A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Thank you for sticking with my story. If it wasn't already so damn long, I'd probably call this chapter the end of Act One.

As it is, I'm going to put it on a small hiatus. I have professional exams to take next year which I need to start working for now. I'm going to try and give myself a couple of hours to write whenever I can, and hopefully I will post small updates or more 'interludes'. There is so much more of this story to tell, scenes I wrote right back at the beginning which we're not even close to yet. So please stick by me if you can! I will always try and write for you as long as you want to read.


Chapter 26 - What's Most Important To You?

Downstairs, everything quickly turns to chaos as the news spreads. They're all acutely aware of how damaging it would be for Olivia if their relationship was exposed now, in such an unpredictable and uncontrolled way. Fitz is on the phone trying to get through to his wife, pacing around, fuming. She's never seen him like this before and it's terrifying. Harrison has started to call as many media outlets as he can think of, asking for a heads up if any of them hear word of photos of her for sale; James is doing the same with both local and national newspapers.

It's so loud, and everyone is panicking around her, and it's too much - she bursts into tears. Abby and Henry are immediately by her side, helping her to her feet, escorting her away from the noise, down the corridor to her bedroom.

"It's going to be fine," Abby keeps saying, rubbing her back as they sit down on the bed. "We're all here to help you, Liv. We'll protect you."

And all she can think is: what about my dad? What happens when goes online tomorrow morning to read the news, and finds out his daughter is dating a married man?

Somehow, between sobs, she manages to verbalize this to Abby and Henry.

"Hey," Henry says firmly, "They won't know it's Fitz. It's far too dark to identify him."

"They m-might be able to identify h-him by his yacht," she hiccoughs, drawing in great big breaths as she tries to calm herself down. It doesn't work. The tears just start all over again.

"How would the paparazzi even know you were here?" Abby wonders, passing her another pile of tissues. "None of us would have tipped them off."

"Maybe it is Mellie," Henry says thoughtfully. "I'm guessing she and Fitz have a joint membership here. Maybe she heard he was planning something tonight. We already know she's suspicious he's seeing you."

"Does it even matter who it is?" Olivia asks miserably. "If the photos are sold they're out there, in public."

"Maybe Harrison can get them back for you. He seems to know what he's doing."

"Mmm."

There's a knock at the door. It's the man himself.

"Hey Liv, who is Fitz's lawyer?"

She gazes up at Harrison who's in full-on business mode, barely noticing her state of distress. "Why?"

"If it is Mellie, we need to nail her into this divorce and NDA before she has chance to do anything with the photos."

"She's called Jemima King. I can't remember the name of the firm. But it's Sunday night - she won't be working."

"She will, if we pay her enough." His voice softens at her look of total incomprehension. It's all too overwhelming. "Let me sort this Liv, okay? This is my job. Trust me."

"Okay."

His reassurance doesn't make her feel any better though. She can't get the image of Fitz out of her mind, of the pure anger on his usually-handsome face. It turned him into a complete stranger. He seems a million miles away from her right now, in a place she can't reach him. If it really is Mellie who's responsible, then it's his business and his alone. She won't get involved, even though she wants to scratch that woman's eyes out for trying so hard to destroy the man she loves so much.

She takes a deep breath and flops back onto the bed. Abby asks Henry to go and check on Fitz, to see if he'll come in. Then she lies beside her friend, taking her hand.

"What's most important to you, Olivia?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's a simple question."

Olivia stares at the low wooden ceiling. "My baby. Having a home, with Fitz, where we can raise our child together. And having all our friends around us, and my dad-" That makes her choke up.

"What about your work?"

She thinks hard for a while. "I love what I do. I've always wanted to help people, and once you've started, once you've seen how you can make change, you never want to stop. There's always more to give, always more people in need."

Abby turns to gaze at her. "Do you really think those are the words of someone the whole world will turn on?"

Olivia doesn't answer. Logically, of course she doesn't think that. But in her heart, in her head where she stores up all the bad things anyone's ever said about her, from kids in the schoolyard when she was seven years old to national magazines who've commented on her weight, who've questioned her dedication to charity work, calling her 'fame-hungry' - deep down inside, her emotions rule. Especially now, when she's so deeply in love and her pregnancy hormones are having such sweeping, unquantifiable effects on her body.

"You will always have a home with Fitz," Abby tells her after a short silence. "You will always have money, even if you don't work. You'll always have us. And as for your dad - I think you'll always have him too, Liv. He loves you so much. Can you imagine ever turning your back on your own child?"

"Of course not." The idea is incomprehensible.

"Well then. Even if things change for you, if you do have to lie low for a while, you will always have the things - the people - you care about most."

Olivia looks at her oldest, closest friend. "I love you, Abby. How did you get so wise?"

"Hey, I've always been wise. I'm like an owl." She frowns. "But a sexy one."

Olivia laughs, the first joy she's felt in what seems like hours. "You're a sexy owl? Right."

"Who's a sexy owl?"

It's Henry, entering the bedroom again. Abby flushes.

"No one," she says quickly. "Where's Fitz?"

"He's coming. Can I get you anything Liv? A drink, a tea, a hot chocolate?"

"A tea would be nice. Thank you."

"Abby, can you help me?"

It's not subtle but she appreciates him giving her and Fitz some space. "Thank you, Abs. You're the best."

"I know."

Olivia is still lying on her back when Fitz finally comes in, sometime later. She doesn't open her eyes. She's not sure she wants to see him, to witness that rage on his face ever again. She hears him closing the door, moving around the room, taking off his jacket and his watch. Then he seems to stand very still for a while, just looking at her. Finally, the bed shifts with his weight and he comes to lie beside her, pressed up close, his hand on her abdomen and his warm breath on her cheek.

"Livvie," he murmurs. He nudges her with his nose, his thumb brushing back and forth over her belly. Just feeling him there, so near and so loving, is making it difficult for her to breathe. "Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

And then a sob cracks her chest wide open, sudden and raw. She turns into him, burying her face in his neck, her body shattering in his arms. It's painful, feeling this much. She can't inhale and she can't empty out her lungs enough either. She's suffocating.

"Oh baby," Fitz is saying, over and over. He sounds distraught; horrified. "Ssh, it's okay. It's gonna be okay. I love you. It's alright, I promise."

He tries to draw back, to look at her, but she clings to him for dear life. This is the only place she feels safe enough to fall apart. This is the only way she knows she'll be put back together again, right at the very end.

It's a long time until she's cried herself out. Fitz is there through it all, as solid as a rock. He tells anyone who knocks to leave them alone, and even ignores incoming text messages which she eventually realizes might actually be important.

"Your phone," she says groggily, finally removing her wet face from his very wet shoulder. They're the first words she's uttered to him and he laughs, confused.

"What?"

She turns away and sits up, wiping tears from beneath her eyes, blowing her nose. She's embarrassed to look at him, now he's seen her at her very worst.

"You got some texts," she explains quietly. Her head is pounding. "Do you want to check them?"

He moves to kneel on the floor in front of her, taking her wrists, trying to get her to make eye contact with him. It's so reminiscent of the first time he told her he loved her, on the day she discovered she was pregnant, that for a moment she feels confused, like it's the same night all over again and no time has passed at all. How is it possible that those first few days feel infinitely simpler now, compared to what they're facing tonight?

"Olivia, look at me. Please."

He sounds so desperate that she has no choice. The bleakness in his blue eyes, the undisguised fear, makes the world fall away from beneath her. He can tell her it's all going to be fine but he can't hide from her - not now, not ever.

"What's happening?" she asks, dreading the answer. She feels like she wants to throw up.

"Nothing yet," he sighs, brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. "I'm so sorry I scared you. But I'm even more sorry you had to go through that just now. It was unbearable. It broke my fucking heart, Liv."

"I'm sorry," she breathes, feeling a fresh wave of sadness threatening to sweep over her.

"God, don't be. I'm the one apologizing, not you. This is my fucking mess."

"Is it her?"

"I'm sure it is. Not the photographer - Harrison thinks it was a man - but I'm sure she paid him. And she's not answering her phone. I've tried her parents, friends. No one wants to help me get in touch with her, of course, because they all know I've left her."

"Why does she want pictures of us?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. But when I find out, when I get a hold of her, I'm going to-" He stands up suddenly and starts pacing. "I want to kill her," he admits. "I actually want to strangle her. What is her fucking problem? How could she do this to you?"

Olivia gets up too, following him, backing him into the wall. He's scaring her again and she won't let it happen this time. "You don't want to kill her."

"I do."

"But you don't mean it, right? Tell me you don't mean it."

He visibly deflates beneath her fierce, frightened gaze. "No, of course I don't mean it. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that."

"Sorry."

He chances a small smile; it's so sweet, she can't help but smile too.

"We're going to be okay," he says seriously. Is he trying to convince her, or himself? "You, me and the baby. There's a room full of people out there, frantically trying to help us in any way they can."

"A boatful," she corrects. "A boatful of people."

"That sounds like a lot, doesn't it?" he chuckles, resting his forehead against hers.

"It does. A lot of amazing people."

"Agreed."

They hold each other for a long time, centering themselves once again. Olivia is glad she got all her emotions out of the way, however horrible it felt at the time, because she feels so much more clear-headed now.

"Shall we go out there and face the world again?" she asks at length. "I need to talk to Harrison, to find out what his plan is."

"Okay. You might want to freshen up first, though. I think you're beautiful with mascara all down your neck, but I don't know if everyone else will."

She can't help but laugh, so relieved their light-heartedness is back. "Thank you, Fitzy. I won't be a minute."

After she's washed her face, she pulls on a sweater and a pair of leggings beneath her dress. Fitz leads the way back to the dining area where most of their friends are on their phones, talking animatedly. He pulls out a seat for her next to Harrison, who quickly ends his own call.

"What are they all doing?" she asks, gesturing around the table.

"They're phoning every internet site and blog they can find, hinting that you've been spotted in Long Island this evening. We're waiting for any of them to say, 'Yeah, we know.' So far, nothing." He turns to Fitz. "I think you're right. I think it is Mellie, actually. Nobody else could possibly know Olivia is here tonight."

"So, what's the plan?" Olivia inquires tentatively. "If it is… her."

"Well, I got a hold of Jemima King. She's finalizing the document which will split their assets as we speak."

"The original agreement," Fitz explains. Obviously he and Harrison have already discussed this. "She's not getting a cent more out of me than she's legally entitled to."

"Yep. And I've spoken to our legal department too, hurrying up the NDA. We're adding a clause about the photographs: that she hands ownership over to Fitz and cannot replicate nor sell them, etcetera.

"If she does try to sell them tonight," he goes on, "James and I have called in every favor we can with all the major magazines and papers. James will outbid any potential offers, or buy the pictures secondhand. Everyone thinks it's for a huge story he's running on you in the Times. I don't know if it will fly - I mean, it's the Times for Christ's sake - but if there's serious money involved, people soon find something else to print instead."

"Who's paying for-?"

"I am," Fitz interjects. "Whatever the price."

She raises her eyebrows. "Fitz-"

But he shuts her down. "Don't even try it, Olivia. I told you, it's my mess. Let me fix it."

She pouts, and he takes hold of her hand and laces their fingers together. "First thing tomorrow," he tells her, "I'm going to Jemima and Harrison's offices to collect the documents, then I'm driving to my old house to pick up the divorce papers and then straight to Mellie to get her goddamn signature on all of them. I should have done this on Friday night, as soon as we saw Abby's video. Then we wouldn't be here, desperately trying to regain the upper hand before it's too late."

"I think it's going to be okay." Harrison sounds cautiously optimistic. "We've covered every base I can think of. And if somehow the story does run tomorrow, Huck will hack into your father's computer and block any trace of it from appearing on the sites he looks at. It will at least buy you enough time to speak to him yourself."

Olivia releases a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. She can't think of anything else to add.

"Harri, you're a lifesaver."

Someone taps her on the shoulder. It's Abby, holding the card they gave her earlier, her eyes wide with shock. "Sorry to interrupt, but I've just opened this. An all-inclusive week in Barbados? Liv, Fitz. Thank you, but I can't accept it. It's too much."

"It's nowhere near enough," Fitz says. He sounds really tired all of a sudden. "You gave us the only way out of this, Abby. I'll send you on vacation every year for the rest of your life. I mean it."

"Seriously, stop." She looks so touched. Olivia stands up and hugs her.

"Maybe you can take a certain someone…?"

She looks at Henry, who is making his way towards them with her cup of tea. "Hey Liv. Are you okay? I didn't want to interrupt you and Fitz earlier, so I've just made you a fresh one."

"Thank you."

"Maybe," Abby says softly to Olivia, smiling at him.

The crisis seems to have brought them closer together; in fact, it's had that effect on the whole group. Quinn, Cyrus and Kim are sat talking quietly; James, Charlie, Kelsey and Huck are comparing notes on the people they've already phoned.

Fitz stands up and thanks everyone for all their hard work. "I think we'll drive back to the city tonight," he says, glancing at Olivia who nods. "If anyone else wants to stay on board and use our room, you're more than welcome."

"I hope they're gonna change the sheets," Olivia hears Henry mutter to Abby, who tries not to laugh.

"Likewise if anyone wants a lift back, we have space."

"Thank you for being here and celebrating with us," Olivia adds. "I'm sorry the night ended how it did."

Immediately, everyone protests. "You have nothing to be sorry about," James says firmly. "It was a fantastic day. I think I speak for everyone when I say that you two are the cutest couple we know, and you will make the most amazing parents. Also, I'd like to put my name in for godfather right now, before anyone else does."

There's a lot of laughter, and some grumbling from Henry. "What about Mark, too?" she asks Fitz as they pack up their room. "We have a lot of great choices."

"We do. Definitely Mark, though. I should call him tomorrow, give him an update. Hopefully I can say that the papers are signed…"

Olivia squeezes him tightly. "I think you'll be able to, baby." Seeing her friends rallying around them has given her such a strong feeling that it will all turn out okay. Maybe it's blind faith; maybe it's naïve hope, just to make herself feel better. Either way, she's making a conscious decision to try and be positive, rather than dwelling on cruel anticipation and utter helplessness. "I think we might just be fine."


It's almost one o'clock on Monday afternoon by the time Fitz finally arrives at his wife's office, ready to confront her. He had a sleepless night, tossing and turning, remembering Olivia crying in his arms and wondering how he'd ever survive that if it happened again. He wasn't exaggerating when he told her it broke his heart: it hurt all night long, deep in his chest. It still aches now.

He was also constantly on edge, waiting for his phone to ring, expecting to hear that someone had offered the photos up for sale or that James hadn't been able to secure them. Every time he did manage to fall asleep he dreamed they were going to print, that every website in the world was covering the story, and he woke panicking, desperately refreshing his Google news search, finding nothing new each time but still paranoid, tense and restless.

Both exhausted, they missed their alarm and he finally woke an hour later than he'd intended, swearing as he rushed to get dressed, not even kissing Olivia goodbye before dashing out of Henry's house to his car. Then he felt awful and ran back inside again, to amend his mistake and tell her that he loved her. The hopeful smile on her beautiful face made it all worthwhile.

Unfortunately, he hit rush hour traffic heading in to the city, and when he eventually arrived at Jemima's office he was so late she was midway through a two-hour client meeting. Her poor assistant looked everywhere for the paperwork he needed, clearly slightly terrified by how anxious he was, but she couldn't find it. As it turned out, an hour of pacing up and down her office later, Jemima had stored them securely in her safe. Fitz read through the agreement as fast as he could, recognizing most of it from the first draft, trusting that his lawyer knew what she was doing. When it came to pay her, his card wouldn't work. He spent fifteen impatient minutes on the phone to his bank, who had put a lock on his account over the weekend for some unfathomable reason that even the help center manager couldn't explain to him.

"Sometimes these things just happen," was the only reason she gave, and he laughed to himself even as he hit his forehead against the wall. Of all the times for such a random event to occur, this was the worst day possible. It felt like the universe was against him.

And that feeling continued for the rest of the morning.

There were roads closed enroute to Harrison's office due to an earlier collision; when he had the Non-Disclosure Agreement in his hand and tried to pay, his card was declined again. This time he didn't hold back with the bank and they cleared his payment within two minutes, offering profuse apologies, promising him the problem really was fixed this time and it wouldn't ever happen again, and we're so sorry Sir, can we offer you fifty thousand airmiles in compensation for your trouble?

(He said yes, of course. He'd use them to take Olivia away from this whole mess, whether or not their plan worked out.)

On the way to his house, he called Mellie's assistant to check she was in work. He wasn't sure if she'd told any of her colleagues about their break up yet so he was vague, just wondering what time he might be able to see her for lunch. "Twelve thirty? Great, thanks Francesca. But don't tell her I'm coming, okay? I want to surprise her."

Inside their huge, cold house, a place he'd never wanted to set foot in again, he searched for the divorce papers for almost forty minutes. Every drawer, every cabinet, every file in her office - nothing. He'd assumed they would be here, as she clearly had no intention of doing anything with them anytime soon, and why would she keep them at work where someone might find them? He was about to give up, his heart sinking, wondering how he could get her to sign them today if he didn't know where they were, when he suddenly thought to check her closet. She had so many purses she changed them almost on a daily basis, and whenever a set of car keys went missing, they inevitably turned up inside the one she'd used the day before.

He actually shouted out when he found the manila envelope, sweet relief washing over him. Finally, he had everything he needed. And still nothing from Harrison or James, still no whisper of the photos. This was going to be over. For the very first time, he actually believed it.

He phoned Olivia on his way to Mellie's office, detailing the whole fiasco. The sound of her laughter warmed his soul.

"Call me as soon as it's done," she instructed him. "I want to know the second you're mine, so I can remember it forever."

"I will, I promise."

"Okay. See you later. Good luck."

"Thanks Livvie. I love you."

"I love you too."

The adrenaline is pumping as he takes the elevator up to the law firm where Mellie works. Nobody really glances at him as he walks through the office, leading him to suspect they know nothing about their separation. Outside her door, he greets her assistant and knocks politely. He's late but, mercifully, she's still free. His heart is hammering against his ribs. All the anger he's been pushing down, trying to bury for Olivia's sake, is suddenly rearing its ugly head in a big way. How is he going to look at his wife and not throttle her? How can he be in the same room as her, knowing how abhorrently she's behaved towards him; knowing how much pain she's caused the woman he loves?

He almost wants to leave, to run away so he doesn't have to face her, so he's not tempted to do something really fucking stupid - but it's too late. The door opens and, with a deep breath, he steps inside.

She's stunned to see him, that's for sure. And just being near her, smelling her sickly perfume, listening to her voice as she says something inane, something like: "What are you doing here? You need to make an appointment, you can't just-" gives him such a strong sense of resolve to end this, once and for all, that he feels like he grows several inches taller.

"Sit down, Mellie."

He is absolutely furious with her, and she can tell immediately - but she doesn't obey.

"What? You can't come in here and-"

"I said sit down!"

He's never felt so enraged before. He's trembling with it, his muscles tense, preparing him for a fight. She looks afraid. Hesitantly, keeping her eyes on him the whole time, she circles her desk and sits behind it.

"Are you going to-"

She starts to gesture to one of the chairs opposite but he strides forward, ignoring her, and puts his hands on her desk, leaning towards her. If it seems like he's threatening her, then good. He is.

"Why are you taking photographs of me?" he demands. His voice is loud, and cold. Powerful.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Now answer the fucking question!"

She stares at him. She's a lawyer, cool under pressure, but he has one advantage the courtroom lacks: he knows her. He can read her. And he can tell he's right, that he's caught her off guard - guilty as charged.

"I haven't taken any photographs of you, Fitzgerald."

"Don't be facetious, Melody. You paid someone to do it for you. My question is why?"

She doesn't respond. He can sense her mind is racing, trying to think of a way out, but he has zero patience for her games - not when he's this close to being rid of her forever.

"Okay," he says, changing his tone, "Let me explain it to you, in case you've forgotten the details. Yesterday evening, a photographer spent some time taking pictures of me and Olivia Pope on my yacht. You sent him. Why? To sell to the press?"

She looks surprised. "I didn't get them to sell. I just wanted to know if my suspicions were correct."

Now it's his turn to be taken aback. "Your suspicions?"

"You were photographed with her that night in October. Then, the day you served me the divorce papers, you said her name on the phone and I wondered… I knew she was at the conference you went to in London. Is that when you met?"

Fitz doesn't answer. He's trying to figure out how all of that has led them to this point.

"I don't understand," he says slowly. "What does Olivia have to do with any of this? I asked you for a divorce. Our marriage was already over. I'd already left you."

"So it's true, then?"

"That I'm dating her? Yes, it's true. Although you obviously know that now, having seen those photos. How did you find out we were there, by the way?"

She smirks. "The club sent me an email last week, asking about catering. For the amount you pay them each year, they really need to sort their address book out."

"Mm, they do." Fitz thinks that might well be one of the last things they ever agree on. Then he steps back and begins to pace, trying to shift his brain into gear, to make this all make sense. "So what was your next move gonna be, Mel? What was your plan, after your suspicions were confirmed?"

There's a pause. "I don't know," she admits. "I haven't had time to decide yet."

He explodes. All this stress, all the anguish of the previous evening, and she doesn't even know?

"To decide what?" he yells, uncaring if the entire office can hear him. "Whether you're going to divorce me or force me to stay married to you forever? What kind of an insane choice is that? What is wrong with you?"

He doesn't give her chance to reply. His anger is boiling inside him again, hotter and more violent than ever. "You know what? It doesn't matter." He slams the three documents he's been holding down in front of her. "Sign these."

She frowns. "What are they?"

"Oh, you know damn well what they are. And I'm going to give you one more choice, because I'm nice like that. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

"What's the hard way?"

He smiles. He was hoping she'd bite. "Well, let me see. It involves a junior member of your staff, a late night in the office one Saturday and a sexual harassment claim waiting to happen."

All the color drains from her face. "What?" She's shaken. Fuck - it's going to work.

"Promising promotion in return for sex is illegal, Mel. Although I'm sure you know that, being senior associate in one of New York's largest firms."

"How do you-? I didn't- I wasn't being serious! It was just flirting."

"That's not how your victim saw it," Fitz shrugs. Maybe he could have been a lawyer too. It's quite fun, tearing a defendant apart. "And I don't think that's how your bosses will see it, either. I wonder what will happen to your chances for partner when they find out what you got up to right here in their office?"

She's gripping onto the edge of the desk, desperately trying to figure out if he's bluffing - if he really has evidence, if he really will use it against her - but he doesn't care. It doesn't matter. He has the knowledge to ruin her career, and she's given him the motive. She's backed into a corner. What else can she do?

"I could tell them all right now," he goes on conversationally. "I could walk of this room and tell every single one of your colleagues. They know Jonathan, don't they? They must have worked with him. I could march out there and announce to the whole office how I left you, and how you got lonely and seduced a poor junior attorney when you were being paid out-of-hours rates to complete a company audit. And then I could add on the fact that I'm now dating Olivia Pope, that I've traded you in for a younger model - because I suspect that's what all this is really about, isn't it? It's about your vanity, Mellie. It's about your fragile little ego. It's about the fact you can't bear the thought of me being happy when you're not."

He's being deliberately vicious now, and it feels so good.

"What happens if I don't sign today…?" she starts to say, her voice small and shaky. But then she sighs. Her eyes fill with tears. She's defeated. She has finally realized there are no more pathetic excuses left; there's nowhere else to run. "Fine. Fine."

She spends several minutes skim-reading the documents, while Fitz sits down in a chair and watches her intently, barely believing that it's about to be over. Her eyes widen at the NDA, the gagging clause, but she doesn't even react when she sees how little he's giving her in the divorce.

And then, finally, she signs all three of them.

She passes him her pen and slides the divorce papers across to him. He's so lightheaded with relief he can barely see what he's doing, but his signature joins hers on the final page and that's it. Their case will go to court and then… he'll be free.

"You were right," she says quietly as he starts to stand up. Every single piece of her armor has fallen aside now. He's broken her. "I was so afraid of being humiliated by you, by her, that I wanted to get to you first."

"How? By rinsing me in the divorce?" Reluctantly, he sits down again. He wants nothing more than to leave this office and never look back, but he also knows that there are still questions he needs answering, ones which will stay with him forever if he doesn't ask her now. "Would a few extra million really have made you that happy?"

She shrugs. "No. But I thought it would hurt you. I wanted you to hurt, Fitz. I wanted you to know how it felt."

"How what felt?"

She gazes away, and he realizes she's about to start crying. Seeing her this vulnerable is so embarrassing, it makes his skin crawl.

"How did we get here?" he asks, longing to look away but unable to, fascinated and repulsed by her in equal measure, like watching a really gory horror film. "We could have avoided all of this. I never set out to hurt you; all I wanted was to get out of a dead marriage. You pushed me to this, you made me play your dirty games, and I still don't understand why. Did you really want to stay married to me? Did you think we could possibly make it work?"

And then it dawns on him, as tears spill over her eyelashes and onto her pale cheeks: the horrible truth underpinning every single aspect of her bizarre behavior.

She still loves him.

After all this time, she still doesn't know what real love is.

He almost feels sorry for her - almost. But more than that, he feels disgusted. If she really did love him, she would never have treated him this way. Her love isn't a gift, or a blessing: it's completely meaningless. It's nothing.

"I would have been kind to you," he says, getting to his feet. Now that he's figured out the final piece of the puzzle, he can't stand to be in the same room as her a minute longer. "I would have worked with you to sell a story about our break up that was fair to you. You know I would. But after everything you've done, after all the ways you've hurt me and Olivia, I do not care anymore. I don't give a single fuck what happens to you now. And I never want to hear from you or see your face again. Understand?"

It's a rhetorical question. He's at the door, papers firmly in his hand, when he turns back with one last, malicious comment; his final poison-tipped arrow.

"Oh, and by the way - I hope Jonathan was good. I hope he made you feel something in your cold, empty heart, even just that one time. Because Olivia Pope is the love of my life. The things I could tell you about her body… The way she looks when she's riding me, the moans she makes when I'm fucking her… God, you have no idea. And I hope that every time you see her - and you will see her, everywhere, because she is so beautiful inside and out that the entire world is in love with her - I hope you think about me, kissing her, peeling off her clothes, taking her to bed. I hope you wonder what it's like to know another person's every secret; to need someone so much you can't breathe.

"And I hope, I really hope… that it fucking hurts."

Judging by the look on her face as he wrenches open the door and storms out, it already does.


He dials Olivia as soon as he gets to his car. She answers straight away, breathless. "Hi. How did it go?"

"Fine. She signed. It's over."

The way she squeals makes him smile despite the fact he's distracted, still reliving everything that's just happened.

"Was it her? The photos?"

"Yes."

"Why did she want them?"

"She was jealous," he says evenly, and it's not the whole truth but it isn't a lie, either. "She wanted to find out if her suspicions about us were correct."

"And then what?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. She signed the NDA. They're safe. We're safe."

"Oh my god, Fitz. Thank you. I can't believe it!"

"Neither can I," he says quietly. Then he sighs and rubs his free hand over his eyes. He's so tired he could fall asleep right now - if only his mind could switch off.

His soon-to-be ex-wife still thinks she loves him. It is pretty unbelievable, given everything he knows about love now. He would do anything for Olivia; he would even leave her, if that's what she truly wanted. He couldn't ever hurt her deliberately, even if she hurt him first. It's unfathomable; impossible. How did Mellie ever think that 'love' would allow her to behave that way?

He realizes the silence has gone on bit too long when Olivia asks tentatively, "Are you okay?" She can clearly sense his emotional distance. And he wishes more than anything it wasn't there, but the way he feels about Mellie is one thing he needs to process alone. He won't burden Olivia with the knowledge that she still loves him; her confession will forever be their final secret.

"I'm fine," he replies, forcing a smile, trying to push away such disturbing thoughts. "I'm just going to drop off the paperwork with Jemima and then I'll come over to yours."

"Okay. I guess I'll see you soon then… Drive safe."

He does, but for longer than usual. He drives until he has it all figured out in his head; until he's gone over every interaction with his wife over the last few months and he understands how each one led them to this point. He drives until it all makes some kind of sense, even though it still makes no sense at all. He drives until, at last, she's gone from his mind; until that door is closed behind him and all that's in front is his future.

"That's the end now," he tells himself out loud. "You're getting divorced. It's over."

And it is. It's over.

When he finally arrives at Olivia's apartment, all he wants to do is hold her. But she takes his hand instead, leading him down the hall.

"I called Harrison," she says on the way. "I told him what you told me. He's going to pass on the message to everyone else."

"Okay. Good."

In the kitchen, he's surprised. "What's this?" he asks as he takes in the table set for afternoon tea, the vase of fresh flowers with a wrapped gift and card leaning it. She passes them to him. It's only then that he realizes she's wearing the Mama Bird t-shirt he bought her the day before.

"Livvie, what-?"

"You sounded upset on the phone." She looks so young, so bare - but fierce, too. Brave. "I wanted to remind you what all of this is for; to stop you feeling sad."

"Oh, sweet baby." Could he love her any more than this? "I'm not sad. I was just a little… disappointed, that it had to end the way it did. But it has ended. That's all that matters."

For a moment, he thinks she's going to ask him more about what happened with Mellie. But then she seems to decide against it, either because she doesn't want to hear it or she senses he won't talk about it - or both. And then she smiles, and he knows that's okay.

"Do you want to open your present now?"

Out of the paper, he pulls a wooden picture frame containing the beautiful ultrasound image of their baby. He brushes his fingertip over its little face, a lump forming in his throat. And then he opens the card Olivia has written and it has an even greater effect on him - in fact, it almost makes him cry.

Dear Fitz,

I don't know how to tell you how grateful I am that I found you; that we found each other. I don't know how to explain in words how thankful I am for everything you've done for me and our baby. We turned your world upside down - and it's never fazed you. I don't know how anyone can be so strong. I'm in awe of you.

I hope you know that you turned my world upside down, too. I hope you know that it's the right way up now. And if you ever feel that you might fall off, even just for a second - know that I won't let you. I'll hold on to you forever and ever.

We love you, Daddy. Thank you for being ours.

All our love, Livvie and Baby G xxxxx

P.S. Will you move in with me?

He's speechless. He reads it twice and then looks up to find that she's blurry, his eyes filled with tears, his entire soul overflowing with love for her.

"Come here," he breathes, pulling her against him, holding her so tightly he thinks he might never be able to let go. How is it possible that everything in the world that matters to him can fit inside his arms? How can this one woman, and the baby inside her, be so precious to him that he knows he would go through hell and back to fight for them, a thousand times over? It gives his day exactly the perspective he needs: a divorce is nothing. The person he was married to is nothing.

This girl, their child - they're it for him. They're his new beginning, his happy ever after and every single moment in between.

"Will you?" Olivia is asking softly, pressing kisses to his neck, his ear. "Will you move in with me?"

He gazes at her for a long moment as the biggest smile spreads over his face. "What do you think?"

She cries out with joy as he lifts her, crossing the small kitchen, sitting her on the countertop. Her legs encircle his waist and then he's kissing her, passionately, his hands on her thighs, her hips, sliding up her spine, hugging her as close as physically possible. She moans, opening her mouth, welcoming his tongue inside - and he devours her. He can't get enough. As long as he lives, he won't ever be able to get enough of her.

Eventually, in desperate need of air, they break apart. Olivia is panting, her lips wandering across his cheek, down his neck. Her fingers are tugging his hair, playing with his ears in that way she knows drives him crazy, and he groans, pressing his erection even deeper between her legs. He slips his palms beneath her t-shirt, roaming over her back as he lifts it up, unfastening her bra on his way past. Then he's loosening it at the front, freeing her breasts. When he brushes his thumbs over her hard nipples she lets out a cry, her whole body tensing, her head falling back.

He looks at her, caught in the throes of arousal, with her cute t-shirt and even cuter baby bump, and decides that she has never been sexier than she is right now; that he has never wanted her more than he does right now; that he needs to take her to bed and make love to her right now.

So, he does.

He carries her to the bedroom and they kiss until they're naked; until his fingers are coated in her wetness; until he's lining himself up and she's drawing him in with her heels and he's fucking her as fast as he can, over and over, stretching her into a short, intense climax which makes her finally tear her mouth away, to swear and call out his name.

"I love you," she whispers as she recovers, holding his face in her hands, her dark eyes so incredibly expressive in the pale afternoon light. "I love you so much."

"I'm yours now," he replies with a half-smile, moving again, relishing the way it makes her eyelids flutter, her lips part so invitingly. He kisses them, tasting, teasing - and he doesn't stop. It's the kind of sex which is all mouths, tongues and teeth; fingernail tattoos and his hand holding her jaw and soft, shared sounds - grunts and whimpers and communication without words. And it ends just as it began: with two people so close they're almost one.

They fall asleep right there, exhausted and entwined. Fitz has never felt so at peace.

When he wakes sometime later, he leaves Olivia napping and takes a quick shower, walking around the warm apartment - their apartment, now - in his towel. He stands at the threshold of her office, down the hallway from the bedroom, and thinks about how they might change it into a nursery. Crib in the corner beneath the window, rocking chair beside where his gorgeous girl will sit, feeding their child, gazing enraptured into his or her little face. He can picture it so vividly it's almost real, right now, and his heart thumps with longing, excitement. Twenty-eight weeks to go. So far and yet, in the grand scheme of things, absolutely no time at all.

In the kitchen he makes two cups of tea and fills a plate with some of the sandwiches and mini cakes she'd bought for lunch. He carries them back to the bedroom and then returns for the photo frame and card, setting them up on his new bedside table. Olivia stirs as he sits down beside her, curling herself around his thighs, her head on his lap. He strokes her hair, her beautiful face, telling her how much he loves her, how thankful he is that she asked him to move in. He didn't realize the prospect of house-hunting alone had been bothering him so much. Doing anything alone now seems ridiculous, wrong. They are a team, a family. They belong together - all three of them.

"Let's go to LA now," he says spontaneously. She sits up, drawing his eyes to her bareness, her phenomenal curves.

"Wait," she says, getting up, pulling on her panties, heading to the bathroom. When she returns a minute later she straddles his lap and picks up a cup of tea, taking a sip as his hands come to rest on her hips. She's still considering his offer.

"Come on, Livvie," he presses, brushing his thumbs over her belly. It's become so instinctive already, he barely realizes he's doing it. "Let's do it. Let's go."

"But our flights aren't until tomorrow morning."

"I know that. But fuck it. I need to get out of this city. Don't you?"

She leans over, putting her cup down again, picking up the plate of food. She offers him a sandwich; then he feeds her, bites of cake which she licks deliberately from his fingers, her gaze playful but her actions so erotic he's already hard for her again. Her sexy smile informs him she knows exactly what she's doing.

"Okay," she concedes eventually, replacing the plate. "But do we have to leave right this minute? I mean…"

She moves even closer, rising onto her knees, pulling his towel and her panties aside and welcoming the tip of his rock-hard cock into her hot, wet entrance. Her eyes are burning into his and he can't breathe, he's focusing so hard on staying still, on letting her have control for once - this woman who already controls every single part of him.

"… Can we go in half an hour?"

She sinks down.


They finally leave several hours later - and that is more than fine by him.


End of Act One.