A/N: Hi guys! So this is just going to be another one of those hurt/comfort chapters after something traumatizing happened to Liv, because on the show, she doesn't get any help afterwards. This particular one is set from when the bomb was detonated by Mary in 3x03 (Mrs. Smith Goes to Washington). Please R&R, and constructive criticism is always welcome!
"This is Congressman Struthers; we're coming out peacefully, in single file," Struthers said loudly, so the bomb squad could hear through the door. He carefully opened it, seeming less pale now that Mary had collapsed to the floor, crying, her hand no longer poised above that red button.
Olivia, who was reassuring that Mary would get the best lawyer possible, looked up, still holding Mary against her. "Let's go, okay?" She asked softly. Mary nodded, looking up at her gratefully through teary eyes. Olivia, grateful that the ordeal was finally over, stood up and slowly, deliberately raised her hands up. Mary followed her example, and Olivia quickly walked out of the open door.
Just as her foot stepped across the doorway, Mary shoved her, hard, and she went stumbling forwards. And even as she fell, Olivia realized what Mary was about to do; she screamed, ripping her arm free of the bomb squad member who'd caught her. She pounded on the door, desperate, twisting the knob to no avail. "Mary, open the door!" Her scream was sharp and loud, and she knew that Mary had heard. Still, the door remained closed.
When she felt the hand grip her arm, Olivia fought to remain next to that door, screaming; hands jerked her away-"Mary!"-She was being dragged down the hall-"Open the door! Mary-"-The door was getting further and further away, and Olivia knew with sickening dread what was about to happen.
"Noooo!" The gutteral scream erupted out of her as she strained against the bomb squad surrounding her, forcing her to keep moving away. And then, just as she felt one of them roughly grab her to stop her flailing, she was thrown forwards maybe ten or fifteen feet, slamming into the ground hard enough to cause her vision to dim and flicker; maybe she even blacked out for a few seconds.
When Olivia opened her eyes, she was covered with ash, and pieces of it floated in the air, coating what remained of the furniture. She coughed, dragging in a ragged breath, and-Oh fuck. Mary. Olivia fought back the bile that threatened to climb up her throat as she realized that now, Mary Nesbitt was no more than a little pile of dust, blown to bits with her own homemade bomb. Oh god.
She'd failed, Olivia realized, looking at her ripped coat and ash-coated pants, at the demolished room around her. Rough hands jerked her to her feet suddenly, and Olivia flinched before realizing that it was a bomb squad member who supported her, almost dragging her after him. A coarse orange blanket-for shock?-was thrown carelessly over her shoulders, and when she stepped away to sit on the bench, the man holding her didn't object and let her, walking away to report on what had happened.
Olivia almost wished that he'd forced her into an ambulance, to go to the hospital, because the thoughts just wouldn't stop. Totally still, Olivia felt the push over and over again, thinking that maybe if she'd just done this a little differently, or fought like that, Mary might still be alive. And so when Quinn showed up in front of her, harsh but apologetic in delivering her news, that Huck was obsessed with her father, Olivia actually welcomed the distraction. As it turned out, Huck hadn't killed Rowan, and Olivia managed to push away her own pain long enough to hug Huck, and then she grabbed her purse and left before she could break down too.
Fitz, his eyes riveted on the grainy video feed on the screen in front of him, clenched his hands into fists and tried to force himself to breath, a hard task when the love of his life was trapped in a building with a lunatic ready to detonate a bomb. Just when he felt that everything would maybe turn out okay, when Olivia and Mary and Struthers started walking out of that room, she saw Olivia stumble forward, herard her surprised and horrified scream, and felt his blood run cold.
Liv needed to get out of there now, at this instant, before that bomb went off. "Get her out of there," he growled into the radio, and his heart broke a little when the bomb squad started forcing Olivia down the hall, as he heard her panicked screams and then-nothing.
Fitz stared at the flickering grey screen and started yelling for a report on what had happened. As the other people in the situation room started calling for it, he stood.
Of course, Cyrus knew exactly where he was going, and barred his way. "Remember," he said, "I'm not going to allow you and Olivia Pope to share the same headline for the third week running." "She was your student, Cy. Like a daughter to you." And just like that, Cyrus moved wordlessly.
Olivia flipped the lock to her apartment and sank onto the couch. Her hair and face were both grey with grime, but she couldn't force herself to get up and clean herself off. When there was a knock on the door, Olivia lethargically moved to open it, not bothering to check who it was. She slowly drew the door open, and then her tired eyes met Fitz's concerned grey-blue ones, and it was like all her fight had left her; she simply didn't have the energy to turn him away, even after he'd made her lie to Mary, and so she moved aside to let him step in.
"Liv. Are you okay?" Fitz closed the door quickly and then touched her shoulder gently. Olivia, a 'fine' about to form on her lips, closed her mouth and felt something twist inside of her. For the past few months, she'd locked all her emotions away into a little steel box, and had closed it so tight that even she had had trouble unlocking it. But now, the sheer caring in Fitz's tone and the way he'd touched her so reassuringly seemed to open that box, and all of a sudden, Olivia was crying and crying and crying, and she couldn't even fucking breathe.
Get it together, Olivia, she thought to herself; why was this making her so emotional? She leaned against Fitz, who wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her back and murmuring platitudes into her ear. Olivia remembered him moving them to the sofa so they could sit down, and then saying, "I'm sorry," over and over again. When, after a long, long period of time, Olivia's tears finally stopped, Fitz gently moved to stand up.
Olivia's mind instinctively thought that he was leaving, that he had to go work, and she felt her chest tighten. "Stay?" God, she thought in disgust, that had sounded so disgustingly vulnerable, and-
But then, she caught the small smile Fitz gave her. "I'm just going to go get a cloth to clean you up with," he whispered, and true to his word, he came back a little while later with a washcloth from her bathroom, wet with water.
He tipped her head up towards him and gently wiped away the ash, the layers of dirt on her face. Her tears had left streaks through all of it anyway, but Fitz was so gentle and careful in cleaning her up and she was half-asleep by the time he finished. And then, he started to untangle her hair and unbutton her coat, laying his suit jacket on top of her like a blanket. It smelled of him, of the White House and that cologne he wore, and she was asleep within minutes.
When she woke up, Olivia had expected Fitz to be gone, but he was besides her, still asleep. Olivia watched him, and then remembered what'd happened the day before. She knew that she would come to terms with it, but right now, she watched the sun illuminate Fitz's face, and chose to stay in this small respite of peacefulness for the time being.