heartbreaking is this to watch?"

"Very," a female voice chimes in. "Close family and friends gather on this beautiful Southern California day to mourn the loss of Gerry in this private, closed funeral. Melinda Grant kindly gave us the permission to set up a live stream to capture the grief and sorrow today, as well as celebrate the life of a lovely young boy who tragically died just days ago. Melinda, who is recovering from her own almost fatal gunshot wound to the abdomen, found the strength and bravery to show today."

The camera pans back over to the actual funeral, where most people are seated right now. In front of the row of many brown chairs, a small black stage with rows and rows of white flowers is set, with the small, mahogany casket is closed on top. A large picture is set up on the side. It's Gerry, eating a blue raspberry snow cone in front of the ocean. I remember exactly when it was taken - just a few months ago when the weather got really nice and everyone was at the beach. I was actually able to make it that day and another picture taken that day (the kids on a surfboard on the sand) is the screensaver on my iPhone. Gerry looks so adorable in that picture at the funeral right now - his brown hair is flat with saltwater and his big smile is blue from the snow cone. The beach is where Ger was the happiest. I'm so glad they used this picture.

On top of the casket is a huge bouquet of baby blue flowers. Behind the casket is a black electronic screen set up and in cursive white font reads, 'In memory of Gerry Thomas Grant. 2008-2015.' I swallow, stunned. He really went too soon. Suddenly, I don't care about Mellie and her fakeness. I don'T care about my crappy time in prison. I only care about how much I loved Gerry and how I let him down. How much I don't want the same thing for Karen. If only I got to see Gerry one more time...I would give anything for that.

X

Two Months Ago

"Daddy!" Gerry yells, running horizontally across the light, white and blue waves washing up on shore. The water is freezing to me - I don't know how little kids have the willpower to go into the ocean. I prefer a heated pool, like the one in the Governor's mansion my kids are used to when they used to go visit their grandfather. I guess they're too young to remember that. Still, it's our first time out as a family together in a long time. Mellie is only here because our campaign manager insisted that it would be good to the public to see us all together at the beach. I'm just happy to spend some time with my kids, especially after I have been acting cranky towards them ever since I found out about Mellie and Asher.

"I see you," I call back. I nod at Karen, whose slightly shorter than Gerry, following her big brother into the waves in her floral lilac bathing suit. "Watch Karen, okay, buddy? Be careful!"

Gerry obediently takes his younger sister's hand, but waves his other hand at me. "Come to the water, Daddy!"

"I'm fine in the dry, warm sand, thank you very much!" I joke and he grins, showing off a set of blue teeth from the snowcone he just ate. I look around for Mellie, who was sitting next to me on our beach towel just a minute ago. God knows where she went. Probably snuck back into town to see Asher. Whatever. I look back to my beautiful kids, running around, splashing each other playfully in the small waves.

No matter how bad things get with Mellie, my kids always keep me going. Gerry and Karen...they're my reason to live. Mellie and I started really having a bad time after Karen was born. Like, before that there were arguments and stuff but we still cared. But after, there was a bunch of ignoring and avoiding. By the time Karen was two or three, our marriage was stone cold. But that never affected my relationship with my kids. Although they're both very close to me, they're very different from each other.

Gerry is obviously older. He's got dark brown hair and brown eyes. His personality is a lot like mine - he's really smart and charming. He is very loud and outspoken - he's not shy at all. He's sensitive though, deep inside. He's very caring and protective over his sister.

Karen is also a lot like me - both inside and out. She has the same curly very light brown hair that I do - although her's reaches the middle of her back. Her eyes are blue - a lighter shade than mine. She's more shy and quiet than her brother. She gets nervous and doesn't like big crowds, unlike Gerry. She's very smart and sweet but she doesn't express herself the best.

I love them both regardless of anything like I that. I love them and worry about them. Worry about how they'll grow up with such a toxic mother. Mellie doesn't hit them or anything, but she definitely doesn't care about them like a mom should. It hurts to see that, because they're beautiful kids. And they deserve the world.

X

I keep watching the stream. Nothing new happens for a couple of minutes - everyone is just getting seated and settled. The camera flashes back to the front of the church where guests are arriving last minute. A black limo pulls up and I stare intently at the scene. Asher Harris gets out of it. I blink. Asher? At my son's funeral? It makes sense - he was his godfather. I'm not gonna lie - there was a time where I thought Asher set me up. But even though I'm still pissed that Ash threw me under the bus in front of those reporters, I'm out of line to think Asher would hire someone to hurt my family. Even though we have had personal problems, Asher would never do that. I've known the man for half my life. He would never go to such extremes. And if he really did love Mellie, why would he try to kill her?

I look at the rows of guests and see my father amongst them. I know why he's here - it would look bad if he wasn't. He never bonded with Gerry or Karen and they never cared. It just wasn't a good, stereotypical grandfather and grandkids relationship.

After everyone gets settled. A man I never seen before comes up on stage. He must be some type of religious leader or something because he carries a bible in his hands, pressed against his chest.

The camera switches to a medium close up and the man waits a moment before clearing his throat. He opens his bible but keeps his eyes facing the audience. Every respectfully quiets down right away.

"It is with a heavy heart I begin today's service," he begins with a very wise voice. I am not religious at all but I listen up. He seems very genuine and maybe I can find some comfort in his words. "Gerry Thomas Grant was a young, beautiful soul who left this earth too soon for most of our preference. No matter how he left is, let us put all that noise aside today and honor this child's life, as well as say goodbye to a beautiful boy. I would like to start out by reciting Isaiah 57:1-2. 'Good people pass away; the godly often die before their time. But no one seems to care or wonder why. No one seems to understand that God is protecting them from the evil to come. For those who follow godly paths will rest in peace when they die.'"

I turn away from Livvy and the phone. I don't want her to see me cry, because I already am. Not exactly from anger but from a mixture of sadness and acceptance. I have accepted that he's dead and now I really have to try to grieve the right way. He was an amazing young boy and he's not coming back. I have to accept that. I have to cry it out and accept it. And listening to the kind man's words helped me realize that. I need to move on. I need to try and make it out of here so I can protect my daughter - make sure it will never be her in that casket.

The funeral is beautiful. Gerry deserved it. He deserved the world. And I am still not religious or anything but I know that if there is a heaven, Gerry will be there.

Olivia turns off the phone and squeezes my hand. I look back at her. "Are you okay?"

"You're right," I whisper. If I talk louder, I will burst into tears and I don't want that. Not right now. I even try to smile. "Thank you, Livvy. This...helped. I think."

She looks at me for a while longer, nodding. I think she's trying to determine if I am telling the truth. I hope she knows i am. "You have to try, Fitz. Please."

I look back at her. She's so beautiful. And she's trying. She is trying. So I have to as well. For Karen. For Livvy.

"Okay," I give in. "I will try. I promise. Only if you promise to get the hell out of California. So you don't have to deal with this. Only if you promise to be happy."

Olivia smiles and I do too, through my tears.

"I promise, Fitz."