A/N: First of all, I want to say thank you to those who have commented, both positively and negatively. All reviews are good reviews in my book, because it helps me to improve. So, again, thank you. Thank you immensely. To the one comment that wondered if this is going to be a "Poor Olivia" type of story, it's not. All characters are broken, that's the true scandal. I just hope that my writing can help fix the characters, not just one, but all of them.

Anyway, on with the story. I do not own Shondaland, Shonda, Scandal, or Ben Howard. However, I occasionally dream of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III owning me.

Olivia didn't dare move, not one inch...not one centimeter. If she had the choice, she would stay in this bed, this large, wonderful comfy bed all day. However, since she didn't have that choice and she had to be at work in three hours, she wasn't going to enjoy at least another hour and half in this bed, this hiding spot, where the sun and no one could reach her. A part of Olivia hoped for a sinkhole to appear out of nowhere that just took her bed and herself, fitted with all the covers and pillows she carefully chose. The other part wished that there was a magic aspirin and water genie that would just make this hangover go away.

She closed her eyes, hoping for one of the two outcomes. One allowed her to hide from the world from the rest of her life, albeit short life, while the other allowed for her to face the world as Olivia Pope, the fixer.

As she closed her eyes, begging for more sleep and one of her wishes to come true, she heard the worst sound. A knock at her door.

"Go away," she whispered, knowing the intruder wouldn't hear her, but still not wanting to move an inch, a centimeter.

The knock came again, only louder.

"Are you kidding me?" Olivia grabbed for her pillow, her arms feeling like someone was sitting on them making the task nearly impossible. As she finally pulled the pillow over her eyes, she heard the knock again.

Olivia groaned, as she threw the pillow she worked so hard for onto the floor. Moving slowly, Olivia sat up at the edge of her bed to gain back her balance. Taking a deep breath, wishing the world to stop moving she stood up, feeling the world around her spinning, the urge to throw up torturing her body. As she walked through her hallway to the front living room, they knocked again.

"Coming," she groaned.

She looked through her door's peep hole, and saw Edison standing there smiling. She quickly closed it, raising her hand to her head, then unlocking the door and slowly opening it.

"Edison."

"You're not going to call me Eddy this morning?" Edison laughed, as he lifted up one red shopping back.

"What is that?" Olivia asked, closing the door behind Edison as he walked in and put the bag on her dining room table.

"It's an option, this bag will cure your headache after you throw up once, or I can take you out to eat at this greasy non-healthy option. Either way, we are getting rid of that hangover." He smiled, as he slipped off his peacoat, draping it over the dining room chair.

"Why are you here?" Olivia asked, sitting down on her couch, waiting for Edison to walk over to her, seeing his figure appearing in her peripheral.

"You called me last night, after I called you. You usually don't return my calls."

"I was drunk," Olivia looked at his wounded expression.

"Don't insult me, Olivia. Let me take care of you."

Olivia took a deep breath, which she quickly regretted as it made the room spin.

"Go take a shower, then we are going to Lincoln's Club Shop, and you are going to order the unhealthiest option on the menu and waffles. No wine. No popcorn. No jam. Just let me take care of you Olivia." Edison grabbed Olivia's hand, pulling her up to him not gently, making her room spin again.

"And while we eat, we can talk about the man that broke your heart."

"What?" Olivia looks up to him shocked, her room momentarily still.

"Your phone call, "men with penises who fuck up the world and have wives" remember?" Edison smiled, as he walked Olivia to the bathroom.

"Quick shower, quicker cure."

Olivia smiled softly at him, as she closed the bathroom door and started the shower.

Quick shower, quicker cure. She wondered how that worked with non-relationship things that she had with the President.