AN: STOP! If you haven't read the chapter posted on Friday, go read that first, then come back here! If you have read chapter 8, you know what's coming... I hope you enjoy :) (tissues may be required...)

(TW for brief mention of suicidal ideation. Skip the section "November 12, 2015" if needed.)


God, she misses wine. Of all the times this pregnancy that she's uttered the sentiment, something about tonight in this restaurant, high on love and hormones, makes her crave it like nothing else.

She imagines they would share a beautiful bottle over their tasting dishes, until they are blissfully full, happy, and inebriated. But alas, they cannot, and truthfully that's okay. She's happy to just be here, holding his hand, talking about everything and nothing, and eating as much as she wants with no guilt attached.

It's been on the tip of her tongue the whole evening, but as he ushers her once again into the backseat of the car, she knows she's missed her chance to ask him. Everything about the dinner was simply perfect, and she couldn't find the strength to ruin it by bringing up such a sensitive topic. Maybe she'll mention it in bed or tomorrow after they go home or maybe not at all—as infuriating as it is to wait, she trusts him. She knows when the timing is right, he'll propose.

"Your brain is loud tonight, Livvie," Fitz comments, eyeing the way she looks out the window and chews her lip while thinking. "A penny for your thoughts?"

She smiles and tucks her head against his chest. "Oh, nothing. Just happy. You make me happy."

Kissing her forehead, he caresses as much of her as he can manage in the backseat of the car. God, he loves her.

"God, I love you," he murmurs into her hair.

Liv hums, the way she does when she wants him to know that she feels the same way. "This weekend has been…so good. Perfect, even. I–um–I'm not ready to leave…"

He grins softly, and she can feel his head nodding, chin nudging the top of her head. "We'll be back… I mean, it'll have to be really soon if we have a whole nursery to put together…"

She chuckles, tipping her eyes up to look at him. "Yeah, it will…"

And in the next breath, she reaches up and pulls him down to meet her, connecting their lips in a gentle, moving kiss. She hums at the way he captures her bottom lip between his, scraping softly with his teeth while he does. They share air and moans and the sweetest touches, until he pulls away much too quickly for her liking.

Just as she begins to pout, the car begins slowing down and turning down their private driveway. They are home.

Her eyes open again, and instantly she recognizes a shift in his mood. His eyes are warm, but his smile is tense now. His hand is fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, and she has half a mind to think he's about to be sick.

"What?" She asks, furrowing her eyebrows and looking at him skeptically.

Fitz closes his eyes and takes a noticeably large breath before opening again and reaching in his pocket. "I have something for you."

A sharp inhale. A tightening in her stomach. The flutter of nerves in her chest.

Then, exasperation and confusion and utter annoyance.

"What the hell are you doing?" She questions, lifting her hand up to stop him before he can take a ring out of his pocket and propose to her ridiculously in the back of their vehicle. Is he crazy? "You're not…not here. Not in the back of a car, which I assume is what you're about to do. No, you need to wait… Fitz… I—"

"Baby," he interrupts. "I'm not proposing to you right now."

Her eyes widen, embarrassment swelling in her chest. "Oh, I… of course, I don't know why I even said that… it was just on my mind today, and ugh—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"...Olivia…" He breathes, cradling her head in both hands, forcing her gaze to stay locked on him as he feels the car come to a halt. He kisses her once more before letting her go, looking past her right shoulder, out the window, toward the front of their house, a bright smile spanning his face.

Her gaze follows his.

And she is shocked by the sight before her, as her eyes land on the gorgeous display decorating the front of their house.

Candles line the edge of the driveway, making little pathways toward different areas like the front door and the rocking chairs on the porch. White flowers—roses and dahlias and lilies and hydrangeas—are scattered along the path, arranged in tiny bouquets, and affixed in quaint glass vases. Twinkling lights are hung overhead, illuminating the area even brighter, and her throat tightens at the spectacle. It's so beautiful, so elaborate, so over-the-top, so him.

When she turns back to look at him, there are already tears threatening to spill down both of their cheeks.

"Like I was saying… I have something for you," he repeats, this time pulling the item completely from his pocket.

And again, she finds herself surprised when it's not what she assumed it would be. It's not a tiny velvet box. Instead, he hands her a little blue envelope. The gold embellishments along the edges are a dead giveaway, yet it makes her even more confused—it's official White House stationary, the one that was selected for his first term in office.

"Fitz?"

"Shh, just open it," he encourages, rubbing slow circles with his thumb on her thigh to center them both.

As nervous as she is, as much as her pulse is racing, her curiosity gets the best of her. She delicately rips open the letter to find the matching card inside.


January 20th, 2009

Livvie,

They say this is supposed to be the most important day of my life. I guess it is, I'm becoming the President of the United States, but somehow it feels meaningless without you. I know what this means for us, that it must stop here, but I'm a selfish man.

I'm selfish because I cannot, I will not, give you up. And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry that I won't let you go. I'm sorry that it feels too painful, too hard, too wrong to do so. I'm sorry that I can't let you move on, find someone that can give you everything you deserve.

But I'm not sorry for loving you. These next few years will be difficult for us, I know you know that, but I promise you that my love for you will never waver.

I need you to know that I do have hope. I do see a future beyond these next years. Truthfully, I dream for a lifetime with you. I dream of being yours and you being mine. I dream of growing old with you. I dream of being your goodnight and your good morning.

Presidents aren't allowed to dream, so I leave this with you, now. My heart is forever yours. I hope someday, you are able to take it.


When she looks up from the letter, she's puzzled. This is…he's kept a letter from so long ago? He had written her a letter all those years ago, but never sent it? The questions swirl around her head, but instead of asking them, she settles on his eyes which are damp and warm and deep blue like the ocean.

"Livvie." His voice cracks through tears on the first syllable of her name, and it's the most heart wrenching and devastating sound. He clears his throat and tries again. "Livvie, I… I love you so much. I can't begin to imagine what my life might look like without you in it. You are my favorite person, my beautiful partner, my home. I…um… I wrote these letters to you every so often. I'm not sure why… but I thought that maybe I was saving them for a certain reason.

"I considered sending them to you on so many different occasions, but it just never felt right, until tonight. Until now. I want you to see that…that this—you, us— this is what I've been dreaming about for a very long time, so I've never felt more sure about anything. Ever."

Liv smiles through her own watery grin, placing a palm on his scruffy cheek and resting her forehead against his as she takes a shaky breath.

"It's happening, isn't it?" She asks, dumbly, and his face illuminates.

He nods. "Yes. It's happening."

As much as she knew that was going to be the answer, it still feels as though he may as well have asked her the question already. Her hands are trembling, her eyes barely able to make out the words scrawled on the note in her lap, her heart beating excitedly in her chest. She feels overwhelmed.

"Can we—"

"One minute?" He offers.

And it's the perfect thing, tucked together in the idling car, her head against his chest, her knee hooked over his in an attempt to squeeze themselves as closely together as possible. Their breathing is labored but more in anticipation than anxiety, like the culmination of everything they've been through is getting released in a matter of seconds.

When the minute passes, she doesn't feel nervous; she feels ready. Ready to listen and enjoy what he has planned and finally answer the question he's been dying to ask.

He leads her out of the car but stops her before they even make it onto the pathway leading up to the front door. That's when she notices another envelope, nestled amongst the flowers on the ground.


February 18, 2010

Livvie,

I bought a piece of land today. It's beautiful—quiet, spacious, lush. I'm having a house built. The plans are already in the works. It's going to be big, probably too big, but I want it to be big enough for everything that comes next. Big enough for our future together. I can't wait to show it to you when the time is right. I want you to love it. We've lived in dreams for so long, this finally feels like progress.


Her heart aches, looking back up at the very house mentioned, adorned with lights, sparkling in the night. Though it's very much real, in many ways, it still feels like a dream. That they are here, that this house exists, that they've weathered the storms.

A few more paces, another letter.


January 9, 2011

Livvie,

I still can't believe I got to show you the house. I can't believe that you like it, that you asked me to keep it. I keep picturing you spread out in front of the fireplace, my name on your lips, your lips around my… God. I refuse to accept the idea that that was the last time we will do that. Waking up next to you in our house, I refuse to believe that was the last time for that too. We'll be back. I don't say that as wishful thinking but as a fact. I don't know how we get there, but I know that we will.


And they did, obviously. She shoots him a sneaky smile at the absolute gall of this man to put something so sexual down on a piece of paper to keep around, even while he was still married to another woman. It's…chaotic and overwhelming and ignites a strange fire in her belly.

"C'mere," he beckons, intertwining their fingers and guiding her further down the path, right where the pavement forks, continuing in one direction to the side of the house and the front door in the other. "Can I hold you while you read this one?"

And she doesn't know why he asks, but she agrees, letting him step behind her and hug her body against his front. He kisses her shoulder, then her cheek, and then hands her the envelope.


November 15, 2012

Liv,

Where did you go? Are you ever coming back? I don't think I can do it without you here. What was all of this for if you were just going to leave? Did you think about our dream when you decided to go? I thought telling you, showing you the house, would make a difference, but obviously it didn't.

I'm sorry. The pain is too much, Livvie. I'm hurting so badly…my son… Our dream is the only thing keeping me alive, and now it feels like that is slipping away… I don't want to give up… I want to marry you. I want to have babies with you. I want a future with you… but I don't know if I can make it.

I love you, forever. If you ever see this, I want you to know that.

I love you, forever.


"I didn't want to show you this one… I didn't want to upset you…"

"Fitz…" She murmurs, flipping around instantly in his arms, tucking her face into his neck, and breathing him in.

"But I'm here because I knew even the chance to have a life with you was worth staying."

"I–"

There are no words to say. It's not something they talk about often, the pain too unbearable for either of them to utter, the thought that all of this could be gone if things had turned out differently. So tonight especially, they acknowledge how thankful they are that they are here, alive, and move onto the next letter.


August 2, 2014

Livvie,

It's just you and me now. You and me and the Truman Balcony and my bed and the shower and all of the other places we landed last night. Every inch of you bared for me to see. Every inch of you, mine. Every inch of me, yours. I wish I could wrap myself in your heart, like I can with your body—consume it, ignite it, hold it in my hand, feel it beat from the inside out. Sometimes I wish I knew your heart like I know your body.


"Ooh, that…um…" She clears her throat, turning to face him from their place on the front porch now.

Fitz smiles wickedly at her. "Did that one get you a little hot and bothered, Miss Pope?" He teases, sliding the hand at her hip down to cup her ass playfully.

"Don't distract me, mister."

He immediately hands her the next.


October 9, 2014

Livvie,

"Yes." You said it so easily, so simply, so confidently. It was the sweetest word I've ever heard come out of your mouth. I love you so much. This is it. This is our forever.


She grimaces as she closes the envelope again, knowing that that time wasn't their forever. Knowing how horribly it ended not long after that. Knowing how devastating it was to have it so close within their grasp, only for it all to fall away.


January 1, 2015

Livvie,

I miss you. I snuck up to the Vermont house last weekend. I hate myself for it… that I still believe in a future for us.


He's led her onto the rocking chairs on the front porch now, letting her sit and give her swollen ankles a break. Her heart aches, thinking about him walking through the house, alone, mere days after their most horrible break up, the things they said to each other rattling around his brain while he took in all of the thoughtful details he poured into this house.

Be your housewife? Your girlfriend? Your property?... and the wine cellar he designed for her.

How ineffectual you are… and the fireplace in their bedroom that he insisted on, so she would never be cold in the winters.

You're worse than her. You're worse than Mellie… and the little reading nook he built her.

Someone capable of being in a relationship. Someone capable of being normal… and the custom shower with extra built-in shelving for her hair products.

Someone capable of not suffocating me… and the landscaping in the backyard with the comfy couch to enjoy the view from.

There is no Vermont, there is no jam, there is no future… not anymore… and their bedroom, their suite, with the balcony to watch the stars on at night, the California king bed for them to share, the extra vanity space, the closet with more room for her clothing than his…

It's devastating and makes her heart lurch with pain for the amount of time they chose to deny each other. How far they allowed themselves to drift apart, how incapable they were of communicating their needs, how they let their attraction and love for each other blind them from prioritizing the health of their relationship.

It's a strange cathartic pain, one that makes her realize just how lucky they are to be here now, years passing, making them wiser and in turn, kinder to each other. Their love is stronger, their communication is clearer, their desires more focused.

They are the priority now.


August 5, 2015

Livvie,

I found your medical records. I promise, I didn't try to look for them, and in hindsight, I wish I hadn't seen them, but mostly just because all of this time, I've had this dream of what our future will look like, and now, even though we aren't together, even though it doesn't feel like there's much hope for a future of any kind, the image I've had seems to be one that you don't want. That's…devastating in a way, but not because you don't want it, but because I feel so stupid for not realizing that you don't. And I feel stupid that I still dream about it at night. I want you to know that I don't resent you for it. I told you that I support your choice, and that wasn't a lie. I hope we can talk about it together one day. I hope that you can trust me again.


She has to take a break after that one, too overwhelmed with the memories of pain and heartbreak, needing to consciously remind herself that they are not there anymore. They've worked through those hardships. She does trust him again.

It's hard to read about the rollercoaster of their relationship thus far, but somehow it makes her even more grateful for it. That they've survived. That their love is stronger than it all.

In the meantime, while she tries to take in every moment of the scene unfolding around her, Fitz is attentive. He's watching every furrow of her brow, every tear that escapes down her cheeks, rolling them away before they have the chance to make it to her chin. He holds her hand and rubs her back and reminds her that they are here.

The baby in her belly is proof enough that they aren't who they were back then. They did talk about that, about the decision she made, about what they wanted in their future, all through months of grueling couples therapy. And now, they don't have to worry because this—this—is everything that they both want. And they know it.


January 28, 2017

Livvie,

I'm here without you…in the house. It's awful. I thought it would be a good change of pace, but it makes me sick, looking at the bed I picked out thinking of how good you would look in it, looking at the places I thought we would put picture frames and art and books, looking at the rooms I designed to fill with children, though I know the possibility of that happening now is slim. It feels so lonely, so cold. It feels even worse because I still look at those things and think of you. I still have hope that they will happen. Which…is maybe a little desperate.

I've never given up on the dream, Livvie. One day, we'll be here, together. I know it.


Fitz sighs, inhaling steadily and taking Olivia's hand to guide her into the house and along the trail of flowers and candles to the backyard. She wants to punch him because the sight is just so over the top and cheesy and romantic and everything that she knows the Olivia Pope he wrote all of these letters to would hate.

But she's not that woman anymore.

The Olivia Pope that stands here now, on the thick grass, encircled with twinkling lights and the sweetest smelling bouquets before a small wooden table decorated with photographs of the two of them over the years. This Olivia Pope loves it. There are pictures from the campaign trail, the inauguration, that one Christmas that he snuck over to her apartment against her better judgment.

Most of the pictures come from the last few years. Their trip to Bora Bora, Teddy's kindergarten graduation, Fitz's birthday.

Atop the pictures is the final card, which he hands her gingerly, sliding in behind her and letting her rest back against his chest again while she reads. His thumbs rub circles on her hips while he peppers kisses along her shoulders.


October 14, 2017

Livvie,

We made it. Today starts a new adventure for us. One that starts with…well, us. We can walk away from the pain we've dealt with over the past years and start fresh. I've spent all of this time picturing what this day would look like, and now that we are here, I realized something.

I don't care what it looks like anymore. I don't care if we are in DC or Vermont or Santa Barbara or wherever. I don't care if we have kids. I don't care if we change the world anymore.

I care that I have you. I promise to listen to you and love you for the rest of forever.

I love you.

Fitz


"It never felt right signing my name to any of them…until this last one. I'm not sure what it was…like it felt too final, too complete. But then, I wrote this one, and we bought a house together, and I think I realized that maybe…maybe it is complete. I didn't have to live in limbo anymore, waiting and wishing and praying that we would be together. I didn't have to write down these hopeful confessionals because I had you. I could tell you how much I love you, how much I want a future with you, and I knew that you would stay right by my side."

His voice is smooth and deep, his breath wisping along her shoulder blades before he uses his grip on her hips to turn her to face him.

"I've waited a long time to do this, Livvie," he murmurs, brushing his thumb along her lips.

"I know you have," she sighs, and though she had intended it to be funny and a little teasing, it falls flat, only the truest sincerity lingering.

"I'm a man of my promises now, Liv. I promise to love and to cherish you every day we have together. I promise to support you and uplift you, be your biggest cheerleader and best pedestal. I promise to be there on the good days and the bad days and everything in between. Everything that we have been through together has led to this…it's prepared us to be exactly who we need to be for each other.

"You've made me a better man that I ever deserved to become. You have opened my eyes and my heart and my dreams of what life could be like. Somehow every day gets better with you. I love you so much, and I'm yours forever, pretty girl."

And even though she knows it's happening, her stomach seizes at the sight; his knee hits the ground, his hands open a small box, and there's a ring.

"Olivia Carolyn Pope, will you marry me?"

Oh god.

There's a ring.

It's the most perfect thing. She never thought she wanted an engagement ring until her eyes landed on this one.

Then it's sliding onto her finger, and oh god, it fits perfectly, it feels perfect, the weight just noticeable enough to remind her that it's there, that this is happening.

She thinks she said "yes" at some point. She had to have, right? But nothing matters because there's a ring on her finger and tears in her eyes and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as they share kisses between relieved, emotional sobs.

All of these years, she had a hard time saying it, the words often getting caught in her throat, terrified of the vulnerability that they might reveal. But tonight, they don't get caught within her. If anything, they pour out like a rushing, flooding river, uncontrollable and uncontainable.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, oh I love…"

She subconsciously is aware that Karen and Kayla must be in the house somewhere, which stops her from stripping him on the back porch, but her body feels ignited with love for him, and they are going to get married, so why hold back now?

Surely some staffer who helped set all of this up will keep the house from burning down from all the candle flames dancing around, she doesn't care.

As soon as the door to their bedroom is shut, the heaviness on her finger feels like it's connecting to a string directly linked to her heart, pulling and tugging and reminding her of his love. There is everything to feel, but nothing to say.

Their clothes find the floor, her fingers tangle in his hair, and it's all urgent until suddenly it's not. Completely naked, lying on their sides and sharing kisses, they sober, and she opens her eyes to find his already admiring her.

"We're doing this," she murmurs into the space between their lips.

Finally, she wants to say. Finally, we are doing this. But she knows that he understands… that everything leading up to this moment has prepared them, like he said. They couldn't be doing this now if there wasn't the before. If they hadn't weathered the storms, they couldn't enjoy the blossoming spring that is their current reality.

"We are doing this," he confirms, cradling her body as close to his as possible, save for the roundness of their baby between them.

"Will you…" Her voice trails off in a question as her eyes search his and her lips spread in a soft smile. Her sneaky hand trails down his body, cupping the hardness between his thighs.

"'Will I' what, Livvie?" He asks teasingly, thumbing one of her bare nipples, making her gasp.

"Make love to me, Fitz."

She doesn't ever say it, at least not in those words, and when her hand leaves his groin and settles against the middle of his chest, the ring catches the soft light of their bedside lamps and glints across her skin.

There's no waiting, nothing that needs to be said. He hooks her left thigh over his hips, guiding himself through her wetness, brushing against the bundle of nerves at the top of her folds, gliding down and resting against her opening, and then he slides inside of her.

Perfect, fulfilled, whole.

It's a gentle rhythm, a soft flow of pushes and pulls. It feels like breathing and floating and happiness.

It feels like a new start, an awakening, a renaissance.

It feels like "of course" and "meant to be" and "finally".

It's Olivia and Fitz, but it's also them. It's Olivia and Fitz and no-name-yet baby. It's love and family and everything.

Finally.

It's "finally".


AN: FINALLY! Ah! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I had a whale of time trying to figure out ball-park dates but truthfully there isn't much to go off in the show other than election seasons so go easy on me there! We are officially leaving Vermont (for the time being)! Woo! Thanks for hanging in there with me. I absolutely love writing this story, so it makes me so happy to hear that some of you enjoy it as well! :)