Olivia awoke the next morning for her 10:30am flight from Laguardia Airport in New York to Detroit. She had one more week to spend there working with an organization that builds houses for those in need around the country. She had been working with a group of high school students from Manhattan on the house for three weeks. A stretch of rainy weather had provided them with some unexpected time off, and Olivia had been happy to be in New York with nothing to do for a few days.

As she buckled herself into the backseat of the cab, because of course she always buckled her seat belt, she yawned. She hadn't gone to bed until 3:15am, thanks to her extended conversation with Fitz Grant and the fact that she didn't begin packing until 2:30. She could not be certain she had enough clothes to get her through the week. She had felt like she was buzzing above herself as she packed. Butterflies. Mild nausea. She knew herself well. She had a crush on Fitz.

The man called her within five minutes of their lovely goodbye at the bar. He then proceeded to ask her all about her family (two parents, only child) which then led into an interesting discussion about small and big families, and how your birth order can affect your personality. Fitz was the youngest in his family, and he had three older sisters. Olivia didn't have siblings. It turns out they had a lot of stories to tell and a lot to learn from each other.

It was that quintessential moment, where you talk to someone for what feels like forever and no time at all and are still left wanting more. Olivia hadn't felt it before, not really. Her high school boyfriend had left her feeling queasy, because it was the first and only time she had been in love. But they had gone their separate ways amicably, and she hadn't felt that way since.

Olivia held her phone in her hand as she crossed the bridge that would take her to the airport. She wanted to know everything about Fitz. She knew a quick internet search would give something to hold her until they next spoke. But she also knew how he felt about celebrity gossip, and that when it was about him it was often untrue. Or skewed. She couldn't quite tell.

She smiled to herself when she realized that anything she found on the internet wouldn't be enough. She wanted to hear it from him. And that sentiment lasted all the way to the airport, through security and to the gate. But it could not hold her over through a two hour delay.

She hated herself as soon as she began the search, but she couldn't stop herself. He didn't have Facebook or Twitter, which was a delightful non-surprise. She checked the site that listed all of his previous film and theater roles, smiling at the thought of him in one of her favorite movies of the last year. The movie was quirky, thought-provoking and romantic. It was also groundbreaking and out of the ordinary. Knowing what little she knew about Fitz, coupled with thinking about the movies he no doubt chose (he was that good, he probably did choose), made her smile. Again.

She stared at the screen of her phone, debating about reading the section of his biography about his personal life. She knew there was something he hadn't shared. He had made that pretty clear at the bar. And so she closed her phone, shook her head as if shaking away the bad idea, and boarded her flight to Detroit.

Fitz stood on the makeshift stage outside of the treatment facility in upstate New York. Looking around, he saw faces he recognized from over a decade ago, older now but still with a recognizable kindness and understanding. He had come here with his brother, his twin, his Oliver, when it seemed like there was still hope.

Of course Oliver had been his best friend. They had gone through most of life's experiences together. They had moved to New York after high school, Fitz at NYU for fine arts and Oli at Columbia for engineering. They shared an apartment in Chelsea. They shared friends, excursions to explore the city and their wildest dreams.

Somewhere along the way, Oli lost his usual ability to handle stress. Before college, before New York, life had been easy for him. He was charming, he was smart and he was kind. But those qualities didn't get him as far as they used to. Because Fitz was so busy trying to become an actor, he didn't notice the change in Oli's behavior until words like "addict" and "rehab" were being floated by his sisters and his parents. Fitz had felt at the time, and still felt (even though he publically stated otherwise), that if he had been there, if he had noticed, he could have helped Oli stay on track.

He understands the logic of addiction. That a person isn't choosing drugs over you. That you can't take it personally. But Oliver was literally the other half of his soul. Born from the same egg. Nobody, not even the best psychologists or therapists or whomever he saw in the aftermath, could convince him that he wasn't at least partially to blame for what happened. An overdose might come as a shock, but it is not without its warning signs.

Staring out into the audience, Fitz saw his parents and two of his sisters. His oldest sister, Madeline, was a doctor in Michigan and was on call this weekend. Serena and Juliette were seated next to his parents – Cooper and Catherine – and the sight of them made him so happy. And also incredibly sad. Because Oliver wasn't there, and hadn't been there for 13 years. Thinking about his siblings, he thought back to part of his conversation with Olivia the night before.

"So, your parents didn't want to have all of their kids have names that began with C?"

"They did not. They were careful not to go there."

"But they do have a thing for three-syllable names, huh?"

Fitz thought for a moment. This had never occurred to him. He told her as much.

"What can I say? I notice things."

She did notice things. She knew at the bar he wasn't telling her everything. And he had wanted to share the missing piece with her. He had had a few opportunities. But he just wasn't there yet. Even though it felt like he had known her forever, the truth was it had been less than 24 hours since they met.

His name was called and he stepped to the microphone.

"Thanks so much to Jeremy and Gretchen Langston for having me and for starting Langston's on the River more than 20 years ago. This center gives comfort, hope and safety to people battling addiction, and it supports the families, friends and caregivers who are deeply connected to the battle. I came here over ten years ago with my brother, and will be forever grateful for the sense of peace we both found here. The work done here is crucial in decreasing the stigma of addiction for both those suffering and those of us who love the sufferers. Thank you to everyone, from the gentleman who greeted us at the door this morning, to the office manager who knows everyone by name, to Jeremy and Gretchen themselves for providing an oasis for so many for so long. I'm thrilled to support this mission, and thank you for welcoming my family back with open arms."

After touring the newly built exercise wing of the center, Fitz had dinner with his family at a diner along the Hudson River. Over BLTs and cherry pie, they enjoyed each other's company, as it had been a couple of months since they had all been in the same place at the same time. His sisters lived together in Los Angeles, so Fitz saw them when he was there for work, and he tried to see his parents and Madeline as much as possible. They all spent Christmas in Hawaii every year, and they tried to come together at Langston's on special occasions such as today. It was too difficult for his mom, in particular, to travel to New York City. Fitz understood it. It was bearable but not ideal for him, either.

"Fitz, the exercise wing is fantastic," his dad said as he cleared any remnants of pie from his plate.

"Thanks, Pop," Fitz said, finishing his last bite as well. "I'm sure it will be helpful for people. Working out can be cathartic. Cleansing."

"Why didn't you let them use Oliver's name?" Juliette asked.

"It's just not something I'm comfortable with. I gave the speech. It doesn't need to be out there in the world."

"I disagree," Juliette said, but quietly.

"Why?" Fitz prodded.

"This is great work they're doing here, little brother. Oliver would be proud as hell. We're all proud. And you should be too. There's no shame in a little notoriety."

Fitz considered this. It was always Juliette that challenged him the most. She was the youngest sister, but older than him by 14 months. It was the second time in as many days that someone was borderline criticizing him for being too humble.

"I hear you. But I've said enough. And it's not up to you."

"Yeah yeah, I know. You're his twin. You know best. We all miss him, Fitz."

"Of course you do. That's never been in question."

"I think what she means," Serena tried to cut in.

"She means that I always act as if I would know what Oliver wanted. Facts are facts, guys. He was my best friend. Even at the end, when it felt like I didn't know him at all, he was Oli. So I won't apologize for making the decision based on 20 years of being his brother."

"Right. Yes." Serena smiled sadly.

"I love you guys. We all loved Oli. Let's just remember that, okay?"

Fitz's mom raised her chocolate milkshake. "To Oli, Fitz and the three Grant girls. I love you."

"Here here!"

Fitz sat in his apartment much later, after dropping his family at their hotel, holding his cell phone. It had been an emotionally draining day. After traveling back from upstate, he had taken his family for dessert at a chocolate bar in his neighborhood. Everyone felt too sleepy for a movie or a show, so they made plans for brunch and retired to their beds.

Except as soon as Fitz had returned to his loft, he made some tea (he always caught slack for this beverage choice, but years of being cold on movie sets and needing something other than coffee made him a tea person). He was exhausted, but in that weird place where going to bed was the last thing on his mind. So Fitz found himself sitting on the couch with his cell phone, wanting to call Olivia. It was 9:30, still less than 24 hours since he had met her, but he wanted to call her. Before he lost his nerve, he pulled up his recent call list and hit send. Voicemail.

"This is Olivia Pope. Please leave a message."

"Olivia, hi, it's Fitz. I hope you had a safe, easy flight to Detroit and a good day. I've been gone most of the day but am home now. Just thinking about, well, you. Would love to chat, I'm sure you're busy, hope to hear from you soon."

He rolled his eyes as he hung up. He hadn't called a girl, a woman, in a few years. His last real relationship had been so long ago he could only remember the most incredible parts, not the day to day of it. He had gone on a few dates with one of his sister's friends, and it had been fine, but they had only texted. He realized now that conversation was important. He showered, grabbed the book he was reading and read until he fell asleep on the couch.

Olivia listened to his message as she removed her work boots in her hotel room. It was 11:30. She had gone to dinner with the other trip leaders and had a few glasses of wine. The liquid courage was strong, so she tapped Fitz's name on her phone and sat down at the desk in her room.

"Hi," he said, answering after six rings.

"Hi. You should like you were sleeping. I'm sorry, it's late. I got your message and I just called." She put her head down on her arm on the desk.

"It's okay. You did me a favor. I'm on the couch and should make my way to bed anyway."

"Asleep on the couch. A rocking Saturday night for you, huh?"

"Oh yeah. You know me."

"Only a little bit."

There was silence then.

"How was your day?" Fitz asked.

"Pretty good. We're onto the last pieces, windows, doors, cosmetic stuff. I went to dinner with the other leaders at a cool new brewpub here, which thankfully served wine."

"Michigan grapes?"

"Yes! They were very proud."

"Detroit's on its way back."

"You're from here, right?"

"I grew up in northern Michigan, but went to a private school down there for high school. We were the youngest, and we were borderline journeymen, so my parents agreed to boarding school."

"It has probably changed a lot since then. It has since the last time I was here a few years ago. Wait, journeymen?"

"Yeah, you know, we had our sights set on something else, something different than what we were used to."

"Who's 'we?'" Olivia asked. She was kind of tipsy and truthfully just inquiring. She didn't know she had just stumbled upon the one topic Fitz had balked at the night before.

"Shit, I walked right into that one."

"I'm confused. I might be a little drunk, but still confused."

"You're drunk? Are you drunk dialing me?" he asked playfully.

"I'm calling you back! Common courtesy."

"I see. Good to know."

"I also wanted to talk to you. It seems like it has been weeks and not just one day."

Fitz sighed. "I agree. I'm glad you called back."

"So who's 'we?'"

"My brother and I," Fitz said. "We were twins."

Olivia lifted her head and brushed her hair out of her eyes. If one could see inside of her head, the wheels would have been turning. She tried to put everything together. Tried to connect the dots.

"You didn't mention a brother last night."

"Right. He passed away. I never quite know how to share that with people who don't already know."

"Fitz, I'm so sorry. I can't relate, but I'm so sorry."

This was the best thing anyone could say to him about Oliver. He appreciated people trying to understand, but the truth was they really couldn't.

"Thanks. I'm sorry I didn't mention it. It's not something I talk about."

"I totally understand. I promise I wasn't phishing for information just now. And when I looked you up earlier, I didn't see anything about this. I really didn't know."

"I believe you. Wait, you looked me up?"

"Shit. Yes. My flight was delayed, I was thinking about you, and you're kind of mysterious."

"I shared more with you than I do with most people. I'm not trying to be mysterious. I'm just, I don't know, private. Not a sharer."

"I get it. I do. I was not planning on admitting that I looked you up. But, here we are."

"Here we are."

"How was your day?" she asked. She genuinely wanted to know.

He told her about why he was in New York. She had questions, but mostly listened.

"That's fantastic, Fitz. Really. I'm sure it is difficult, and I'm also sure they're grateful for your support."

"They're the best."

"I bet they say the same about you."

"You are not going to get me to brag about myself. Remind me to never leave you alone with my sister."

"Why?"

"She would love someone else on her side."

"Her side?"

"I can just see you guys getting along. That's all."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Fitz laughed. "For me? Yeah."

"I'm good with families. It's all about listening and framing things the right way."

"Well, when you're in a parent-Olivia conference with my family, I'm sure you'll do great."

"Set it up!" she said, giggling.

Fitz was smiling like an idiot on his end of the line. She was even more adorable than she had been, because she wasn't thinking about what she said or treading lightly. They were flirting and talking about her meeting his family, and it wasn't awkward. It just made him feel good.

"I should probably get ready. We're working tomorrow to try and make up some of the lost time."

"Of course. Well, thanks for calling back. I'll sleep better for sure."

"I'm glad I woke you up."

"Me too."

"Talk to you soon, then?" Olivia asked.

"Definitely."

"Good. Okay, goodnight Fitz."

"'Night, Olivia."

Neither of them hung up. She looked up at the ceiling of the hotel room, waiting.

"Are you still there?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she replied.

"Hang up or I'm going to keep you on the phone all night."

"Who says that's not what I want?"

Olivia could have slapped herself after saying this. Any of the guys she had dated in the past would have reported that she was too close-off, not honest about what she wanted, a good communicator only on her terms. This felt different. But good.

"You have another tiring day tomorrow. And I have brunch with my family. If I look tired they'll be all over me."

"Are you usually rested?"

"I tend to be pretty relaxed. I meditate a bit, and I exercise."

"So you take good care of yourself."

"I try, yeah."

"Have you always been that way?"

This led to another 15 minutes of discussion. Olivia shared that she did yoga three mornings a week and took walks around her neighborhood every evening. They both realized they enjoyed quiet forms of exercise. Nothing in a group. Fitz realized he had started trying to take care and center himself after Oliver died. It was part coping, and part survival.

"Maybe we could do yoga together sometime," Fitz proposed, yawning.

"That sort of goes against what we just talked about. Solitude and what not."

"Yeah, you're right. We wouldn't want to expand our horizons or anything."

Olivia laughed and yawned at the same time. "Exactly. Comfort zone."

"We're both tired. But before we hang up for real, can we go back to the idea of seeing each other again?" Fitz asked.

"Back to it?"

"Not for yoga. But for something else."

"Fitz Grant. We only just met."

He guffawed. "Lord. Am I just bad at this, or are you making it difficult?"

Olivia sat up straighter. She had been called difficult before. She knew Fitz wasn't doing that exactly, but she still hated that word.

"Olivia? You there?"

"I'm here. Sorry, I just have an aversion to that word."

"Difficult?"

"Yes. People use it against me. I can be, um, kind of rigid."

"With what? Expectations?"

"Sort of. Routines. A level of respect. I don't always do a good job of communicating my feelings but then expect people to understand me. That's what my therapist tells me, anyway."

"Tell your therapist about this. You just did a very good job."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. And I wasn't calling you difficult. I was trying to figure out how to go about seeing you again without being obvious. I'm failing miserably."

"Not true. I'd love to." Olivia stood and walked to the hotel room door to make sure the bolt was secure.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That's excellent news. We're good on the phone. I bet we'd be great over dinner at that Italian place near the bar."

"Whoa," Olivia said teasingly.

"What?" Fitz was confused.

"You're much better at this than you think."

"Maybe. I think we should consider the very real possibility that you're bringing it out of me."

"Either way, that sounds like a good idea. Do you want to call me next Friday? That's when I get back."

"I do. But I also want to call you tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Talk to you soon, then."

"Talk to you soon. Goodnight, Olivia."

"Night."

Olivia hung up and sat down in front of the hotel room door. She felt lightheaded, but it wasn't from the wine. It was the same feeling she had experienced last night and this morning. Fitz was affecting her in a way that few people had before.

Fitz made his way to his bedroom. He didn't have to meditate to fall asleep tonight. He was calm, happy and looking forward to what came next.