A/N: Hi! I wasn't expecting such a good response to this story but I'm glad everyone is interested. It won't be very long, probably 10 chapters (the same goes for "A Little Party Never Killed Nobody") but I intend to make the story as complete as possible.

To answer a concern in the reviews, neither Olivia nor Fitz will die in this story. If I was following the historical timelines, they would both have to die this chapter and nobody wants that. Honestly, chapter 1 was where the Marilyn/JFK similarities ended for the most part.

Palm Springs, California · January 1963

Olivia lay in her sun room, still in her nightgown though it was evening time. She could hear Quinn humming in the kitchen as she made hot chocolate despite the temperatures in the mid-70s's. Sam Cooke crooned on the record player and she couldn't help thinking of Fitz. His music taste surprised her. She wasn't sure what she'd imagined he'd be, but she hadn't been expecting his avid love of jazz and rhythm and blues. He had nearly talked her ear off about Louis Armstrong and Sam Cooke. She had taken him to see Ella Fitzgerald at a little club in Harlem.

The phone rang just as the record restarted. Olivia smiled as she picked it up. "Good afternoon, Mr. President."

"How do you always manage to do that?" he asked in reply. Olivia could picture the smile on his face.

"You always call at 5. You're a creature of habit, darling." She laughed and Fitz leaned back in his chair, falling into the sound. It seemed like it had been more than two weeks since he'd seen her last, but Fitz knew that he would never be content unless he could wake up to her face every day. There wasn't a day that passed that he didn't think of their last night together. The thud of her heartbeat thumping in tandem with his played in the back of his mind constantly. And there was no sweeter sound than her soft, even breathing. Olivia laughed. "What are you thinking about? I can hear you smiling."

"I was just thinking about New Years," he replied. "God bless freak ice storms."

"You can always count on Houston to deliver." Olivia smiled, remembering their last rendezvous.

XXXXX

Houston, Texas · January 1963

New Year's Day

Olivia couldn't stifle a sigh of contentment as she relaxed against Fitz's warm body in the hotel bed. She could still hear the ice pelting the windows lining the east-facing wall. She rolled over to lay on her side, resting her cheek against the soap-scented downy hair of his chest. "'I've never been so thankful for a winter storm."

A freak ice storm had grounded out flights in and out of the state for the night. Fitz was due back in D.C. the next day but there was nothing to be done, not that he had done much. He had been all too thrilled to return to the hotel where she was still in his bed, the sheets pulled tight around her little body when she answered the door. He grinned at her surprised face. "You can't just answer the door like that. I could have been anyone."

"Well it's not like anyone knows I'm here, Mr. Larson," she replied. They had borrowed his most trusted agent's surname to book the room. She stepped back to let him inside. "What are you doing back here?"

"There's some kind of ice storm moving in and everything's grounded for the night," he smiled as he wrapped his arms around her, "including me, Mrs. Larson."

"So what should we do with so much free time?"

Fitz took off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Well I got quite the chill outside. Maybe we should do something active to warm me up."

Olivia laughed as she slipped out of the sheets, piling them on the bed, and went to the bathroom. "Maybe a nice hot bath would do you some good, Mr. Larson."

A moment later Fitz heard the water turn on. He undressed as he walked to the stereo beside the dresser. He turned on his favorite Frank Sinatra record and skipped to his favorite song. Olivia appeared in the bathroom doorway, smiling at him. "Are you trying to seduce me? I've got a boyfriend you know."

"Oh really?" Fitz smiled as he walked across the dim room to her and pulled her into his arms.

"Yes. He's quite a catch. Rich, handsome, and famous. He's on television all the time."

"He sounds like some guy."

"He is. I don't think he'd like what you're getting at though." Fitz's left index finger made small circles in the bare small of her back.

"I'm not getting at anything. I'm just trying to take a bath. Would you like to join me?"

Olivia smiled, wrinkling her nose. "That doesn't sound like something I should be doing. I heard you're married."

"Well I can keep a secret if you can." They got into the steaming bathtub, fitting comfortably to Fitz's surprise. At 6'3, he wasn't used to being so easily accommodated in the bath—especially with a guest—but the hotel's large sunken tub actually left him with room to stretch. Olivia leaned back against his chest and he kissed the crown of her head. "You know, I'm probably gonna be even colder when I get out of the tub."

Olivia leaned her head back to smile at him. "Should we go straight to bed then?"

"I think we should lay in front of the fireplace and get nice and warm."

xxxxx

"You know, I got asked to do a photoshoot like this last year," Olivia said as she stretched out in front of the fire.

Fitz looked away from rubbing lotion on her legs. "Really?"

"Yes." She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him massage her left calf. "Hugh Hefner wants me to be his first colored Playmate."

"Is that right?" Fitz wasn't sure how he felt about Olivia being in a magazine like Playboy. He definitely didn't like the idea of her being around Hugh Hefner.

"Yes. I was doing an interview at a restaurant in L.A. last month and he was at the next table. He about talked my ear off about being a Playmate. Apparently once I become an official one, I can visit his new club in Chicago any time I like."

"And isn't that the perk of a lifetime?"

Olivia laughed at his smirk. "I just don't think I could do that, you know, have my naked pictures out in front of the whole world. I do like the little bunny outfit though."

Fitz smiled at her. "I could get you one of those."

She smirked at him, wrinkling her nose. "I bet that'd just make your day, wouldn't it?"

"Anything with you would make my day." Finished with the lotion, Fitz moved to lay beside her and kissed her cheek. "I think I love you. Is that crazy?"

Olivia took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. "I think I love you too so it can't be crazy. Unless we're both bananas and don't know it."

They laughed then, soft and harmonious.

XXXXX

"We haven't had that kind of bad luck in a long time. Not even a lousy hurricane warning," Olivia said with a smile.

Fitz chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "You know, my second inauguration ball is coming up."

"I know. I got the invitation." The card sat on her nightstand, mocking her. The President and First Lady cordially invite Miss Olivia Pope and a guest… She never got past the guest part. She wasn't sure if she should bring a date, or if she even wanted to bring one. She simply hadn't RSVP'd, leaving the card to stare at her at night. She thought of taking Quinn but the girl had adamantly refused, having fallen in love with some poet who was showing her a world outside of the glitz and glamour. Olivia didn't mind the young man, only requesting that he wear shoes in the house. So far, he had shown up in socks, which was more or less what she'd asked for so she let him be.

"Are you coming?" Fitz hoped more than anything that she came. She had been the bright spot of his inauguration day, popping up just before his swearing in to give him an engraved pocket watch. During one of their numerous phone calls, they had shared a laugh over the loss of the "well-dressed man," the man who wore a waistcoat and carried a pocket watch. He still remembered the way her eyes danced when she pulled the box from her fur purse on that cold January morning and presented it to him, saying only, "I wanted you to have something special, and I hear these are making a comeback."

"I don't know. I don't have anything to wear." It couldn't have been a more damnable lie than if her pants had caught fire at that exact moment. She had more evening gowns than she knew what to do with, and designers were sending her letters and clothes every day. Fashion was the last issue she had with attending the dinner.

"You could wear that dress you wore to my birthday party, or that red one from that show you did, or the one you wore to the restaurant in Houston." In Houston, Olivia had nearly succeeded in knocking his eyeballs out of his head with a slinky black strapless dress made of the softest crushed velvet that put her cleavage on central display, until she turned around and her entire back was exposed. Watching her mill around the room where the gala for something or other was held, he almost proclaimed his love to the world, especially when she caught the eye of some baseball player who became her personal champagne fetcher within minutes of being formally introduced.

"I've already worn those. And I think an inauguration requires a conservative nature that I don't possess. I think I'll send my deepest regrets and a card."

"You can't."

"Says who?" She wasn't sure how she felt about the finality of his tone. He'd often sent an agent to her door when they fought and she stopped picking up the phone.

"Someone who can't go the whole night without you." His tone was much softer and Olivia knew then that she would go, if only so she didn't have to think about him spending the whole night thinking about her.

"I'll be there," she finally replied. A knot formed in her stomach. "Goodnight, Mr. President."

"Goodnight." Fitz waited until she hung up to lean back in his chair. He missed her. He missed her and he had just talked to her. That was why she had to come to the ball. He couldn't spend any more time away from her.

XXXXX

Saturday (four days later) · Washington D.C.

Inaugural Ball

Fitz wore his best fake smile as he stood with Mellie at the head of the receiving line. He tried to stop his heart from jumping each time a limousine pulled up, but he couldn't help himself. She had said she would come, but would she? Olivia wasn't a liar, but she hadn't seemed very keen on the idea of watching him from the sidelines instead of by his side where she should have been. Fitz had wanted to tell her he'd dance with her all night if that was what she wanted, but he couldn't make that promise, not when he couldn't absolutely keep it. So he just kept up hope that she would show up and that he would be able to spend time with her.

"Haven't seen your girlfriend yet," Mellie muttered. She glanced briefly at him. "Did you two have a falling out?"

Fitz smiled down at her. "She'll be here."

Mellie's smile twitched but she didn't reply, especially not when Olivia was emerging from a limousine at that very moment. She wasn't sure what she'd expected Olivia to wear, but the silk ivory gown draped almost demurely over her buxom form wasn't what Mellie had in mind. She was even more surprised to see a man rush to meet her and offer his arm. Her lips curved into a smile when she turned and saw Fitz looking like someone had punched him in the stomach. The hurt that flashed in his eyes gave her a pang of pity for him. She squeezed his hand briefly. "Don't let her see you looking like that."

Fitz quickly straightened his face and put on a hollow smile as the couple neared him. He couldn't make himself speak when they stopped before him. Mellie stepped in quickly. "Olivia, lovely to see you. And who's this?"

"This is Marcus Walker," Olivia replied, her eyes moving from Fitz to Mellie. She wasn't sure what to make of his smile as he looked at a spot above her head.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both. I'm a bit of a politician myself," Marcus said with a smile. Olivia glanced at him, thinking she liked him much better when he was quiet.

"Really?" Fitz finally found his tongue, looking the young man over. He was older than Olivia but younger than him, and dressed in a black tuxedo with an ivory tie that matched Olivia's dress. Fitz smirked, thinking they could have been going to the prom.

"Yes sir. It's nothing big, just a small civil rights group in Mississippi." Marcus beamed proudly. "I really appreciate all you've been doing to help us, Mr. President."

"It's the right thing to do," Fitz replied.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk politics today, Marcus," Olivia interjected. "We should find our seats anyway."

Olivia quickly pulled him away and they found their table. Fitz stopped his jaw form going slack at the sight of her bare back. Mellie turned to smirk at her husband. "Well you're better looking if nothing else."

"I'm going to the bar," Fitz replied before walking away. He vaguely remembered giving Mellie the same kind of compliment when Andrew showed up with the Barbie Doll equivalent of a young Mellie. He glanced at Olivia and found her looking at him but quickly looked away.

At her table, Olivia twirled her index finger around the rim of her champagne glass. She tried not to frown, thinking about how the evening was over before it started. She hadn't wanted a date, but she hadn't wanted to watch Fitz dance with his wife all night alone. Still, the look on Fitz's face when he saw her with Marcus had hurt her as much as watching him with Mellie would have, so she really hadn't saved herself any injury. Plus she'd hurt his feelings as well, so she was doubly low.

"What's wrong?" Marcus asked, making her look up from her empty place setting.

"Oh, nothing," she answered with a lukewarm smile. "I'm a little tired is all. Early flight this morning. I was so wired I could hardly sleep a wink when I got to the hotel."

Marcus wasn't the least bit convinced. "I missed something. I don't know what it is, but I missed it."

"What do you mean?" Olivia frowned, wondering if she and Fitz were so obvious.

"You, and him," he replied. Anyone with eyes could see Olivia and Fitz were in love the moment they exchanged a look. "Something's there, or it was. And I'm smack in the middle of it."

"You're crazy."

"And you're having an affair with the president."

Olivia lifted her head and squared her shoulders. She frowned at Marcus. "How dare you make that kind of accusation, in front of all this press for that matter? And how dare you sit in my face and presume to know anything about me or the president when you've known us both for about the same amount of time. Which is what? A full five minutes? I invited you as my plus one as a favor to your sister for designing this dress for me and prior to this conversation I thought you were a half-decent man with some semblance of good sense, but do not for one second believe you're privy to any part of my life because you think you sensed something between myself and a married man."

Marcus was stunned for a moment but quickly recovered and sneered at her. "Like you're so hard to figure out. Or so morally upright that you wouldn't sleep with a married man. The whole world knows about the show you put on at his birthday party. It wouldn't be a stretch to say you've been giving him private ones since then."

Olivia's face burned with rage. She stood and quickly threw the last of her champagne in Marcus's sneering face. She stormed out of the ballroom in search of a bathroom and found herself walking the halls. She didn't even realize she'd wandered into the Oval Office until he spoke. "Lost?"

There he was, leaning against the desk with a glass of scotch in his hand. She hadn't had a chance to really look at him when she arrived, but now that she was able to take him in fully, she was awed by how handsome he was in his black tux. She looked away from him, found her tongue. "I was looking for a bathroom. I don't know where I am."

"This is my office," he replied. He wore a small proud smile.

"Nice. Opulent yet sophisticated. Very presidential." She gave a glimmer of a smile, not sure where things stood between them. She knew she owed him an explanation for Marcus, but did she really? Could he really have expected her to show up alone and watch him be married all night? It might have been a show but it wasn't one she cared to watch, even if she knew the truth.

"It's comfortable." Fitz wasn't sure how to broach things between them. He wanted to know who her date was to her, but did he have the right to ask? He was sure it was only because she didn't want to be alone, because he couldn't be with her the way she deserved, but was that all? Was she tired of the dreaming and promises? He thought he knew her, but did he really? He did. He knew he did. And knowing her meant knowing she was too good to wait for him. But he couldn't let her go. Not when she loved him so honestly. She made him optimistic and light, into the man he was before he learned how ugly politics were, back when he thought he could really make a difference in the world.

"I'm not seeing him. I only officially met him tonight. He's the brother of a friend and I brought him as a favor," she volunteered, looking at her shoes.

"It's okay," he replied. It was. He couldn't be angry at her when she'd been watching him be married for what would soon be a year. And she knew the truth, but that didn't make it hurt any less. It didn't hurt him any less each time he had to call her in secret, each time he had to apologize for some news article gushing about him and Mellie, each time he made a new promise.

"It isn't." It wasn't.

"It isn't." He knew.

"I didn't want to come alone."

"I know."

"It still hurts. Why does it still hurt?"

"I don't know. I wish it didn't." He walked to her, wrapped his arms around her. He sighed when her arms wrapped around him too. There was nothing sexual about the embrace. He just hated to see her looking so little and broken. The world knew the vivacious, unflappable side of her. No one ever saw the girl behind the bedroom eyes. No one knew the softness of her heart but him. He turned around and walked to the desk to set her atop it so he could lay his head on her shoulder. Olivia ran her fingers through his hair and he sighed. "I'm tired."

"Me too." They had talked about running away together, to any place in the world. Love gave them the right to be free. But where would they go? Where could they hide? She turned to kiss his forehead, noticing for the first time the sprinkling of silver at his left temple. "You're graying."

"Tell me about it." He gave a wry smile, thinking that she didn't know the half of it. His blood pressure was through the roof, he could hardly sleep, he hadn't given a genuine smile since he'd seen her last. It wasn't just his hair. His life was graying.

Olivia ran her fingers through his hair, listening to his heart thud in tandem with her own. She could feel life weighing him down. "Let's do something fun."

"Like what?"

"Let's dance. We haven't danced since your birthday." She remembered dancing in the kitchen in the refrigerator light in the house in Santa Ana, how he'd smiled as he hummed a Frank Sinatra song.

He let her go and went to his desk. He took the radio its hiding spot at the back of his top drawer. He set it on the desk beside her and turned it on, fiddling with the dial until music filled the room. He smiled almost boyishly as he bowed before her then offered his hand. Olivia laughed as she took it. Santo and Johnny's "Sleepawalk," one of Olivia's favorite songs, began playing as she wrapped her arms around Fitz's neck. She had made him a special record of her singing the song that no one else in the world possessed but the version playing on the radio didn't have the lyrics. The song wasn't long, only about two and half minutes, but it was all they needed. It was all Fitz wanted, a dance with the woman he loved on what should have been the happiest night of his life. He felt the noose on his neck loosening, if only for a moment. Olivia had never been more content. His arms, his scent, the familiarity of the song. Everything was just right, something she didn't get very often.

When the song was over, Fitz held her for a moment longer before letting her go. "Do you think anyone has noticed that I'm missing?"

"I'm sure they will soon. And I should be going. I've got a long flight in the morning."

"Can I call you tonight? I promise it won't be too late. Or too long. I just want to tell you goodnight."

Olivia smiled. It was such a Fitz question. "Yes. I'll wait up."

She turned to head to the door then stopped, remembering what had happened between her and Marcus. "I need a ride home."

Fitz frowned. "Did he do something to you, Livvie?"

"Nothing I hadn't expected." She hadn't necessarily expected Marcus to say the things he'd said but she had been fully expecting him to offend her at some point in the evening. Every date she'd ever been set up on turned out the same. Marcus did, however, hold the record for offending her before they'd even had dinner-or a proper conversation for that matter.

"I'll get Tom to drop you off," Fitz replied. She nodded, the corners of her mouth still turned down. "Do you want me to have him killed?"

"Not today." She finally smiled and Fitz couldn't resist walking over to give her one last kiss.

xxxxx

Olivia's hotel room seemed even quieter as she sat in the sunken claw foot tub waiting for the phone to ring. She hadn't been the girl waiting on a phone call in so long that she'd forgotten how she used to feel such idle time. She finally got out of the lukewarm water, thinking that getting herself chilled and pruny wouldn't make the time pass any faster. In her room, she fished a record from her suitcase and smirked at it.

She had never liked Frank Sinatra until Fitz made her listen to him incessantly one day. She had been defiant and hated him for as long as she could hold out, but his smoky voice grew on her. Or maybe she just couldn't extricate the memories of laughing with Fitz from their soundtrack. She set up her easel and pulled out her watercolors, perching herself on the dresser. As she stared at the blank canvas, she tried to pick something that had struck her that evening.

After every event, she liked to paint one thing that had stood out to her: a glittering hairpin, particularly red lipstick, a nice watch. Her lips curved into a smile as she dabbed white paint on her brush to mix with blue. A particular set of eyes was what struck her the most that evening. She stared at her palette for a long time, crafting the perfect shade of blue. "Cornflower," was what Quinn had called it, but Olivia wasn't sure if that was exactly right. There was a hint of gray when he first woke up, and tinges of green when he was smiling, and a darkening to cobalt when they made love.

She was crafting his delicate eyelashes when "My One and Only Love," the only Sinatra song that she enjoyed without question, began. Olivia's hand paused over the palette, her mind drifting to Fitz. She wondered what he was doing, if he was thinking of her too. She guessed that he was making a toast, smiling with Mellie on his arm. And though she knew he'd rather it be her, it didn't hurt any less to think of them together. But she didn't want to dwell on that. She didn't want to be deflated when he called.

An hour later, she was leaning back against the mirror behind the dresser to consider her work. She wasn't sure if she was finished. She didn't want to add too much detail and make it look clinical, but she didn't want it to look cartoonish. She wanted to capture the essence of his eyes, like a fairytale prince but also like someone who could look into a person and see every crack that needed to be filled. The phone ringing drew her out of her thoughts. She pushed the easel back and slipped off the dresser, moving to the bed to answer it.

"Hi," she said, already knowing who was calling.

"Hi," he replied.

"Is the party over?"

"Mostly. I left." She guessed he was in his office, away from all the commotion. "I miss you. I miss you all the time."

"I don't think I've ever missed anyone so much."

Fitz smiled. "Are you playing Sinatra?"

"No," she lied immediately. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Liar."

"What are you up to, Mr. President?"

"Reading this book you forgot."

"You have my copy of The Colossus?" she exclaimed. "I turned my house upside down looking for that book!"

"You left it in the nightstand at the hotel. If I had known it was so important, I'd have gotten it back to you immediately." He ran his fingers over the cover's raised lettering. "It's actually not a bad read."

"I don't think Sylvia Plath could write anything bad if she tried."

"I've found some of her other stuff. I really like that one poem, "Lady Lazarus." It's got a kind of dark humor to it." He absently flipped through the book. "What's your favorite poem?"

"It's not one in that book. It's called "Mad Girl's Love Song." Have you read it yet?"

"No."

"It's the only poem I know by heart."

"Tell me." He leaned back in his chair, turning to look out the window behind his desk to look at the night sky.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

"That's intense," he said when she finished.

"Sylvia's intense. It's what I like best about her."

"I miss you. I don't know why I can't stop saying that."

"Because it's true. It's the truest thing I've ever heard."

XXXXX

Los Angeles · March 1963

"What time is your flight tomorrow?" Fitz sat on the balcony of his hotel room in Los Angeles, having just gotten back from a visit to a local elementary school where the students had received the highest test scores in the country. Being around them had been bittersweet, making his think about the lack of children in his own life. But Mellie wasn't mother material, and he refused to have show children. The official story was that she was reproductively challenged.

He hoped Olivia had a late flight so he could see her, even if it was only for a little while.

"Well hello to you, Mr. President. I'm lovely. Thank you for asking." She laughed softly. "My flight is at six. You know how I feel about early flights."

"How would you like to play golf at a presidential country club?"

"I can't play."

"I can teach you."

Olivia smiled. "That sounds nice. Will you be sending a car for me?"

"As always, ma'am."

XXXXX

The Next Day

Fitz smiled at the sight of the town car arriving at the country club's private entrance. He nodded at the agent who emerged from it then went around to open the back door. Olivia smiled at him as she emerged, wearing a white sundress and a wide-brimmed sunhat.

"Hi." He couldn't move his smile.

Olivia removed her sunglasses as she came to a stop before him. "Hi."

"You look beautiful," he complimented.

"Well I heard this is where the big shots hang out so I had to look my best." She smiled teasingly. "You know, I heard the president is coming."

"Good. He owes me money." He smiled at making her laugh. "Are you hungry?"

"No. Quinn and I had lunch a little while ago."

Fitz offered his arm. "Shall we?"

"Lets." Olivia took his arm and Fitz led her to the cart where an agent was waiting for them. Fitz held her hand as she stepped onto the cart then joined her.

"So have you ever played golf at all?"

"A few times. I never really mastered it."

"So then I'll be winning today?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that, Mr. President." Olivia smiled.

They came to a stop at the first hole and Olivia climbed out of the cart. She smiled as Fitz unloaded his clubs, picking out a small putter for her. He set up the ball on the tee then handed her the club. Olivia examined it. "I've never used this one. I always get the big one."

Fitz chuckled. "This one's much easier for a woman to use."

He moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her, placing his hands over hers. "Since it's not windy today, you won't have to account for that. Just spot the hole and estimate the force you'll need. This hole isn't that far away so it' an easy putt."

He helped her swing and Olivia squealed when she got a hole in one. Fitz smiled and popped the tip of her nose with his index finger. "You're welcome."

"I did that by myself! You're just in the way," she replied with a smile.

They played a few more holes and Olivia found she was better at golf than the last time she'd tried it, guessing it was the smaller club. When it began to drizzle, they decided to cut the game short and go into the club for a late lunch. Olivia was surprised to find the place so crowded in the middle of the day. She looked at Fitz. "Maybe we should go. This seems like the kind of thing that would get back to your wife."

"My wife and I have a different kind of marriage," Fitz replied. "She's, uh, involved with a friend of ours. We haven't been traditionally married in a long time."

Olivia wasn't sure what to make of the revelation about America's First Couple. She looked down at her menu. "I think I'm in the mood for seafood."

"Seafood sounds good." He wasn't sure what to make of her side-stepping the comment about his marriage, if she even cared.

They placed their orders and Fitz found himself watching Olivia as she ate her fruit salad. He had never imagined he'd be so content with anyone that he could sit and watch them eat lunch. "This is nice."

Olivia glanced up at him. "It is. It's a shame every day can't be like this."

"It could."

Olivia put down her fork and looked at him quizzically. "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged then shook his head. "Nothing. Sometimes I just… Forget it."

"No. Tell me."

"I've just been thinking that I haven't been happy in a long time. I can't even remember being happy before you. There might have been one summer, before Princeton took my dad up on his legacy bullshit to get me admitted and I met Mellie, but that was 25 years ago." He sighed, his hand going to the silver patch at his left temple. "God, it's been 25 years since my father ruined my life. How did so much time pass?"

Olivia shrugged. "Life has a tendency of going on with or without our consent. What did you want to do before you became a future president?"

"Well I wanted to be an actor, then an astronaut, then a teacher, then… I don't know. I just got on the presidential track and let everything go. Decisions seemed to make themselves." Fitz sipped his water. "I don't think I can wait four more years to be happy, Liv. I'm 45, and with blood pressure like mine, I might only have another ten to fifteen years left."

"Oh that's nonsense. My father's been living with high blood pressure since I was 5 and he's still kicking. You've just got to cut yourself some slack."

"Okay so maybe I've got more time than that, but I'm tired of waiting to have everything. When I was Princeton, my mom said I'd be happy once I was in grad school and I wasn't. When I was at Yale, my dad said I'd feel better about everything once I got out of college and had some real control. Neither of those things happened. When I was engaged to Mellie, everyone said things would be better after we got married. They weren't. It's been twenty years and they still aren't. Every time I ran for an office, everyone said it would be better after I won and it never was. I'm almost an old man and I'm still waiting for happiness I'm starting to think I'll never get."

"So what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. That's not true. I know. I want to quit and do whatever I want. I want to marry you and have children and a beach house and real Sunday dinners. But I can't be so selfish, can I?"

Olivia rubbed the back of his hand. "You could, but you won't. You're not that kind of man. And you're making such a difference. You can't just want to stop."

"I don't want to stop, but I don't want to look around one day and realize I've never had good times. I don't want to end up old and bitter with nothing to show for my life except a presidency that I didn't want to begin with."

Olivia gave a wry smile. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown."

Fitz finally laughed. "I think I'm just having a bad week."

"It happens to the best of us, believe me."

"Let's talk about something else. What are you going to do when you get back to L.A.?"

"I've got two days to rest before I head back to Manhattan to do a magazine shoot."

"Playboy?" he asked with a grin.

"That's still in negotiations. He did send me one of those outfits though."

"What color is it?" Fitz could only imagine what she looked like the costume.

"White, with the cutest little tail." She grinned impishly. "I'll have to show you some time."

xxxxx

Olivia's smile was bittersweet as her car came to a stop at the airport. Because she'd missed her flight, Fitz had graciously given the presidential plane to accommodate her. Olivia had tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent since he had to stay in L.A. for a few more days with Mellie while she visited some orphanages and cavorted with Andrew. They sat in the car and looked at each other, neither wanting to say goodbye first. Olivia rubbed his knee, made his face relax. "Can I call you when I get to my hotel?"

"Yes. I'll wait up." He smiled and brought her hand to his lips to kiss her fingertips. "When can I see you again?"

"I'll be back here in a week." Her smile twitched. "But you'll be gone by then."

"I've got to go to Houston next week." He squeezed her knee. "I'll call you every night though."

Olivia scooted close and lay her head on his shoulder. "Kiss me."

Fitz lifted her head and kissed her, pulling her partially on top of him and wrapping his arms around her. Olivia twined her fingers in his hair, trying to get her fill before she had to do without him for what would surely be a small eternity.

"I love you," he said when they stopped to catch their breath.

"I love you too, to the moon and back," Olivia replied. She quickly got out of the car, tears pricking her eyes. She wasn't sure if it hurt worse when she first saw him and knew how limited their time would be, or when she had to tell him goodbye without knowing when they would be together again.

An agent took her bags onto the plane then descended the stairs and stepped aside. "Everything's ready, ma'am."

Olivia nodded and walked to the plane, turning back at the bottom of the stairs to wave at Fitz though she wasn't sure if he could see her through the car's tinted windows. Fitz smiled as he waved back. Olivia got onto the plane and took a small note card from her seat before she sat down, fastening her seatbelt and looking out the window at the town car as it backed away from the plane before takeoff. She opened the card and smiled at his slanted handwriting. You're the apple of my eye. You're cherry pie. And oh you're cake and ice cream. You're sugar and spice. And everything nice. You're the girl of my dreams. A tear fell from her eye and wilted the corner of the card but thankfully missed the words. Olivia sighed as she put the card away and covered her face with her hands. Saying goodbye was definitely the worst.

A/N: The words on Fitz's note are from the Sam Cooke song "Nothing Can Change This Love" and the poem Olivia recites is "Mad Girl's Love Song" by Sylvia Plath. There was a little angst this chapter and there will be a little bit next chapter but the fluff will always be more prevalent.

Don't forget to review! XOXO