A/N: wow, thank you guys for all the reviews. I can tell that what I had Olivia say to Fitz about his suicide attempt really struck a nerve with some of you. All I can say to that is good! Words are supposed to make you feel something. I'm glad they did. Olivia is in character of who she is in season four, but I think we all know the Olivia she is now, is not the one we once knew. Shonda can do what she wants, write whatever she wants. I hope I have a reason to tune in before it's all said and done, but like I said from the beginning, this story is for me—a way to right their love story before it's all over. Olitz IS endgame—for me. Stay tuned and thank you for reading.
Chapter 8
Olivia was pacing around her living room while Abby watched in silence. Her feet moved in quick circles from one corner to the other. She walked with purpose, as if she was working several things out. Sometimes she mumbled, and she constantly looked at her cell phone. Abby had gotten her friend to eat something after she slept a few hours, and had fitful dreams. Abby was sure they were about Fitz because she heard Olivia calling his name in her sleep.
Just then, Olivia turned to Abby. "He's reported to that meeting on West Africa, right?"
Abby made a show of looking at her email on her phone to confirm what she already knew. "Yes, my former aides still keep me in the loop; they're hoping I come back, so I get blind copied on some of the alerts. He's going to have remarks in three hours."
Olivia nodded as if the news was barely a comfort, and kept walking. Abby looked at her watch again and blew out a breath when there was a rapid knock. Olivia stopped and stared at the door, before moving to the peephole. She peered through for a moment and then abruptly let go of the peephole cover and returned to her march.
"Um, do you want to get that?" Abby asked.
"No."
"No? You screamed all night long. I came here to talk to you and all you did was fall apart and cry in my arms. I love you, Liv, we've cried in each other's arms more than once, but this is beyond our annual meltdowns. Every time I see you, you look stricken."
"Look, Abby, don't psychoanalyze me, okay? You don't know what you're talking about." Olivia was getting defensive. She didn't like where this was going.
Abby shook her head. "You know, Liv, you are some piece of work."
Olivia's eyes flashed with shock and rage at her friend.
"They both love you. They're both willing to stay with you forever. And you won't choose. You play them against each other; you bounce back and forth-what kind of person-"
"Abby!"
"You need to get your life back. You need to talk to a therapist. You need to take some time for yourself, and then you need to decide who you want, and then you need to LIVE WITH IT!"
Olivia's jaw hung open, her brow creased. She didn't know what to say.
"I'm going to let your new therapist into your apartment now. You are going to have one session today and one session tomorrow. What you do after that is up to you."
"You can't make me talk to a therapist, Abby."
The look Abby gave her silenced Olivia. "I don't give a damn if you stare at the four walls and pick your nose; you're going to do it with an audience-today and tomorrow, Liv. Her name is Brenda Ford. "
Olivia looked at Abby like she had two heads.
"I've cancelled all your appointments. Quinn's taking the urgent meetings, and she'll let me know if there's anything she can't handle on her own."
"You have no right-"
"It's just a conversation, Liv. I don't care what you talk about, but you need to talk to someone because the woman that I saw last night is NOT OKAY."
"Abby, I am Olivia Pope—I don't DO therapy-"
"Today you do and she's here, so sit down on that couch and shut up!" Abby didn't wait for Olivia to recover from her expression of astonishment. Instead she swung open the door, and smiled brightly.
"Dr. Ford, thank you for coming." Abby moved aside as the doctor came in. She was dressed casually in jeans, black flats, and a navy blazer over a white blouse. Abby thought she looked trendy, sweet enough, and a couple of years older than Olivia. Her dark brown hair fell in thick waves around her shoulders shaping her curvy frame. Her makeup was understated. She looked professional, but she also looked concerned. Most importantly to Abby, she didn't look intimidated by the infamous Olivia Pope.
"Of course, my assistant relayed the urgency of your call." She shook Abby's hand and then put her bag down by the door. Her arms fell at her sides and she looked directly at Olivia, who smoothed her hair down and played with her pajama sleeves. "Ms. Pope, I'm Brenda. May I call you Olivia?"
"Look, Dr. Ford, I don't really-"
"It's Brenda, please. We don't have to commit to anything, this is just a conversation. How about we start there, no promises?"
"I'm not leaving until you do it," Abby said to Olivia, while she dug around in her purse and handed Dr. Ford a piece of paper and a pen.
"What's this?" Brenda asked.
"A confidentiality agreement that is a lot more binding and threatening than your doctor patient confidentiality standards."
"Which are legally binding," Brenda interrupted, as she scanned the single page. She looked back and forth from Abby to Olivia, and then with a small smile, she signed on the dotted line.
Olivia let out a deep breath, and Abby nodded silently. "I'm going to go into the bedroom and check up on my emails. I'll check on you two in an hour," Abby said, as she tucked the document into her purse.
"Why don't we sit?"
"Look, Dr. Ford, I really appreciate you coming here like this, but my friend Abby was just a little overzealous in booking you. I don't need therapy, I have my wine. So why don't we chat about the weather or your favorite varietals from the last ten years for an hour to appease her, and then you can go; I'll pay you double your rate for your time."
"It's Brenda, and you will pay for the hour, which is expensive enough, I assure you, including the after-hours call. Your friend Abby has already taken care of the fee, so now I'm just here for you. I do know who you are, and I can understand why you would be resistant to talking to a stranger. But, we're both here now, and I've already signed my life away with that ironclad security agreement of yours, so why don't we just talk for this hour, and then if you don't want to, we never have to see each other again."
Olivia remained silent and looked skeptical, but she didn't get up and go for the wine like she wanted to. With an encouraging smile, Dr. Ford went on.
"Your friend Abby cares about you a great deal. Can you tell me why you think she called me here tonight? Well," Brenda looked at her watch, "actually the sun will be coming up any minute."
"I didn't sleep well, I've been having nightmares," Olivia said.
"About?"
"Someone I care about a great deal. I said something hurtful. I did something hurtful. I did a lot of hurtful things, actually. Anyway, it's not going to be so easy to repair the damage that's been done." Olivia sighed and moved from the edge of the couch to the chair, feeling defensive and vulnerable.
"You owe this person an apology?"
Olivia scoffed. "I owe this person…" her voice overcome with emotion, faltered. "Dr. Ford, this is too deep and too sordid a story for an hour long conversation."
"Well we've only got 45 minutes left anyway," Brenda chuckled. "What would make you feel better? What do you think would make your friend Abby feel better?"
"I think she'd like it if I behaved more normally and weren't a complete mess over the men in my life. I think she'd like it if I were happy. What would make me happy would cost the American People a great deal."
"That's pretty ominous. I don't think any single person is capable of costing the American People too much. I think what families care about are their jobs, their loved ones, security for their families. Would your happiness cost the American People those things?"
"No," Olivia said bluntly. "But it might deter resources and cause distraction and a whole lot of wasted time."
"My goodness," Brenda said, "Why don't we talk about something you mentioned a moment ago? You said you had 'men' plural in your life. Is that what some of this is about?"
Olivia smiled wryly. "I'm not this person. I'm not someone who is caught up in love triangles. I'm a monogamous person. I've loved more than one man, cared deeply for everyone I've ever slept with, despite what some might say or think, and I don't want to hurt any of them."
"But you are hurting them?" Brenda asked. "Or are they hurting you?"
"We're all hurting each other, it's a big mess, and if I told you the details I'd probably have to kill you, Dr. Ford."
"Olivia, you don't have to tell me all your secrets. And since we may not ever talk again, I'm going to get right to the point. As I said, I know who you are; I am an expensive and damn good psychiatrist working in the DC Metro Area. We've probably met some of the same people."
Olivia looked at her smirk and guessed that she meant they'd had some of the same clients.
"We do the same thing for people—we help them. I'm going to give you a piece of advice. Make a decision. Whatever it is you are NOT deciding on, just decide. Whatever it is, you can change your mind later."
Olivia sighed.
"What's that about?" Brenda asked.
"Abby said the same thing. Maybe she should become a therapist."
Brenda smiled. "Indecision is what is painful in our lives. Indecision is probably what is hurting all the men in your life, including your father."
Olivia's senses went on alert immediately and she stood defensively. "You know my father?"
"No," Brenda said earnestly. "But I know myself and I know women. Not many of us get into adulthood without one or two issues with daddy, especially when it comes to the matter of love and relationships. Is your father living?"
"If he's lucky," Olivia sighed, slumping back into the chair. "It's complicated," she added when she observed the doctor's confused expression. "My father is not the man I thought he was, to put it mildly, he has a great stake in my decisions, and he would like me to do what he wants instead of what I want." Olivia winced at the huge oversimplification of her relationship with her father.
"I have to ask you, Olivia, if you're thinking about hurting yourself."
Olivia closed her eyes and thought of Fitz. "No," she stated simply.
"Your friend Abby seemed concerned that you were preoccupied with things beyond your control. Are you thinking of hurting anyone else?"
"I've done enough, I've hurt enough people, and I don't know how to make that better."
"Decide," Brenda said succinctly. "Whatever you're on the fence about, even if it's the wrong decision, just make it."
"What if I choose wrong?"
"Are you choosing between two people?"
Olivia nodded wordlessly.
"Just for the sake of argument, choose the man you love, the man you were dreaming about, choose him in your mind right now. What does it feel like?"
Olivia closed her eyes and a smile crept onto her face. "It feels warm, and I have butterflies in my stomach. I'm excited. I want to do a cartwheel," she laughed, and then opened her eyes surprising herself and wiping away a hot tear. She recovered quickly, regaining the professionalism and distance that she wanted to maintain.
"And now, choose the other man, just in your mind, just for the moment. What does it feel like?"
"It feels…" Olivia searched for the words, "Incomplete. Unfinished, but settled, somehow."
Brenda looked at her for a few moments, before standing and moving to get her medical bag. "I'm going to write you a prescription for something that will help you sleep soundly. I think you may want to lay off the wine for a couple of nights, especially if you take this. I'm going to give you one dose for tonight, and the rest you can pick up at the pharmacy. Here's my card, I'm going to suggest another session, but I understand that you value your privacy. I can come here again, if you'd like."
Olivia took the card and the medicine bottle and clutched them in her hands.
"I'll think about it."
"That's a start." Brenda looked at her watch. "Our time's up, but I do hope you'll call me again, or talk to someone else." She stood and extended her hand to Olivia, who shook it.
"Thank you, Dr.—er, Brenda."
"You're welcome. You are the best person to decide your life, Olivia. Not your father and not either of these men, or any of your clients or your friends. If you want to get back to center, start with honoring your decisions. Do what makes you happy."
Olivia showed Brenda to the door and then shut it softly behind her. She leaned against it and let her eyes flutter closed. She went to the kitchen and started to pour a glass of wine, but the sun was starting to shine through her blinds and even she couldn't justify it at this hour. She tossed the mouthful of wine into the sink and rinsed out the glass, then filled it with water, not bothering to take a different glass from the cabinet. She knocked down the pills Dr. Ford had given her and then sighed.
Abby came from Olivia's bedroom cautiously. "Did I hear the door?" she asked.
"Dr. Ford just left," Olivia said.
"Look, Liv, I know I may have overstepped my bounds, but as your friend, I just had to-"
"It's all right, Abby. She gave me something to help me sleep, which I've already taken, so if you wouldn't mind-"
"Clear your schedule and get the hell out? Done and done."
Olivia smiled gratefully. "Don't stay away too long. We can have dinner tonight, maybe? You can bring me up to speed after you've spoken to Quinn, and I can review the file."
"What file?"
"The one you're going to put together on everything the United States government knows about Dr. Brenda Ford."
"You got it." Abby took Olivia's hand and squeezed it reassuringly before leaving.
Olivia turned off all the lights in her apartment and picked up her phone, looking one last time for any kind of reply from Fitz. Finding none, her heart sank a little further. She climbed into bed, already feeling the effects of the medicine, sank down into the covers, and went to sleep.
Santa Barbara, California 2009
"Fitz, oh god, you have to stop." Olivia's own voice sounded noncommittal to her ears. Fitz chuckled, not removing his lips from her neck. They were in the pool house surrounded by darkness, making out like teenagers on a cushioned chaise lounge near the edge of the water. The glow from the bulbs at the bottom of the pool was their only source of light.
They lay on their sides, pressed together, his knee between her legs. She pushed herself against him shamelessly, and Fitz, shirtless, was working to get her wet swimsuit past her shoulders. He'd succeeded on one side, and was trying for the other, when she pressed her hands against his chest. "Someone could catch us! Let's go back to my room, please, Fitz!"
"Olivia, we're 500 yards from the main house. Everyone has gone to bed, no one is going to hear you, and that's a very good thing," he added with a smirk. He captured her lips with his own then, silencing her protests. He worked his way down her neck and chest until he seized the nipple he'd freed moments ago. His fingertips were cold and as he sucked and flicked at it with his finger, Olivia felt chills go all over her body.
Suddenly she was helping him out of his trunks, and pushing him into the lounge, so she could straddle him and pull her suit down on the other side. She didn't want to get off of him long enough to step out of the suit which was still otherwise clinging to her body, so she pulled the crotch to the side, and sank down on him, both of them groaning at the feeling of being united. Olivia didn't move for a moment, but then her hips began a gentle swirl as she clasped her hands in his.
"You feel, ah-" Olivia closed her eyes and threw her head back when Fitz sat up and closed his lips around the newly freed bud, "So good, baby."
"I missed you," he said. "Don't stay gone so long, okay?"
"Mmm," she groaned out the promise as she pushed him back down and chased his lips for a kiss. "I thought about you every second," she said as he held on to her hips and increased his pace, "Every second."
"Just a second."
"Excuse me, what?" Fitz was jarred back to the present by the sound of the young woman's voice.
"Oh, sir," she said correcting herself. "I'm sorry. The doctor—I mean Max-will just be another minute, SIR."
Fitz cleared his head of thoughts of Olivia and then apologized. "That's all right, you don't need to call me 'Sir,' I just didn't hear you. I'm not in a rush it's just a lunch date."
The receptionist looked incredulous at the conversation she was having with the President of the United States. "Yes sir."
Fitz walked around the room casually, his hands in his pockets, his suit jacket slung over a nearby chair, one agent waiting outside, for his friend and secret therapist, Dr. Max Nathanson, to "have lunch."
He was relieved when the doors opened and Max greeted him with a bright smile and open arms. A much warmer welcome than he would give his typical patients. After all, he and Max had been in the Navy together, too.
Fitz reciprocated the courteous gesture, and the two men headed back into Max's office. "Those sandwiches you love have already arrived, Mr. President, let's eat!" Max shut the door and laughed heartily, his hands rubbing his thick black and gray beard. "Think she bought it?" he said with a whisper as they moved to the other side of the room.
"I do," Fitz replied. "But would it matter if she didn't? Can't two old friends have lunch?"
"Yes. We can," Max said as he handed Fitz one of the Styrofoam platters which held a cheesesteak—his held pastrami. "But, I might add, there's nothing wrong with the President seeing a therapist. In fact, it should be required."
Fitz nodded his appreciation, and the two of them began to eat. They laughed as they ate with gusto, sharing stories and updating each other on the lives of their children. When they finished the conversation lulled into an easy silence. Max watched thoughtfully as Fitz played with a paperweight on the desk.
"Hour's almost up, buddy," Max said. "We gonna talk about it, or what?"
"When I see her, it makes me want to lose my mind," Fitz said plainly, "In every way. She makes my blood boil, she makes my heart race, and I cannot see or hear anyone or anything else when I am with her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her but I cannot have her and that is why I'm sitting here and that is why I'm talking to you."
"Why can't you have her?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well you've been reelected. You are divorced, so why can't you have Olivia Pope? Sure you would have to contend with commenters about the origins of your relationship, her race, your age difference, but you have dealt with rumors and innuendos and a displeased party before. So, why can't you have her?"
Fitz sighed, "Because she's in love with somebody else. Now what the hell am I supposed to do about that?"
"How's Maddie?" Max asked changing gears unexpectedly; Fitz looked up at him questioning.
"Mad's great, she's perfect. She says the right things, it's beautiful, and it's easy with her. She doesn't push. She makes me laugh. She's a great dancer, Maddie. She loves to dance. Do you know she curses like a sailor? God, she's worse than Mellie, but the jokes—oh my god." Fitz leaned back and closed his eyes. "It should be enough."
"But it's not?" Max asked.
Fitz shook his head.
Max chose his next words carefully. "I don't know Ms. Pope, but I do know you. And if you feel this passionately about her, would it be safe to say that at least once upon a time, she felt the same about you?"
"Yes," Fitz said without hesitation. "Whatever else happened, we loved each other very much."
"That doesn't sound like the kind of love that just fades away. So, even if she is in love with someone else right now, who's to say that relationship will last? Do you know the person she's in love with?"
"Yes. Very well." Fitz hadn't shared this with Max before, but he took a chance. "It's Jake."
Max paused a second. "Ballard?!"
"Yep." Fitz sat back and stretched his arms, groaning. "They're dating—or whatever—and standing in the sun and developing catchphrases."
"Jake Ballard, that asshole from Annapolis?"
Fitz snickered. "That's the one."
Max looked at Fitz seriously, and then smiled. "Well, fuck him!"
Fitz's eyebrows rose with incredulity before both men broke out into loud hearty laughter.