A/N: This randomly occurred to me today while I was looking at Olitz clips from back before Shonda was feeling herself and decided we had to stomach whatever BS she put out. It's just a little drabble, but I think it's really sweet. Let me know what you guys think please. XOXO
He wondered if he was still in a coma—or dead—as he blinked at the fuzzy pitch blackness. He sat up as best he could, blinking rapidly. He knew he was awake and very much alive but he couldn't see anything. He waved his hands in front of his face but nothing changed.
"I can't see!" he exclaimed, startling Mellie awake. She looked at him waving his hands before his eyes repeatedly. She felt a pang of pity as she stood to get the doctor. The pity disappeared, quickly replacing it with rage when, in a panicked almost childlike voice, he called, "Olivia! Where's Olivia? I can't see! Where's Olivia?"
"She's not here. Stop shouting," Mellie replied, her voice icy, smirking as he looked around wildly trying to locate her. The doctor came in and she walked over to him, putting on the wife routine. She took hold of his hands and placed them in his lap. "You're fine. The doctor is here. Calm down."
He frowned, still looking around in a panic. Olivia had to be there. She wouldn't have known about him being losing his sight and not been there with him. "Why can't I see? Where's—"
Mellie cut him off. "You're fine. The blindness is just temporary. Listen to the doctor."
"You hit your head very hard on the concrete when you were shot. The trauma of the contact and the bullet made your brain swell and it put a little stress on your optic nerves. The pressure is going down and you will regain your sight within the week," the doctor explained. Fitz looked around, trying desperately to place his voice. He heard footsteps then the door shut.
"Where's Olivia?" he asked, his voice less panicked. He knew he would regain his sight but that didn't make him much better at the moment. He still needed Olivia to make him calm. If she was calm, he could be calm. "Get Olivia! Get Olivia!"
Mellie frowned, her eyes inflamed with rage. He had taken a bullet to the brain, and even that hadn't straightened out his thinking. She had always assumed Olivia was temporary comfort, an ego boost, and that at some point he would get his head together and leave her alone. But he had been in a coma for three weeks and she was the first person he'd asked for. Mellie picked up her purse, wordlessly leaving the room. She frowned at Tom, the agent she knew to be Fitz's number one accomplice in his not-so-secret rendezvous, and spat, "He's asking for her."
Tom entered the room and was immediately struck with sadness at how pitiful Fitz looked. He was blinking as he looked around the room helplessly, his face broken at his current predicament. "Sir, it's me, Tom. Do you want me to go get Ms. Pope?"
"No," Fitz replied, still looking around, now trying to find Tom's voice. Tom quickly moved to the side of the bed and placed his hand on his shoulder. Fitz reached up and clutched it desperately. "Call her. I need to talk to her."
Tom dialed Olivia's number then placed the phone in Fitz's hand. He put it to his ear and listened to the ringing. She picked up on the third ring.
"Hello," she said and relief immediately flooded him at the sound of her voice.
"Hi," he replied. Tom left the room, grateful that Fitz was himself again. It was his job to protect the president, but Tom had grown to like Fitz. He was a nice man, with a surprisingly big heart. And there could be a lot said about Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III as a politician and as a man, but Tom knew that there was one person for whom he gave his best continually and that was Olivia Pope.
A few miles away from the hospital, Olivia was experiencing what she was sure was a small heart attack. After three weeks of waiting and watching and praying more than she ever had in her whole life, there he was on the phone, saying "hi" like nothing had changed. "Hi. How are you?"
The chest-tightening fear returned. "I can't see, Liv. Will you come? I'm scared."
She had never heard him admit to being scared. She was already on her feet, putting on her coat, not stopping to explain anything to Abby and Harrison who were watching her with curious eyes. She seemed to move at light speed, running to the elevator. "I'm coming. I promise."
"Okay," he said before hanging up. He had never felt so helpless, but knowing that Olivia was coming made him feel better. It was bittersweet, really. If his sight didn't come back like the doctors were predicting, he could step down from the presidency amid a glorious outpouring of support, and divorce Mellie, and finally marry his Livvie. Vermont could be theirs. A man who wasn't president had those options. But he would never again see her beautiful face, or the faces of their children, or his own children. He blinked away hot tears, hoping she got there soon.
Olivia pushed her Audi to its limit as she sped down back roads to the hospital. She arrived and quickly parked, running through the parking deck in her gray suede Kate Spade pumps. She made it to the otherwise vacant twelfth floor where his room was seemingly without taking a breath. She rushed to his door, exchanging a look with Tom as another agent scanned her with a metal detector. When he finished—after arguably the longest minute of her life—she rushed into the room. He looked up from his lap at the sound of the door opening, his eyes wide and clear but seeing nothing.
"Liv?" he asked in a broken voice, looking around helplessly. Her heart split in two as she hurried across the room to him, tears clouding her own vision.
"I'm here. I'm here," she soothed, holding onto him tightly and not caring who saw them.
"I can't see," he said softly. She looked down at him and felt a fresh wave of tears fill her eyes as she watched little rivers drop off his delicate bottom eyelashes.
"You're fine," she promised. She didn't know that he was. She hadn't talked to the doctors, and Mellie had barred her from seeing him two weeks earlier. She wasn't sure that she wasn't lying to him about his lost sight. "Shh. You're fine. I'm here."
He wiped his eyes, knowing what he needed that moment was his strong Livvie. "Go talk to the doctor. And tell me the truth, no matter what he says."
The doctor had told him that his sight would return, but he didn't know if the man was lying to spare his feelings and had told Mellie the truth. He hadn't been able to look into the doctor's eyes the way he had learned to from Olivia, to watch his pupils for dilation.
"Okay," she said, planting a small on his temple. He looked up at her, and frowned because he couldn't see her eyes. What if he never got to see those gorgeous eyes again? She kissed his lips, knowing he was afraid. She couldn't even conceive of the possibility of him not getting his sight back. It would destroy him to never see her again, or his children, or their wedding day, or the four children he'd always said he wanted with her in Vermont. She couldn't bear the thought of something hurting him. She had been sure she would die of a broken heart when he was shot, when they didn't know if he would pull through, and the weeks that followed when he lay in that hospital bed with machines living for him, she knew she would spend the rest of her life sitting at his bedside waiting for those eyes to open. Now that he was awake and blind, she didn't know what would become of them. She would never leave him, but she wasn't sure what he would do, how he would cope. Kissing his hands as she stood, she walked on unsteady legs to the door. She told Tom, "I need to talk to the doctor."
Tom left quickly and returned in what seemed like seconds with the tall, wiry doctor. Olivia slipped into business mode immediately. She needed the truth. "Hi, I'm Olivia Pope. What can you tell me about the President's condition?"
"His vitals are fine. He's completely lucid," the doctor explained. He looked up at Olivia's serious face and instantly came to the most pressing matter. "His sight is gone temporarily. He hit his head very hard when he was shot. That, coupled with the trauma of the bullet puncturing his skull, put a considerable amount of pressure on his optic nerves because his brain is swollen. The swelling is going down steadily and his sight should return within the week."
"And if it doesn't?" She almost didn't want to know the answer. But she needed to know so she could tell him, even if it changed them forever.
"The chances of it not returning are negligible, single-digit percentage. But if it doesn't, we would have to operate. But the chances of that happening are so slim that we needn't even consider them," the doctor replied. Olivia was relieved. She thanked the doctor for his time then went back to Fitz. He was still sitting the same way she'd left him, staring blankly at his hands in his lap. He looked up at the sound of the door opening. She walked to the bed and he lay his head on her chest, pressing her into his pillows.
"The doctor said you'll have your sight back within the week," she assured. He breathed a sigh of relief. If Olivia said it, it was true. She never lied.
"And if…?" He couldn't finish the question, couldn't vocalize the alternative.
"They operate. But the chances of that happening are slim, single-digit percentage," she answered, her fingers in his curls. He listened to her heartbeat. It was slow and constant. She was telling the truth. He sat up and touched her cheeks, ran his fingertips over her lips then the bridge of her nose then her eyelashes. He held her face in his hands, loving her warm skin. His fingers slid through her hair then down her neck, trailing her collarbone. He held her shoulders firmly, almost desperately, like she was the only thing rooting him to the earth.
"I'm scared," he half-whispered.
"I know," she replied. She had never held him so tightly. "But I'm here. And I won't leave."
"Promise?" He sounded like a child afraid of the dark.
"I promise," she assured. Mellie would have to pry her away. His hands found her sides, pushing her black sweater up and touching her warm skin. He had missed touching her more than he ever thought he could miss anything. He shifted so that he was partially on top of her. His lips found hers urgently. He needed her more than he needed to see. His hands were sure and steady, his lips pleadingly needy. She didn't think it was a good idea but she couldn't deny him anything at that moment. All she said as he felt around her lap for the zipper on her dark gray pants was, "We have to be quiet."
"Mmhmm," he replied, not able to form words as he kissed her like he was trying to steal every breath she'd ever taken. His tongue wrapped around hers and she lost track of everything except his fingers crawling up her midsection. He squeezed her breasts firmly, loving the feeling of her body. She undressed so he didn't have to try to do it for him, slipping out of her clothes quickly because she found her need for him growing urgently as he kissed her. She untied his gown then the one beneath it used to spare him the indignity of having his backside out. He was a little thinner from his lack of solid food but he was still solid and warm and alive against her.
"Can you…?" She wasn't sure that he was strong enough to do much, especially as his breathing was jagged and shallow.
"Yes," he answered almost immediately. He didn't know that he could. He had needed help getting to the bathroom while he'd waited for her and it wasn't just because he couldn't see. His legs had felt like they weren't his anymore.
"I don't think you should," she said gently, her hands on his waist. He knew he was significantly weaker when she rolled his onto his back with little effort. Normally she could barely move him with his consent, and couldn't at all without it. She squatted over his erection, something he had no problem achieving and maintaining despite his weakened state, and gingerly lowered herself onto it, not wanting to place all her weight on him. Her eyes snapped shut and her mouth formed an "O" at the contact. He did the same, wishing he could see her beautiful face as he slid inside her. He loved the sight of her as they made love, the way her face contorted, the way she froze in a silent scream when she reached her peak. But the feeling of her wet, velvety warmth overtook him and he forgot everything as she moved gently, burying him deeper inside each time she lowered her magical hips. She moved slowly, wanting to experience every sensation. She also wasn't sure what all he could take and she didn't want to overwhelm him. She leaned over, placing her hands above his shoulders, slightly quickening her pace. He moaned quietly, his hands finding her hips. He matched her rhythm, eliciting beautiful gentle mewls from her as he connected with her spot.
"Oh God," she groaned, feeling the tornado begin to swirl in her stomach.
""Liv," he breathed, his fingertips creating small constellations of bruises on her hips. The hospital bed groaned in rhythm with their movements. He held her hips, quickening their pace as he rocketed toward oblivion. The swirling in Olivia's stomach had reached a fever pitch. It wouldn't be long. Her moans became high-pitched inhales as she felt the pressure building. He slowed until they were barely moving, ingraining the feeling of her creamy depths in his memory forever. He pictured her face the way it always looked His right hand slipped from her hip and the contact of the pad of his middle finger instantly threw her over the edge. She wasn't sure how loud her moan was as she splintered into a million pieces. It wasn't long before he let out a throaty strangled groan and she felt the warmth of his release coating her walls. She collapsed on top of him as they both tried to normalize their breathing. She kissed him repeatedly, memorizing the taste of his lips. He wrapped his arms around her, the thin hospital sheets sticking to their sweaty bodies.
"I love you," she murmured against his lips. He couldn't see her face but he imagined that her eyes were wide but serious.
"I love you too," he replied immediately. It was the first time she had said it first.
Three days later, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was her asleep in the armchair she had made her home. She had meant it when she told him she wouldn't leave him. He blinked rapidly, making sure he was really seeing again and each time his eyes opened, she was still there, clear as day. Looking at her, his Livvie, beautifully asleep by his side, he made the decision that they wouldn't wait any longer. When he was out of the hospital, he would give her the world of dreams he'd built for them.