A/N: Okay, y'all, life got in the way big time the last month plus. Work might slowly kill me, it's cool. 12hr days are no biggie. Anyways, this is my apology, peace offering, and reminder that I'm still out here. I'm not going anywhere. This chapter is on the shorter side because a) wanted to get something up for y'all b) It felt right to cut here.

Good news though is that this was originally part of a longer chapter, which hopefully means I'll have the next chapter up soon (I can't give you an exact time table because we're in meltdown mode at my law firm).

So please enjoy this nice little interim chapter in the meantime.

Hopefully I'll be back soon.

-M

The third time's a charm, or so Olivia hopes as she stands in front of her full-length mirror taking in her reflection. She's wearing a simple cotton summer dress that fits snug at the top, held up by thin straps, and flared at the waist. It'd originally been her very first choice in attire, but as her bedroom floor could attest to, not the only one. Various articles of clothing from jean shorts to tank tops are spread from one side of the room to the next.

Every nerve ending in her body tingles with anxious energy. In her twenty-four years of life, she can't ever recall being this nervous over a date.

And she can't pinpoint the exact reason as to why anxious energy hums throughout her body. Is it the priest thing or is it something more?

The same something more she sees in his eyes when she catches him staring at her – the same something she feels when they're standing next to one another, their shoulders brushing together.

Or is it the fact that he's a priest - a man of the cloth - and she doesn't exactly fancy herself as an iconoclast.

Either way, she can say without a doubt, that Fitzgerald Grant does something to her. His mere presence simultaneously throws her off balance and into perfect orbit. He's a current she can't quite find the strength to swim against.

If there is a God, may she be forgiven.

Olivia's fingers twitch as she smooths over her dress and she drags her eyes up to meet their reflection in the mirror. She briefly wonders if her attire is too short (it cuts just above her knees) or too low-cut (she's barely showing any cleavage), but opts not to drag even more clothes out of her closet.

Fitz had told her to dress summer casual and a white cotton dress is the epitome of just that.

You look fine. You look good. Olivia reassures herself, smiling at her reflection. Butterflies flap erratically in her stomach and she can't remember the last time she's been this level of excited and nervous over a date. Has she ever been? Her dating history, if one could call it that, is abysmal in all sense of the word.

She's bedded more than her fair share of men in an attempt to do away with the loneliness in her heart, and has always come back lonelier than the time before. Could – would Fitz be different?

She's allotted little time to ruminate on the question when a knock on her door shakes her from her reverie. Her eyes glance down at the gold watch on her left wrist and the smile that tugs at her cheeks is imminent.

Fitz.

Bare feet carry her to her front door as she slides on a pair of strappy sandals sitting by her door and fixes the gold pendant around her neck.

Another knock and she laughs to herself at his impatience.

"Coming!" Olivia calls, reaching up to look out the peep hole. Her breath catches in her throat at the site of him. He's simultaneously dressed down and up. His golden blonde curls she's had fantasies of tugging on are expertly combed back, he wears tan khakis and a white unbuttoned polo. They match.

She drinks him in, forgetting that she's supposed to be opening the door. He raises his fist to knock again, jogging Olivia out of her thoughts.

Knock!

Knock!

"Liv?"

Right, they have a date. She can't just stare at him unabashedly through a peephole all day.

The grin on her face only widens as she swings her door open.

"Hi." She breathes.

"Hi." Fitz responds.

/

This is his first date in nearly twenty years and his nerves are starting to get the better of him. The longer he waits for her to answer her door, the less he seems confident that he can go through with this. She's so young and vivacious, so full of life and what he suspects is love, and he's an old man. A man past his prime.

Olivia Pope can do better than him.

Olivia Pope should do better than him.

Olivia Pope is a vision.

The door opens and the smile is instantaneous and so is his greeting. One syllable never sounded so sweet before and white never looked so pure.

Minimalistic, simple, and stunning; those are the only words that come to mind as his eyes rake over her. The dress is snug in all the right spots and lose in all the others. Her braids are pulled back away from her face, but still hang down her back, and she wears little to no makeup.

Fitz has the strong urge to greet her with a kiss, pull her into his arms and never let go, but somehow, he finds the restraint. He's pleasantly surprised when she presses a kiss to his cheek, angling upwards on her tippy toes and he realizes just how tiny she is.

"Y-y-you look stunning." Fitz fumbles; he wonders if this is what love at first sight feels like. If his quickened pulse and hitched breath, the thumping of his heart and the sudden thirst in this throat is love at first sight. He doesn't know if he can take his eyes off her right now.

"Thanks. You look pretty good yourself."

Fitz grins, sticks his hands in his pockets, and ducks his head low so she can't see the redness creep up throat. If only she knew how long it'd taken him to get dress this evening.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, let me just grab a sweater and my purse." She disappears into the apartment for a few minutes before reappearing, a pastel blue sweater draped over her shoulders, and a purse resting at her side. Tan, blue, and white, he's starting to think this is her color scheme.

"Where are we going?" Olivia asks, excitement in her tone.

Again, Fitz's nerves ratchet up; now he's worried about meeting her expectations.

"Uhm, well, we're going to eat first and then after that, it's an adventure."

"Can I at least know where we're going to eat?"

"Yes, when we get there."

Olivia rolls her eyes, shaking her head as they head towards the stairs. "Well, at least tell me what route we'll be taking to get there."

"You must've not been any fun on road trips as a kid." He quips, her eagerness both endearing and just a tad annoying. She's a lifelong D.C girl, as soon as she gets on the train, he suspects she'll know exactly where they're going anyways, so he wants her to wait out the surprise.

"I've never been on one, actually." Olivia confesses as they emerge from her building.

The DC sun is high, the air warm. Thankfully the temperature is comfortable and not stifling. Fitz's brows furrow. How is that possible? Road trips are as American as apple pie. But before he can ask why she's never been strapped into a moving vehicle with annoying siblings or relatives, Huck approaches them. The man looks as uneasy, his fingers twitch at his side and he's scowling beneath his bushy brows.

Muscle memory leaves Fitz rubbing his jaw, a faint scrape mark still resting on his cheek. It'd taken him by surprise, the strength that the man in front of him had. Although he was stocky, Fitz had at least four or five inches on him; yet if they were ever in a dark alley together, Fitz doubts that he would be the one to come out on top.

"Liv." Huck calls and Fitz takes that as his cue to let them be. Nodding, he walks a few steps ahead, but keeps his eyes trained on the two.

He watches as Huck makes a few subtle gestures and Olivia bobs in agreement; a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes doesn't leave her face the entire time. Huck takes one of Liv's hands and her eyes widen, she shakes her head no, but the bushy man only closes her fingers into her palm. Fitz eyes the exchange, curiosity blooming in his belly. Leave it to this woman to inspire protectiveness in a man that looks a bit like a rabid dog. Whatever Huck's given her, she slips into her purse with a dramatic eye roll and then pats his shoulder reassuringly.

The entire exchange simultaneous makes him smile and leaves an ache in the pit of his stomach; it reminds him of an overprotective father and blossoming daughter. It makes him wonder briefly what it would've been like to have these moments with his own baby girl. He shudders those thoughts away, instead focusing on the agitated look on Olivia's face.

God, she's adorable; the perfect combination of sexy and cute. He could stare at her for hours; trace the slope of her nose, kiss the corner of her jaw, and cuddle her close.

"Okay, Huck! I'll be fine!" Olivia's voice shakes him from his thoughts. Fitz glances up to see her cutting the distance between them, a scowl on her face.

He pushes off the building, glancing back at Huck who's eyeing him warily. "Everything good?"

"Yeah, we're fine." she assures and for the second time that day, catches him off guard by slipping her dainty hand back into his oversized palm. She all but drags him towards the Metro stop, never losing pace and he's amazed by how far her little legs can carry her.

Again a grin breaks out across his face.

"Huck's just protective, that's all."

"I think I picked up on that last time we met."

She chortles and Fitz laughs. "I still can't believe he threw you."

"He did not throw me."

Together they move through the busy D.C streets until they get to the Anacostia station. The station is unsurprisingly packed for a Saturday evening and the sounds of a train rumbling on its tracks and nosey kids flits through the air.

"He did."

"Where did you even find him at?" Fitz questions in a bid to change the subject.

"This station, actually." they part ways as they both take separate terminals to the platform, and then meet up on the other side. Again Olivia's hand slips right back into his; the gesture catches him less off guard this time around. Fitz thinks of how he could get used to this. For some reason he'd expected her to be less open with her affection, but she's turning out to surprise him in more ways than one.

"He used to sit in here with a cup and watch the clock," she jerks her chin to the digital clock up above them on the platform. "I always brought him coffee because he looked like he could use it."

Fitz chuckles. Coffee. Really? "Only you would bring a man that mean looking coffee."

"He doesn't look mean to me; sad, maybe, but not mean."

How could she even see see his eyes to determine sadness?

"So how'd he move from the train station to your stoop?"

Olivia's gaze drops to the stone platform and she lets Fitz's hand go. She fidgets, eyes glancing across the platform, and brings her arms around her middle.

"I was coming back from my dad's up in DuPont late one night and not really paying attention to my surrounding. Three guys jumped me, one had a knife. They took my purse and I'd rather not imagine what else they were going to do…."

It doesn't take a genius to know what she's alluding to, but Fitz refuses to let his thoughts go there. He didn't want to imagine that happening to anyone, let alone her. His eyes dart around the platform, glimpsing the buzzing traffic and he wonders just how late she'd been coming home. Anacostia seemed to be a bit of hubbub for foot traffic. Why'd she been alone on the platform? He wonders what it'd take to get her to agree to let him be her train buddy for any more late night rendezvous.

"But Huck came out of nowhere. He was terrifying. It was only him and these three men; not small men either, and it was like something snapped in him. He handle them with a brutality I don't think I've ever seen before. He threw my purse at me and yelled for me to run, so I did. I didn't stop until I was in my apartment. I called the cops, but the response rate around here…" she rolls her eyes.

"I didn't sleep that night and when I went to work the next morning, Huck was waiting for me. Not a scratch on him. Rode with me all the way to Foggy Bottom. Stayed there all day and then rode home with me, walked me to my building. Rinse, wash, repeat."

Fitz doesn't know what to quite say. He's humbled by Huck's selflessness.

"Now he waits for me most nights. If he's not on the platform, he's on the corner. I bring him dinner. In the winter I try to make him take my couch for a night or two, but he's stubborn. I expect nothing less from a marine. Two tours in Iraq in this ridiculous war. I don't know what happened to him while he was over there - he doesn't talk much - but I'm grateful for him." she sighs just as the train rolls in, screeching loudly as it comes to a halt. "This us?"

Fitz nods and motions for her to get on and he follows suit behind her. He wants to tell her how dangerous it is to have a man she doesn't know in her apartment; tell her that he'd only been joking when he'd called her a real life saint, and stress to beware of someone exhibiting PTSD but he doesn't. They've only shared a short amount of time together, but he can tell that she isn't someone who takes too lightly to being told what to do. Plus, Huck seems like a good man. A good man in need of a shower, but a good man nonetheless. From the sound of it, he's had more than his fair share of opportunities where he could've hurt Olivia, but hasn't.

They take a seat on the long benches.

"My ex - Jake -"

The name inspires a spout of jealousy in Fitz that surprises him. He remembers the kiss he'd interrupted on Christmas and wishes he could forget.

"Didn't like Huck. Didn't want him around me; said Huck would hurt me. The feelings were mutual. Huck hated him." she laughs. "I can't turn my back on someone who could've died because of me. Besides, he needs help. I've finally started getting him to go to the VA, I can't leave him now."

Fitz shakes his head. She is a saint, a real life saint. "You're amazing."

"I'm not." Olivia insists, turning away.

The train jerks to a halt and one of her bare knees knocks against his. The deep brown of her skin gleams against the dull train light and he wonders what it'd be like to place a hand on her knee, and feel her soft flesh beneath his fingertips. He's starring. Again.

"Ahem." she turns to look at him, doe eyes bright, a knowing grin on her lips. "Is this us, and if it isn't, can I have a hint yet as to where we're going?"

"Nope, but after what you just told me, I think you're going to like it."