OK, I know it's been forever, but I've had the worst writer's block. And this one, this is for Roo, for snapping me out of it (and tolerating me while I was mourning the loss of my mojo). And thanks to everyone else who sent messages - you guys made it come back :)

9:03 am

She loves waking up to the soft rhythm of heavy raindrops hitting the glass dome; she loves watching them slide down the sides; she loves the way they cling to the edges of the colored glass until they're too heavy to beat gravity; she loves how the shadows dance across the room, how they dance across his bare chest. She traces one, it travels fast, it collides with another one, and she smiles. Her fingertips rest atop of his heart. He stirs lightly. She should let him sleep, she should, really, but he looks so damn adorable, all messy curls, and lips forming an unconscious smile as her fingers trace his abs. She can't resist him. She kisses his cheek, then his jaw, a feather-light touch of lips against the tip of his chin; his chest, and peppered kisses down his torso. A breathless "Livvy…" escapes his lips as her hand moves past his waistband. She looks up, her chin resting just above his hip, and smiles at him – mischievously. As she wraps her hand around his throbbing member and tugs, he inhales sharply and clenches his jaw. "Hi," before she's kissing a trail down his hips.

"Wait," and she looks up, rolling her eyes, "it's 9, Nur should have woken us up by now. Why isn't she up?" He asks, his voice laced with concern.

"I bribed Zo last night." And she's back to kissing him.

"What do you mean, you bribed Zo?"

"She's babysitting this morning, and in turn we're letting her pitch it to us today." She's lowering her head, but then he speaks again. She lets out a sigh of protest and shoots him an icy glare.

"But I thought we agreed she's not skipping?"

"Fitz, I need you to stop talking about kids for 20 minutes."

He grins down at her, running his hand along her side, sending chills down her spine, "Why?" She runs her thumb across his tip and with that they're done talking.

10:30 am

"20 minutes?" He chuckles softly into her hair, as his breath steadies. He feels her smiling against his heaving chest, her hand seeking out his, instinctually. Interlaced, perfectly, her slender fingers between his wide knuckles; her small palm resting in his, her pulse against the soft heel of his hand.

"It was 20 minutes," she retorts, faux-offended, "but then you started round 2."

"And then you started round 3!"

"No, I did not!" She props herself on her elbows, resting them on his torso, "You did the thing-"

"I did the thing because you did that thing!" And he gives her a knowing look, tilting his head slightly to the side as his mouth stretches into a serene smile.

"Oh yeah," and she rests her cheek on his chest again, "I did start round 3."

"Well in that case…" And he sneaks one of his arms around her waist and starts ticking her side. She erupts in laughter, her whole body shaking, her head rolling off of his chest and falling onto the mattress as she tries, feverishly, to retaliate.

"Fitz," she manages to utter between laughs that echo through the room, "stop it!" and she squirms, trying to wiggle her way out of his reach, but then thinks better of it. She reaches for his face, her hands cupping his cheeks, and she pulls him in for a kiss. She traces the seam of his lips with her tongue as her hands move to his hair; he parts his lips slowly, only enough for his tongue to glide out, slide over hers, into the familiar mouth – the warmth, the velvety texture, the feeling of belonging. Soft moans escaping, soft moans being swallowed. The shared breaths, the shared air – life being exchanged, breathed in, given. Immortality in a kiss.

She pulls away, breathless, biting his bottom lip lightly, "We should get up." She kisses him again, a soft peck, two smiles meeting. "We need to shower. We smell like sex." She slips out of bed effortlessly, before he can quite register what she's doing.

"You're starting again!" He yells.

"I'm not starting anything." She retorts, winking at him over her shoulder, "I'm walking to the shower."

"Naked. And swaying your hips like that." He catches up and wraps his arms around her, pressing her body against his.

11:11 am

"Are you sure about letting Zo pitch it to us?" He asks as he holds the door open for her. "I mean we agreed it was a bad idea for her to skip a grade, it seems unfair to let her do it, when we've already made up our mind."

"Well, maybe we should re-consider." She looks back at him, trying to discern what he's thinking. "Give her a chance to convince us. I mean, we want her to be normal and fit in, but if that's not what she wants, if it doesn't make her happy… maybe we should just hear her out, hear why she wants it."

He looks at her intently, then nods his head, "OK."

"I need you to mean it! Be open-minded about it. I mean her whole life has been turned upside down over the last few months, and I think she feels like she has no control over anything anymore, so I need to give her this; give her an opportunity to make her case. We don't have to agree in the end, but we have to show her that we care about her opinion, that what she thinks matters."

She gives him a pleading look – Bambi eyes and a quivering pout. "Oh, God, Fine!" He opens the door to the nursery and peeks in, "They're not here." She knocks on Zo's door, but no response.

"I just hope they're not cooking again." She says, as she speeds down the stairs. The last time when they decided to 'cook', she came down to the kitchen to find Nur in the sink licking the inside of a bowl resting on hear head like a helmet, reaching her shoulders and Zo laughing and filming her, in between checking on the brownies.

"Zo!" She calls out as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, but instead of waiting for the response she follows the faint laughter. As she approaches the kitchen it grows louder.

"Oh my God." She stops in her tracks, speechless, trying to grab Fitz' hand, pointing outside with the other one; her eyes wide. Unlike her he doesn't even try to stifle his laugh.

"Morning guys! You really slept in this morning." She says grinning, trying to figure out how much trouble she's in.

Cy looks up from where he's kneeling, giving them a knowing look, "Yeah, you really slept in." It only makes Fitz laugh harder, and she tries desperately to keep a straight face.

"What are you doing?"

"We're gardening." The girl replies cheerfully. "I was going to let her watch TV, but kids these days, they watch too much TV and they aren't inside enough, so I thought, why not enjoy the morning sun-"

"It was raining Zoey!"

"Well, why not enjoy the fresh air. And then Cy decided to fix up the garden, and I thought he could use the help-"

"From you two? He could use help from you?"

"Not so much help, as company."

"I see." Damn it, she's grinning. And she looks so happy. Damn it! She can't resist it. Not that face. She melts. And when Nur finally looks up she gives in and lets out a hearty laugh. "Zo, why is there dirt on her face?"

"She wanted to try what it tasted like!"

"Oh God!"

"I didn't let her!" She retorts with a grin, murmuring under her breath, "Once I realized that that was what she was doing."

"Ma! Ma!" And the toddler is wobbling towards her, outstretched arms, and a huge toothless grin.

"Oh, no, no, missy! I'm giving you a bath, before you're allowed to hug anyone!" And the toddler stops in her tracks, then starts walking backwards, laughing mischievously.

"Let them play for a little while longer while we have coffee." He says as he hands her a large mug, wrapping his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. "Then we'll parent."

"OK." And they stand in the doorway, looking out into the garden – content, happy – happier than they could have imagined, happier than they were in their wildest dreams.

2:24 pm

"Zo, can you set the table please?" She asks her from the kitchen.

"Already done." She yells over her shoulder, "Nur, can you say skip?" The toddler just giggles and claps her hands. "Skip?" But she just keeps on laughing, completely ignoring the intellectual aspect of the conversation.

"Zo, stop trying to teach her how to say – skip a grade – it won't help make your case!" He says as he puts the salad bowl on the table.

"That's not what-"

"Yeah right!" He kisses the top of her head, "Go wash up." And he grabs the toddler from the high chair and brings her to the kitchen sink, "How can her hands constantly be sticky?"

"I firmly believe she does it just to bug you." And as if to confirm the little girl claps her hands, while nodding her head. "Chicken's ready. Let's go eat." She pauses on her way to the dining room, turning around on her heel, "Fitz, she's fine, no need to give her a complete bath in the sink because she ate an orange. She needs to build up her immune system."

He turns off the tap, whispering under his breath, "I am not being overly protective."

"Of course you're not. You just want her to be disinfected 24 hours a day." She places the hot tray in the middle of the table, pushing a couple of plates back, to make space. "Zo, lunch!" She takes off the cooking mittens and drops them on the counter, before taking a seat. "And it's sweet that you obsess over it, adorable even, but Fitz, she ate dirt this morning – she'll survive sticky hands from eating an orange."

"What time are you guys leaving tonight?" Zo asks as she slides into her seat, reaching for her plate, trying to stop Liv from piling on peas.

"Nine."

"Can Ben come to hang out?"

Before she can answer Fitz is coughing furiously, trying to catch a breath, his face – red. "Sure, Zo." And he shoots her a look, but doesn't say anything, still unable to speak. "Cy will be watching you guys anyway, so just, you know, behave."

"Thanks." She says, bouncing off the chair lightly, straightening her spine in excitement.

"I really don-" But she kicks his leg under the table and he falls quiet, stuffing his mouth with another forkful of chicken instead.

4:48 pm

"Ok, she's down for her nap." She says as she wraps her arms around him, resting her cheek on his back.

"Well I'm almost done with dishes, and I think Zo is done setting everything up."

She takes a step back, looking up at his face. "Setting everything up?"

"Yeah, I think she made a presentation and everything." He hands her a plate and she picks up a tea-towel to dry it, leaning her back against the counter.

"Wow." She looks down, reaching for another plate, avoiding his gaze, "she really wants this, huh?"

"Yeah. You still think letting her try and convince us is a good idea?" There's a clear tone of disapproval in his voice, removing all doubt as to his position on the matter.

"I do. And I need you to jump on the bandwagon and trust me on this." She reaches for another plate, still not looking at him.

He turns off the tap and dries his hands, then lifts her chin up with his finger, "OK." He takes the plate out of her hands, "Let's go! She's probably dying to get started." He gives her a quick peck then turns around and leads the way. He pauses at the doorway, leaning onto the wooden frame, looking at the girl, nervously pacing, key-cards in hand. Liv leans into him, smiling.

"Ready?"

She looks up at them, somewhat startled and just nods her head, pointing them to the couch. Her laptop is connected to the TV, the first slide stretched across the large screen.

"Your two main concerns are social and academic and I will address them in turn," she says in a steady voice, drawing in a deep breath. "My school is fairly small, so I already know plenty of people in 10th grade and therefore would have no problem fitting in with them. Secondly, I've always been a bit of an introvert, so it's not like I'm leaving a clique behind, with the fear that I won't be able to fit into another one. Also, I have already switched schools and proven that I can adjust, and this will be good for me, a great prep for college, where I'll have to find my place in a completely new environment. Finally, studies have found that kids who skip a grade, have no social difficulties because of the skip, usually it's connected to high IQs, which tend to lead to introversion." She clicks a button and a graph representing the research findings appears on the screen. They both just nod their heads, impressed and slightly intimidated.

"Regarding academic difficulties. I have been taking college classes online for a couple of months now, so I honestly don't think that 10th grade will be a problem. I have a 4.5 GPA and that will not suffer if I'm allowed to move up. General concern with child psychologists and oppositionists is that the kids who are a top of their class will be demoralized once they're behind, but a) that won't happen, b) if it does, it will be a personal challenge to be the best one again, and it will definitely not demoralize me. But I really wouldn't worry about it. I took SATs for fun three weeks ago, and I got my scores yesterday-"

"You took the SAT? Without telling us?"

"It was just for fun."

"Zo, you have to stop lying to us!"

"I didn't think it was a big deal. I had the money saved up, and it's not like it was dangerous or anything"

"We didn't know where you were. That is dangerous!"

"I got 2200." She says, pleading, her eyes welling up.

"That's not the point Zoey." She says standing up. "You can't lie to us. Ever. That's not OK, it's not acceptable and it needs to stop."

"But-"

"No! We're done here. Go to your room. And you're grounded. No hanging out after school for two weeks."

"But-" She tries, desperation evident in her voice.

"Room. Now." She hisses out, pointing her finger in the direction of the stairs.

She grabs her laptop and marches out, stomping up the stairs loudly, letting out a dissatisfied, "Ughhhh!"

Liv collapses onto the couch, throwing her head in her hands. "Ughhhh!" He tries desperately not to laugh. They're so similar, the same mind, the same hot-headedness and stubbornness, unwillingness to show weakness and ask for help – the same. But neither can see the similarity, neither sees it as the reflection of herself, both too proud to admit their mistake. "I can't believe she lied to us!"

"To take the SAT, Liv."

"That's how it starts!" She says indignantly.

"What, first SATs, then drugs?" He chuckles lightly, massaging the small of her back.

"It's not funny!" She runs her hands down her face, her eyes closed, "It's like she's slipping away, turning into this whole different person that I don't know and don't recognize and I…"

"She's growing up."

"Well I'd like it to stop." He sneaks his arm around her waist and pulls her in, towards his chest, whispering a soft, "I know," into her hair. "She scored 2200?" She finally asks, trying desperately to sound angry and not impressed.

"I know. It's amazing!"

"Yeah." And she finally smiles; pride filling her up. "It was a good presentation, too."

"It was. She made some good points. We could go talk to her headmaster about it?"

"I'll call on Monday, to see when he's free." She inhales his scent, nuzzling into his neck. "Is this puberty? Because I don't know how much more of it I can handle."

"No, Livvy, this is just her being your daughter, a Pope." She looks up at him wide-eyed.

"I am nothing like that!"

"Mhmmm." He says, kissing her forehead, but she moves away.

"Don't mhmmm me, I'm not."

"Mhmmm. Remember how you informed me a few weeks back that you've submitted Look to the Stars for consideration for a Pulitzer?"

"That's not the same…" But she drifts off, a realization dawning on her, "Oh, God, she's just like me!" He just nods grinning. He knows her well enough to know not to say anything – it would either earn him another rant, a harangue really, or she'd try to convince him that he's wrong. It's the way Pope girls are – stubborn. "I should go talk to her." She says after awhile, but making no effort to actually get up. She's too comfortable in his arms. The sound of his heart beating is soothing, her blood is no longer boiling; the feel of his hand on her thigh distracting enough.

"You should." But he doesn't move either. Instead, he tightens his grip, lifts his feet up on the coffee table, throws a blanket over them, and closes his eyes, inhaling her scent.

8:05 pm

"Mom, get up!" She feels a petite hand squeezing her shoulder and a soft voice, as if in the distance, "Mom!" She slowly opens her eyes, only to realize it's dark outside. Panic floods her body.

"Shit! What time is it Zoey?" She feels him waking up.

"It's 8:05. You have to leave in an hour."

"Shit! Crap, I have to stop cursing. Sorry Zoey. Shit!" She jumps up, grabbing Fitz' hand, "Get up! We have to get ready!" He lazily throws off the blanket and props himself up, before being pulled to his feet.

"Oh, shit! I have to feed Nur first." She says halfway up the stairs.

"I already fed her. We're playing in the nursery." Zo says from the hallway.

She turns around and gives Fitz a nod to head up without her. "Thanks Zo." She motions her to come up, then wraps her arm around the girl as they head to the nursery. "I'm sorry I lost it. I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"I'm sorry I lied. I just… I figured you wouldn't want me to do it, because you don't want me to push myself too hard, so I just thought I'd tell you after I did really well."

"See, you can't do that. You can't hide things from me because you think I'd disapprove. We have to talk about it. Discuss. And maybe, you can change my mind. I learn a lot from you kid, every day, I like when you challenge me, I like when you tell me what you think, and I need you to keep doing it."

"Really?" She asks, smiling.

"Yeah. Really." She kisses her temple, "You're still grounded, but starting Monday. Ben can still come over today."

"Thank you!" And she throws her arms around her, pulling her into a strong hug. "I promise I won't lie again." Liv just chuckles and nods – it's the thought that counts, even if they both know it's not going to last.

She pauses at the door, "2200… That's amazing! I'm so proud of you Zoey."

8:59 pm

She slides into the car next to him, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"You look stunning." He's looking at her the way only he can, the way that makes her feel like she's the most mesmerizing person in the world, that makes her feel confident and loved, that makes her feel alive. A look that lights a fire inside.

"You don't look too bad yourself, handsome." His shoulders broad in a tux that fits perfectly, like a glove; his curls gelled, a single unruly one on his forehead, driving her crazy, making her want to kiss him, run her hands through his hair as she moans his name.

He picks up her hand from her lap and brings it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "Have you spoken to your mom today?" He feels her tense up and kisses her hand again, brushing the back of it against his cheek.

"No, crap! I called her this morning, but she didn't pick up, and then… I just forgot. I'll call her now."

"Don't. She might be resting. You'll talk tomorrow morning." And he presses another kiss on her soft skin, watching her process what he just said, watching the wheels turn inside her head. She just nods, then leans on his shoulder.

The car stops and the driver opens the door. She gets up and he just watches her as she moves. The backless dress that hugs her perfectly; the soft fabric that falls effortlessly and dances with her every step. She looks stunning and he just can't look away. He walks around the car, kisses her softly as he puts his hand low on her back, skin on skin – soothing. "Let's go schmooze."

They walk up the wide steps and through the double doors, into a busy ballroom. The music is soft, the chatter lively, the guests lost in it. She grabs a glass of champagne and he grabs a scotch, before making their way to a quiet corner.

"I feel like we should socialize."

"I don't want to." He says as he kisses her cheek. "I like talking to you. They're boring."

"They're your colleagues!"

"I don't know half their names."

"Well, how about, when we run into someone, you take a sip, I introduce myself, they tell me their names, and then you swallow and greet them?"

He's quiet for a moment, then he steps into her personal space and before she can realize what he's doing he's wrapping his free hand around her neck and lowering his head. His lips are on hers, soft and warm, familiar. She forgets about the ballroom and what's appropriate, forgets about the New York elite surrounding them and the fact that the room is full of journalists. Before she can think better of it she's opening her mouth, letting his tongue in, letting hers duel it. She sneaks her free hand under his tux, letting it travel up and down his back. She doesn't hear the music, doesn't notice the time passing, people and lights dancing. She doesn't notice anything but him. They break away, breathless.

"I love you." He says, leaning against her forehead.

"I love you too." A quick peck. "Now, let's go be grown-ups and work the room." She grabs his hand before he can protest and leads him towards a familiar looking pair.

11:40 pm

The sound of her phone breaks them out of the conversation. She reaches into her purse and nods towards the corner, "I'll be right back." He just nods OK.

He watches her walk away, the way her hips sway, the way her curls bounce, that special spring in her step; he watches her, enchanted, completely lost in her very existence. "Fitz."

"Sorry." And he does his best to peel his eyes away from her and focus on the elderly couple before him. "You were saying?"

"Egypt. I'd love to send you there. I understand your reluctance, but I think it would be a great opportunity. Especially since," and he gives him a meaningful look, "you know, the Pulitzer."

He's not going. He doesn't want to leave the kids, Cy, he doesn't want to leave Liv, he doesn't want her to worry. He doesn't want the stress, the running, the constant fear and adrenaline; he doesn't want any of it. But he can't explain it to them, this is neither time, nor the place. He looks over to Liv, hoping she's done and on her way back to rescue him.

She's still in the corner. She puts a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She furrows her brows. She's breathing heavy. He can see her hand trembling. He no longer hears what they're saying, all he sees, all his mind can process is her – shaking, as her phone falls to the ground. All he hears is a loud crash.

9:03 am

She doesn't remember him pulling her to the car, she doesn't remember the ride to the hospital. She doesn't remember the city lights flash by, or how desperately she tried to find the stars in the night sky. She doesn't remember the nurse's name, or running down the hallway, heels in hand. She doesn't remember him yelling at the doctor, or how hard he tried to silence her sobs. All she remembers is standing, looking into the room, her mother lying lifelessly, hooked to a million machines. She looked so fragile, so, so fragile – nothing like her mom.

She's looking at the window, but she doesn't see the raindrops as they glide down the smooth surface, as they collide, as they cling to the edges, before falling down. She lowers her head onto the hospital bed, next to her mom's hand. His tux falls off her bare shoulders, but she doesn't notice. She doesn't notice him put it back on; or notice him kiss her temple. She doesn't notice the doctors and nurses come in and leave. She doesn't notice the time passing. She doesn't notice anything, but the sound of thread breathing.

Well I hope that this was worth the 100-year wait. Review and let me know what you thought. The reviews really do inspire me endlessly, especially since I've been struggling to write anything for the past week :)