Adults are like children. No matter how many times you tell them not to touch the stove because it's hot, they touch it anyway and get burned. Adults demand the truth no matter how ugly it may be, but in the end, they're disappointed, running to mommy with burned hands. You have to childproof the kitchen at a certain point because they'll always see the glow of the fire wanting to touch it, knowing the outcome.

Abigail is that hard-headed child. She knew the dirt and grime of Washington and ran to the heart of corruption anyway. After today Abby and I don't ever have to speak again if she'd prefer it that way. It would be safer that way. I'm not sure how safe considering in my absence, she found her way to the white house. I've been home a week, and she hasn't tried to reach out, and my attempts were thwarted. I don't blame her for being angry; it's that I don't care.

Here they come now, Quinn practically dragging Abby across the quad. She won't look me in the eyes, and I still don't care. Quinn hunches her shoulder as a mother would. As I said, Abby is that hard-headed child.

"You don't have to say anything. Just listen," I say.

"Harrison was our family, and while he went missing, you were changing your name to Julia Baker and leaving us to fend for ourselves. How selfish could you be?" Abby stomped her heel into the concrete "I begged you to stay. For years I went over cliff after cliff. No questions asked and you-"

"I couldn't stay. Too much happened."

"God, Liv you weren't the only one affected," Abby says

"I needed to be selfish for once in my life. So I was. Harrison isn't on me."

"Your daddy got you some fancy-ass island, and you tucked tail and ran. If you were here, Harrison might've had a chance." She screams

I guess she wanted to get that off her chest for a while. "I'm planning his funeral. Come if you want to." I say.

"Liv, wait," Quinn came running behind me.

"Go back to the office, make sure the phones are working. I'm going home."

XXXXXX

My father said I'd do Harrison's eulogy justice, and I understand he said it as a taunt. But I've spent the worst half of today staring at this blank screen. It's pathetic. I can't think of anything to say about my close friend. Starting to feel like this whole thing is pointless; he can't hear me, he can't hear that I'm sorry or that I regret not saying goodbye before leaving. It's pointless. And right now, it's hard to ignore Abby's venomous speech playing at full volume, tainting my thoughts. God, if that stupid clock ticks one more time- or that ringing, calling from my last bottle of Du Bellay, crying drink me, drink me. I might scream. I zip to the sink, and red runs down the drain. A hint of regret hits me, but I know it's for the best.

"What the- Who is it?" I sit the bottle on the counter before going to the door. Bubbles play in my stomach at the thought of who's on the other side. The hem of my cardigan soaks up the sweat in my palm. I peek through the viewer.

"Stephen?" What the hell! I yank the door open, and it's him.

"I heard you could use a friend?" He says, and it takes me a minute to recognize the wetness coming from my eyes.

I appreciate the hug rather than him telling me everything's gonna be alright. It probably will, but I don't wanna hear that right now.

"How are you here?"

"Quinn filled me in. I'm sorry I didn't call before."

"You were living your new life, and I don't blame you for getting away and staying away. I wish I had that strength. How's Georgia?"

He got a sly smirk on his face. "I don't have that much strength." Stephen cranes his head around the room. "We're drinking?"

"I dumped it. What else did Quinn tell you?"

"That you've been gone for two months and that you and Abby fell out." He says. "You trusted your gut and got the hell out when you needed to."

I laughed at that because as I was boarding the plane, it was my gut screaming, no, don't, but I ignored it.

"Thank you"

"Come on, Liv, I'm always going, to be honest with you." He bumped my shoulder. "What have you done so far?"

"Everything but the eulogy."

Somethings up! Huck and Quinn are suddenly shuffling around the conference room, acting all spy-y. I think she spent too much time with Charlie and too much time trying to impress Huck. They're giving each other some kind of code stare as if I don't have glass doors. Then Quinn disappears into the foyer, and Huck moves to stand guard at my door. She comes back, and they nod to each other. Several heavy footfalls follow quicker but anxious steps. The secret service is here. He better not have come here after…

"These men could take you blindfolded," Cyrus says, looking over Huck's shoulder.

"But they won't," I say. "Huck, it's okay."

"I heard an old associate stopped by. Is he coming back?" he says, kicking his feet up on my coffee table.

"What do you want, Cyrus?"

"What you aren't gonna ask how I know?"

"Abby told you. Now answer my question."

He takes his foot down and straightens his posture. He gives me a serious look.

"He wants to know if you're staying?"

"Does he? Why is he sleeping in my apartment? There are enough clothes there. He wouldn't need to go back to the white house."

"He missed you." That's the most truth Cyrus has told since he got here. And in reality, I miss him too. I could have told him that if he'd stayed. But the minute we locked eyes, he looked as if he'd seen a ghost and bolted before I could get out another word.

"Who's idea was it to hire Abby?" I ask.

"You know whose idea it was because I found her lost, trying to recruit Leo Burgeon. I think he wanted to be the new Olivia Pope. L.B and Associates, it does have a ring to it." He chuckles. "They can't function without you." I look up to see Huck and Quinn staring right at us. Maybe he's right about this too.

I come from behind my desk. "It was nice to see you, Cy."

"Liv, it'll unfocus him. You are too invested not to read the paper. The President's numbers are up, and they're good. He's doing everything we ever said he could. Don't. Mess. It. Up."

"Bye, Cyrus."

He glares at my outstretched peace offering. Considering the manner, he barged into my office; it's better than nothing. Everyone keeps warning me that changed, but it hasn't not really. The people here are just hungrier.

My phone rings, and I jerk harder than I'd like to admit.

"Hello"

"Hello, sweetheart. I'm just calling to confirm something. The funeral starts at Ten o'clock, and your flight is at one-thirty. Don't be late."

"You're sick; please seek help."

When I was sixteen, I disobeyed one of my father's orders. He stonewalled me, and before summer ended, he shipped me back to boarding school early. I learned the hard way; I guess because he completely cut off contact with me. He showed me what it would be like to be an orphan. The entire year he ignored me, my birthday came and went without any acknowledgment, I couldn't go home for holidays. But after my year-long punishment ended, I went home with a different attitude. I obeyed. I was a good little girl. As far as he was concerned, I'd learned my lesson.

The island wasn't for my peace of mind; in his twisted mind, it was my punishment. So he could collect me and when, only when he permitted me to leave. I was supposed to come back well behaved and a good little girl. I don't do that anymore because that year I learned how to play him. What he didn't want me to know is how bad it tore him up, how his heart withered because I stopped calling after the first month. I don't need him as much as he wants me to need him. And that's his defect.

"Huck," I call out.

"Uh yeah?"

I toss him the phone. "I need it wiped and for my father to be blocked or restricted. Whatever you have to do because I need to teach him a few things about me."

"On it," Huck says.

I flip the bathroom light switch down and shut the door behind myself. Stephen's on the sofa looking at old pictures of us on Christmas eve. Honestly, I hadn't seen that picture in years. It was our first Christmas together, but we weren't celebrating the holiday; Harrison's probation concluded, and Stephen was reinstated by the bar. OPA wasn't on anyone's radar. The office still had the previous tenant's stuff. But none of that mattered because we all had one thing in common; no family outside of each other. A few months earlier, Abby went through the most brutal divorce I've ever handled, and she was still sore. For a minute, I didn't think she'd ever come out of the house again, let alone be the President's press secretary, but she persevered. I'm proud of her. Huck is still a work in progress, a lot better than he was six years ago. The point is we were a family, and it had nothing to do with blood or tradition. Because if I'm telling the truth, we ended up passing around a bottle of bourbon and getting so drunk we slept through Christmas on the floor of OPA.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" Stephen pulls me from the memory. I shrug and say the good days. He sighs as he understands, and then there's a couple of soft knocks at the door. He asks if I'm expecting anyone, and I almost let the thought of him behind the door cross my mind. I wouldn't know what to say because I feel guilty of all the people I feel guilty for leaving, it's him. The only thing stopping it from eating at me was knowing it was right. But even the right things are hard sometimes. I open the door, and it's Abby. Mascara smudged under her eyes. She holds up a bottle of bourbon and asks if there's room for one more.

"I'm sorry." she says, "I should've come before tonight. Seeing Harrison like that. He wouldn't want us to be at odds."

"You were there?" I ask.

"I came earlier before you guys arrived," Abby says. Then Stephen stood and started putting his coat on. "You don't have to go."

"You two should talk. Goodnight"

I just want to remind yall that I am olitz everything. But I really liked Harrison and Stephen, and I was sad we didn't get more time with them. I also wanted to bring Stephen back for this because he should have been at Harrison's funeral. But chapter III is already outlined, and it's crazy, so get on for the ride. I'm gonna try to publish once every week, but let's see how it goes with my work and school schedule. I think it's worth mentioning, that I wrote and published this story before. But it was different in terms of my writing style and I changed the beginning but there are a few similarities that my original readers might recognize.