February 1964

Fitz stood before the mirror and adjusted his tie then turned to look at Stephen. "The tie's too much, right?"

"Just a bit, Gerry." He smirked at his younger brother, watching as Fitz took the tie off then unbuttoned his white dress shirt. "Why are you so nervous? It's hardly your first date."

"It is. There's no pretense, no event we both just happen to be attending. This time I just asked her to dinner." He went back into his closet and Stephen followed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay. Go sit down and let me find something. You're going to drive us both nuts."

Fitz did as his brother said, going back into his bedroom to re-comb his hair.

A few streets over, Olivia was doing the same thing, going back and forth to her closet while Quinn sat on her bed, watching her boss.

"Why don't you wear that black sweater with your cigarette pants?" she suggested.

Olivia shook her head. "That's too casual. I'm going on a date with the president."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Should I get out one of your ball gowns?"

Olivia smirked at Quinn over her shoulder. "I just wanna look good."

Quinn got up and went to the living room then returned with a large black box. "This is from Chanel's pre-fall collection."

Olivia opened the box and pulled out the black cap-sleeved cocktail dress. She ran her fingers over the dress's jeweled round neckline. "This is gorgeous."

"It really is. Now get dressed because you know he's never late." Olivia nodded and took off her robe then pulled on the dress, turning around to let Quinn zip it. "So where do you think you're going?"

"Probably dinner," Olivia replied as she went into her closet to get black pumps. She returned with two different shoes, one with a peep toe and an ankle strap and one with a closed pointed toe and bows on the heels. "Which one?"

"Closed toe. It's cold tonight. You'll need a coat too."

"Yes, mother." Olivia smirked as she went back into the closet for the other shoe and her trench coat. She came out and stood before Quinn. "How do I look?"

"Very Holly Golightly," Quinn answered with a smile as Olivia put her lipstick and keys in a little black clutch. She brushed her freshly bobbed shoulder-length hair.

"Do you think he'll like my haircut?"

"How could be not? You look gorgeous. And Glamour reported last month that everybody is getting it."

Olivia nodded as the doorbell rang. Quinn slid off the bed and went to answer the door. Fitz stood on the other side, flanked by two secret service agents. She smiled, feeling better about being around him since he was there so often.

"Hello." She stepped back to let him in.

"Hello," he replied with a smile as he walked in. The agents remained outside, standing on either side of the door. "Is she ready?"

"She said to give her five minutes."

Fitz nodded, knowing that was at least ten minutes, as he walked into the kitchen and got a can of Coke out of the refrigerator. He sat on the couch and Quinn sat on a chair. "So, Olivia tells me you have an older brother. What's he like?"

"Stevie is really fun. He sails, he golfs, he's thinking of learning to fly. Unfortunately, he's not a Princeton man. He couldn't swing it. He had to go to Brown. Can you imagine?" He chuckled.

Quinn nodded. "He went to Brown? Nice. I went to Sacred Heart. It's in Boston, about an hour away from Providence."

"Fitz chuckled again. "The time he spent chasing Sacred Heart girls. I'll make sure to tell him I know one."

"Does he like brunettes?"

Fitz smiled. "Who doesn't?"

Quinn chuckled. "You'd be surprised. Most guys are going for bottle blondes these days."

"Not Stevie. I'll definitely send him by soon. He needs someone to keep him company besides me. No backsies, though."

"Okay, so how about Saturday afternoon? It'll give me time to get my hair cut and buy a dress. Maybe one of those cute little sailor dresses. Do you think he'll take me sailing?"

"I'll give him the keys to my boat if you promise to make sure he brings it back."

"I promise!" Fitz wrote down Stephen's number on a slip of paper and gave it to her, smiling when she squealed and leapt off the chair.

Olivia watched her friend prance into her room then looked at Fitz with a smile. "What's with her?"

"I gave her Stephen's number. Apparently she's very interested," Fitz replied as he looked her over.

Olivia smiled shyly. "Well?"

"I am a lucky man." He stood and walked to her, grinning like a schoolboy as he looked down at her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. "I like this dress. Is it new?"

"Yes. Chanel sent it to me yesterday," Olivia replied with a smile as he traced her jawline then the length of her neck with his index finger, raising goose bumps on her skin. "I know what you're up to, Mr. President, and it's not going to work."

"But it's Valentine's Day," he murmured in her ear, his tongue darting out to touch her earlobe.

Olivia laughed as she took his face in her hands to pull his mouth away from her neck. "No, no, no. We have plans."

Fitz's hands found their way under her dress, pulling it up around her waist as he kissed the hollow of her throat. "Tell me about it."

Olivia's stomach quivered and she knew her resolve was weakening as she squirmed against him. Luckily, Quinn skipped into the room with a shriek. "Stephen and I are going to lunch Saturday!"

Fitz gave a low, disappointed groan as he let Olivia go. She chuckled and pinched his cheek then turned to Quinn. "What happened?"

"He said he's seen me at events with you and thought I was gorgeous but I'm always so busy that he can never get to me. And he asked me if I liked yachts and if I'd ever been sailing and I said no so he's taking me out on the boat Saturday for a picnic!" Olivia wasn't sure she'd ever seen Quinn smile so big. "I've gotta get my hair done and get a new dress and new shoes! Oh this is so exciting!"

She darted out of the room as quickly as she'd entered and Fitz's smile disappeared as he looked down at Olivia. "Now where were we?"

"Leaving," Olivia replied, thankful for Quinn's interruption so she could regain her composure. She slipped from his embrace and tied her coat shut then turned to look at him expectantly. "Let's get a move on, Mr. President."

xxxxx

The drive wasn't very long, but for Olivia it was a half hour of torture as she pestered a serenely smiling Fitz to tell her where they were going. She sat beside him in the back of the discrete town car and put on her sweetest sad face. "I don't understand why you won't tell me. What if I get there and I'm overdressed? Or underdressed?"

"You look fine," Fitz replied, giving her knee a squeeze.

Olivia pouted. "Well that's not really telling me anything about what we're doing."

Fitz smirked as he leaned over and opened the small refrigerator before them. He pulled out a small bottle of champagne and handed it to her. "Why don't you drink this? Maybe you'll be quiet for a little while."

Olivia took the champagne and rolled her eyes. "I just think it's rude to ask me out then not tell me where we're going."

"And I think somebody's too used to getting what they want," Fitz replied, pinching her cheek.

The car finally came to a stop and Olivia sighed. "Finally!"

Fitz shook his head as the driver opened his door. He got out of the car then helped Olivia out. She squinted at the building in the darkness, wondering where they were, then looked around at the empty parking lot. She turned to Fitz. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere special. I wanna show you something," he answered as the agents walked ahead of them into the building. After securing the building, Tom held the door open for them to enter. Olivia walked into the dimly lit building. She could tell from the plaques on the walls that they were in some kind of government building, and she wondered what Fitz had to show her.

"Is there where you house the political prisoners?"

Fitz smiled, bumping her elbow with his. "Yes. We've got the best cell reserved for you."

Olivia laughed as she intertwined their fingers. Fitz led her down a hallway and Olivia looked around, trying to decide which building they were in. "Is this the Pentagon?"

Fitz shook his head. "No. The security protocols to get in there are unbelievable. You wouldn't make it through the metal detectors."

"Probably not. I've got a gun somewhere you'd never believe." She gave a cheeky wink.

"Planning to shake me down at the end of the night?"

"I hear you've got deep pockets. It's the only reason I decided to go out with you."

"Not anymore. I'm dating a movie star if you didn't know." They turned a corner down another short hallway that led them to a large round room where an illuminated case sat in the center. "This the rotunda of the national archives."

Olivia looked around the empty room. "What do you keep here?"

"Historical documents that aren't housed in museums: presidents' birth certificates, peace treaties, some shockingly old money, and other stuff like that. It's like Uncle Sam's attic." He led her to the glass case. "This is the most important."

Olivia looked down in the case and her eyes widened. "Is this the real Declaration of Independence?"

Fitz nodded. "This is it. This is nearly 200-year-old paper."

"I can't believe it's still in one piece."

"Well it hasn't been handled much in the last hundred years. Apparently at one point in the 1800s there was an actual rule against handling it with bare hands." He watched as Olivia looked closely at it, her face glowing in the overhead light. "Do you wanna touch it?"

She looked at him in shock. "I'm not touching it."

"Touch it."

"No."

"You know, only six people in the past hundred years have touched the actual Declaration of Independence." He smiled at her. "Be the seventh."

"You be the seventh."

"I'm the sixth. I touched it last month when I was looking for the perfect place to bring you."

Olivia turned to smirk at him. "You didn't wait for me."

He smirked back. "It's the Declaration of Independence, Livvie."

He watched as her hand tentatively hovered over the case before her middle finger brushed the ancient paper. She whispered, "Wow."

"Wow," he repeated, his gaze locked on her face. "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed, by their Creator, with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness… That's gonna be true soon. I get to make that true soon."

She turned to look at him with wide eyes. "It's a new world."

"It's a new world," he agreed, reaching out to caress the apple of her cheek. Olivia stepped closer and Fitz wrapped his arms around her waist. "I can't wait to do this every day."

"Just a few more months." Olivia held his face in her hands.

"But you're leaving me for Paris."

Olivia smiled sadly. "Only for a few weeks."

She was going to Paris to film a movie opposite William Holden. Fitz knew how excited she was, but he wasn't sure what he would do without her for a whole month. He tightened his hold on her and Olivia lay her head on his chest, breathing in his scent. "What'll I do/ When you/ Are far away?/ And I am blue/ What'll I do?"

Olivia smiled up at him. "You'll be fine, Mr. President. Plus me being so far away means we get to write each other long old-fashioned love letters. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Fitz finally smiled. "You wanna know what sounds really nice right now?"

Olivia giggled as she pulled away. "No, no, no, Mr. President."

Fitz persisted, pulling her back into his embrace. "I wanna tell you."

She gave a teasing smile. "I don't want to know."

"I think you do," he murmured in her ear. "I think we should go back to the White House, to my office."

"And why should we do that, Mr. President?"

"So I could take off all your clothes. I wouldn't kiss you, not yet. I'd make you wait for that. Then once I had you naked, I'd spread you out on the desk so I can see you, every inch of you. Then I'd start at the bottom, and work my way up, slowly, deliberately. And then once you were begging—because I wouldn't stop until you were begging—I'd finally kiss you, on the mouth, so you could taste yourself."

Olivia's face burned as she leaned against him, trying to remain upright on unsteady legs as she clutched his lapels. She half-whispered, "And then what?"

"Mr. President, your reservation is for nine," Tom announced, unintentionally interrupting them.

Fitz checked his watch. It was 8:30. "Okay. Have Hal pull the car around."

Tom nodded and left the room. Olivia exhaled a breath she hadn't been intentionally holding, then leaned against Fitz. "You are awful."

"And you're wet," he replied with an innocent smile as he took her hand. "But dinner's waiting."

Olivia bumped his arm with her shoulder. "I hate you."

"I could have you arrested for that kind of talk."

"You can't have me arrested. I know too many of your secrets."

xxxxx

The restaurant was completely empty except for the maître d, a single waiter, and a pianist sitting in a secluded corner. Only one table was set, glowing in the light of two long-stemmed white candles. After an awed greeting from the maître d, they sat at the single table. The waiter appeared immediately, holding a bouquet of orchids. He presented them to Olivia with a smile. "For you, ma'am."

"Thank you," Olivia replied as she took the bouquet and smelled them. She took the card off the wrapping paper and opened it. "You have bewitched me body and soul" it read. She looked at Fitz with a wry smile. "So you have been reading the books I sent you."

"A few. I'm still trying to get through Anna Karenina, but I don't think I'm gonna make it."

"You have to make it through. It's a beautiful story."

Fitz shook his head. "I read that story where the woman drowned herself at the end. Isn't that enough?"

"No. Finish the book."

The waited reappeared. "Would you like to see our wine list?"

"Bring us your oldest merlot," Fitz replied.

The waiter nodded then left. Olivia looked down at the menu. "What do you recommend?"

"I always get the salmon."

"I'm allergic to seafood, Mr. President."

He smiled. "Then I'll have to skip my usual."

Olivia went back to the menu. "I think I'll have the sirloin. But don't tell Quinn. We're supposed to be dieting before Paris."

Fitz smiled. "Your secret is safe with me. I think I'll have one too."

"No you won't. Steak is bad for your heart." She gave him a playfully stern look. "You can have the chicken, grilled, and a baked potato."

"Yes dear." He smirked as he put down the menu.

The waiter returned with the bottle of wine and filled their glasses. "Are you ready to order?"

"Yes. I'll have the sirloin, medium, with a baked potato with light butter and sour cream," Olivia answered.

"And I'll have grilled chicken with a baked potato the same way." Fitz closed his menu. "And for dessert, we'll have the New York cheesecake and a nice port."

The waited nodded and left. Olivia smiled at Fitz over the candles as she slipped her stockinged foot out of her left shoe then slid it up his leg. "So…"

"So?"

Olivia's eyebrows quirked. "This is our first date. You're supposed to be plying me with wine and your best stories in hopes that I'll sleep with you tonight."

"So what would you like to know about, the bank robberies or the insider trading?" Fitz grinned, his ears red. "Or maybe we could talk about how you're sliding your leg so far up my pants leg that you can count the change in my pocket."

"Maybe you could tell me more of that fascinating story you started in the archives."

He grinned, quirking his eyebrows at her. "I think that's one that has to be told in private."

Olivia continued snaking her leg up and down his leg, stopping to tickled the back of his knee until he jerked his leg away. She leaned forward and smiled at him "Well what could be more private than this? There's no one around. There's candlelight and soft music. It doesn't get any more romantic. Plus I'll need memories for Paris."

Fitz reached under the table and grabbed her ankle. "I can guarantee you more than enough of those."

XXXXX

Tom stared at his shoes as Olivia and Fitz stood before her front door. Fitz held Olivia to him, smiling proudly. "So was this the best first date of your life or what?"

Olivia smiled, wrinkling her nose. "I've had better, but the company wasn't terrible."

Fitz chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Did I do well enough to earn a nightcap?"

Olivia turned to unlock the door then looked back at him with a smirk. "Just one drink. I'm not the kind of girl to have after hours' company."

"Not yet anyway. We'll see what happens after the first drink."

They entered the apartment, quiet except for Quinn's gentle snoring, and Olivia took off her coat, tossing it on the couch, then went to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of wine. "You're out of luck, mister, we've only got one bottle of wine."

"One bottle has at least four glasses in it so I've still got two drinks to get myself invited to breakfast," Fitz replied as he picked up her coat. He picked up her coat to hang it up but stopped to examine the crystal butterfly broach on the lapel. "This is a nice broach. Where'd it come from?"

Olivia returned to the living room with the bottle and two glasses. "William Holden sent it to me. He wrote me the cutest little card. It said 'At least we'll always have Paris' like the line from Casablanca. Isn't that nice?"

"A little too nice if you ask me," Fitz replied as he hung up the coat.

Olivia frowned. "I thought it was just a nice present. Apparently he's been wanting to work with me since he saw Roman Holiday."

"I bet."

Olivia laughed as she filled their glasses. "Are you jealous, Mr. President?"

"Not jealous. Just concerned about this guy putting the moves on my girlfriend. He's admiring you from afar, sending you presents, whisking you off to Paris… I can't compete with that."

Olivia's expression turned serious. "Who's competing?"

Fitz shrugged. "Apparently it's Mr. Holden."

"And I suppose I'm as empty-headed as people think and I'll fall for him in Paris."

"It happened with the last girl he worked with."

Olivia smirked. "So the papers say."

"No smoke without fire."

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. "I think you'd better go."

Fitz's eyes widened. "You're kicking me out because some guy is hitting on you and I'm upset. How does that even make any sense, Olivia?"

"I'm kicking you out because you're implying that I'm some tramp who can't resist any man sniffing at her. Is that what you really think of me, or are you just lashing out at me because we can't have sex?"

Fitz's jaw tightened. He and Olivia hadn't made love since his heart attack, and neither of them had said anything, but the loss was palpable. "And that's such a great loss isn't it? That's all we are, right? Cheap sex in dingy motels?"

"It is if you're so worried about some guy I've got to work with for a few weeks."

"It's not just him!" Fitz shouted. "It's him, and that guy from the inaugural ball, and that baseball player you took to the Emmy's, and Brando, and Harry Belanfonte, and George Peppard, and Fred Astaire, and god knows who else! Oh and the French Duke that you met god knows where! Can't leave him out! You're the bell of the ball in Hollywood and you love it. It wouldn't surprise me if I was some cheap thrill holding a place for the next guy."

Olivia's face hardened into an expression he'd never seen, and Fitz knew he'd hurt her. He wanted to apologize and already the words were on his lips, but there were tears streaming down her cheeks as she scowled at him and he knew it would fall on deaf ears. "Get out."

He turned and headed for the door, only stopping when something small and hard hit the back of his head. He turned and looked at the floor. The ring he'd given her for Christmas lay at his feet. He picked it up and put it in his pocket, knowing she wouldn't put it back on. He left her apartment without a word and Tom hit the elevator button, not looking at his boss's solemn face.

They got on the elevator in silence and Tom finally looked at his boss. "Sir?"

Fitz shook his head, looking at his feet. "I fucked up, Tom. So bad."

Tom gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat. "You'll fix it."

"I have to."

XXXXX

One Month Later

April 1964

Quinn got off the elevator on their floor and immediately frowned at the sight of the secret service and the president. She had awoken in the middle of his and Olivia's last conversation, and like any good friend, had decided to hate him forever. But she had read his unanswered letters after Olivia told her to get rid of them, and part of her believed in his love. Still, he had hurt Olivia worse than two ex-husbands and a string of boyfriends combined. It was only right to hate him. Right then, Quinn put on her best glare and squared her flight-stiff shoulders. "You shouldn't be here, sir."

"I just wanna talk. She didn't answer any of my letters. I need to see her, even if it's just to get kicked out again," Fitz replied with sad eyes. He held up a brown paper bag. "I broke some NSA laws to get her flight information, and I bought her peonies—the pink ones—and Chinese food from the good place, and I even found that pink champagne she likes. I wrote her thirty one letters and never got an answer, but I showed up anyway because I need her, Quinn. I can't go another day without her. Please."

Quinn's eyes watered but she frowned harder. "You hurt her and she loved you more than anyone. She cried for a whole day after your heart attack, and you called her a whore. And she cried for another whole day. That's the one thing she's insecure about and you said it like it was nothing. You told her she was the love of your life then you… I… I wish she'd never met you!"

Before Fitz could reply, the elevator dinged and Fitz heard the unmistakable sound of her heels clicking as she stepped off the elevator. He looked away from her shoes to her face just as her eyes landed on him. "Hi."

Olivia blinked at him, not sure if she was more surprised at seeing him, or at the way her heart still leapt when saw him. "Hi."

A/N: *throws hands up in surrender* It's a cliffhanger. Don't kill me. But there's a happy ending somewhere on the horizon, and some flashbacks to how our babies spent their month apart. Don't forget to review!

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