Hi. I hope you enjoy.

Until Next Time,

Muse

/

Previously:

Olivia shakes her head "Mr. President." Olivia smiles softly at the nickname the group unknowingly gave the President of the united states. " you know we had an affair, and this affair lasted years…he loved me but he loved his job…he loved me but he loved his kids…he loved me but I worked for him. Many hated me because of how he looked at me because he loved me over his white wife. He picked the common black girl over his wealthy wife. He was willing to give it all up for me. Power, fame, money. His life was going to be over because he fell in love with a black girl…doesn't seem fair right? He was to lose everything because he loved me. The world was burning and I was the one who lit the match…"

" What happened?"

"Me." Olivia smiles sadly "he would have resented me and ended up hating me for stopping his path to greatness. He claims he wouldn't and maybe I'm wrong. But I wasn't going to give him a chance to fail me, to hurt me. So I left and I'm still atoning for my sins."

Ryan stares at Olivia with his brown eyes watering at their shared stories and pain.

"You love him," Ryan answers simply

"And you love him," Olivia responds

"But…" Ryan knows there's always a but to any great statement.

"But. Love isn't enough. Is it?" Olivia asked

All Ryan can do is shake his head. He tried. He tried to be everything Bryan needed, but he can't be everything without being nothing.

"The truth Ryan; Is you love him. And You've been living with this secret for a long time. I know what that's like…I honestly do. And you think you're doing it for the right reasons. You think if you give him time, he'll change. If you are less you then he'll be more him…that's not on you! Who you are, who you love, that shouldn't be a secret. It shouldn't have to be a secret, should it?" Olivia begs

"No. It shouldn't be a secret." Ryan hugs Olivia as they cry in each other's arms.

"I don't want Hope to be a secret. But I don't want the world to hate her either for what she represents."

"The world won't hate her." Ryan wipes Olivia's tears away.

"How do you know that?"

"The majority of mankind is pretty awesome. We have some horrible people, but also some great ones as well….like you….the world won't hate her…and they don't hate you."

"Are you sure?"

"No." Ryan laughs "but we root for love, and I know you and your ole guy aren't together anymore. But, Hope was made with love. Regardless, of what the world thinks about our life and our choices. We have each other, and that's all we need."

Olivia smiles, intertwining her hands with Ryan.

"We have Hope."

X

There's something magical about water. There's the buoyance of the liquid, the ability to blend into any shape, and its healing properties.

Nine months pregnant, she's passed being able to swim, but every day as the sunrises, she floats aimlessly in the water. She observes the kaleidoscope of colors from the sky. The rich fuchsia clouds evolve to scenic orange, and Olivia wonders if she has ever done this before in her life.

As a child, she never took the time to reflect. Olivia's father pushed her to greatness, and she is excellent— the best at everything, but never the best person. The concept is not lost on her. The idea of winning superseded all thoughts of living. She lost herself in her quest for greatness and the approval of her parent's acceptance and love. But, as she contemplates the trajectory of her life, Olivia sees now that she's never lived.

With her excellent health and Hope thriving inside her womb, Olivia opted for a water birth at the hospital. Originally she wanted to give birth at home, but after consulting with her doctor, she feared something happening to Hope, and not having adequate medical resources frightened her.

Rubbing her belly, she feels Hope kicking, reminding her of their soon-to-be union. The fear. The excitement. The questions that plague her.

Can she do this?

What if Hope hates her?

What if she fails? Never one to admit defeat, the thought of failing her daughter the same way her parents failed her. The thought alone is worse than death. She won't accept failing her; she can't. She doesn't want to be a cliché where motherhood changes people. That's not true. She must do a lot of work, not for Hope but herself, so she can face the world, the person in the mirror, and accept her.

"Why are you always in the pool?"

Olivia laughs, observing Alice come to the center as she looks at her upside in the water. "It's calming."

"Sure, weirdo."

"What's up?" Olivia moves to the pool's edge, where Alice has her toes dipped into the water.

"Just checking to see how it's going? You are due in a couple of days, right?"

"Yup."

"Nervous? Cause I got some serious wiggly guts right now."

"I am." Olivia laughs. "I am terrified. I never thought I would be doing this. Especially by myself."

"Well, we are here for you."

"I know." Olivia touches her friend's hand, "and I appreciate you all. But, those rare times, I dreamed of having a baby with him. Him, holding my hand, us embracing this miracle we created."

"You can still call, Mr. President."

"Al." Olivia shakes her head. "I can't. I want to, and then I don't." She laughs. "It's easy avoiding him. Avoiding the trauma, the pain, and the desire to be with him. I've dated many, but I always kept a distance. I never wanted to be left, so I always ended things before they began. But he got to me, and the more I ran away from him, the deeper the pull brought me back. I loved him since the day I met him."

"I just don't understand why you two can't work it out? You miss him."

"Al, it is very complicated. And running back to him, at this time, will be a circus. My daughter will never have a moment to herself. I want her to be normal."

"You talk about him like he's famous. Your kid is going to be fine. Besides, normal is overrated."

Olivia sighs, deciding not to divulge anymore.

"But maybe Hope is special."

Getting out of the pool, Olivia sits beside Alice. Her large beach towel draped over her body.

"Hope is special. She's the key to the kingdom." Olivia smiles.

"The key!"

Olivia nods. "She's the key. It's not who she is but what she represents."

Alice stares at Carolyn, knowing she has a whole other world in America. She's curious, desperately wanting to find it and know the secret that she is hiding. But, there is a fear of her. She fears invading her friend's personal life and finding something that is best left unsaid. Despite her desire to know more, she pulls back from researching and opts to respect her friend's privacy.

"You know, I'm nosy. And I want to know more about you and your life in America. But overall, I want you to be happy and Hope to be healthy and happy."

Throwing her hand on Alice's shoulder, she sighs. "I love you, Al. I know in time, I will tell you everything about me. I just am not ready to talk."

"That's okay. We are family, Car. And I love you."

"I love you too."

"I'm very excited to meet her, and I already took some time off work."

"You know, you didn't have to do that. But I appreciate it. For the first time in my life, I need help. I see that."

"Is there anything you need set up? I think we have everything ready."

Looking around her home, Olivia smiles. "No, I think I'm ready. Then again, I'm not ready. I'm scared. But I did this for her and me. I want to meet her, and I want her to love me."

"She will, baby." Alice hugs her friend. She knows Carolyn is often reserved, and there are moments where she will share about her life in America, and chances are she's running away or a refugee. But she doesn't care. She found a friend in Carolyn, who is always steadfast and ready to help her, whether it's men's trouble or lady problems.

"You know Gabby called me."

"Al!"

"I know…she just wanted to talk and apologize."

"Oh really."

"Mmhmm."

"Did she apologize with sex?"

Alice avoids watching her friend's all-knowing stare while playing with Olivia's towel. "Well, she knows it's my favorite way to apologize."

"Al…" Olivia shakes her head. "Listen, that girl is no good. And I am saying this because I was that girl."

"No, you weren't."

"I was." Olivia shakes her head. "I never apologized. I was never wrong. It was never my fault. So, I wouldn't apologize, but I would fuck him because I liked it— because I wanted him. Because fucking is so much easier than talking."

"I like her."

"I know you do, but believe me and listen when I say she doesn't deserve you."

"I feel like I deserve her."

"Why?"

"It's better than being alone."

Olivia smiles sadly. "I used to think like that until I met this guy. He wasn't good for me. He knew exactly how to manipulate me, gaslight me. I kept returning to him when I was on the outs with Mr. President. I slept with him because I thought the way you thought. It's better than being alone. But once it was over, I just felt worse about myself. I self-loathed because it didn't feel good, and I hated myself after it was over. Leaving that guy has helped me. I like myself a little bit. Not a lot. But more than I did before."

"Okay… I'll leave her."

"Don't do that for me. You do that for yourself. The time will come when you are tired. And sometimes you have to leave more than once."

"You miss that guy?"

"No. Not even a little," Olivia admits.

She thought she would miss Jake, but she never actually knew Jake. How can you miss someone you never knew? Jake has always been her vice, her substitute for what she truly wants. When she missed Fitz, she would call Jake. When Olivia was lonely, he came. But when Olivia got what she wanted, when she got Fitz, she didn't care about Jake or anyone. Always taking care of others, choosing herself meant choosing Fitz. And she has no regrets about her choice, only the circumstances surrounding them.

/

Biting her nails, she looks at Fitz on MSNBC, where his interview was replayed. There's such an unusual feeling building up inside of her. She peers up from the kitchen island to catch a glimpse of him talking to Diane Sawyer. Somehow every time she looks up, he's staring at her with his all-knowing stare, as though he can see through her soul. She freezes for a second. And time stops moving.

My God, she misses him.

A wave of memories moves through her, the good. The bad. The pain. The joy. The current of love envelopes her, and all she can do is allow the emotions to take over. At the beginning of her move to New Zealand, she hated him. She hated Fitz for what he did to her, how he changed her, made her dream, and worst of all, how he made her believe in love. How can a girl like her love? She wasn't raised with love and didn't experience the love she was supposed to deserve from her father. Her mother used her as a ploy.

What exactly is love? And how do you define it?

She can't see it. She can't touch it. She can't smell it. So what the hell is love, and how is she supposed to know what it feels like? She asked Fitz that question during the first stage of their relationship. She was swept in the throes of passion when everything was new and exciting.

"Liv, you know what love feels like. I know you know what love feels like because I see it every day you look at me." He whispers in her ear as they wait for everyone else to board the bus.

She stares at him for a second, watching as the sun sprinkles stardust on his skin, leaving him with a golden glow and eyes more profound than any ocean she encountered. It amazes her how he knows her so profoundly that she believes he knows her better than she knows herself.

She doesn't respond to him. How can she?

"I know you love me, and I'm sorry if me saying I love you last night scared you. But you don't have to be scared, Livvie."

Her arms are folded against her chest, and she bangs on the glass door demanding the bus driver open it immediately so she can escape him.

"Liv…"

"Don't you dare say I have nothing to worry about. Suppose someone were to find out about us. I'm the one ruined. You get to go on being the President with your perfect life and wife, and I'll be known as the homewrecker who stole the white President from his wife." Olivia hisses with as much venom as she can muster.

"We both know this white man is desperately and hopelessly in love with this black woman." He touches her hand briefly before she walks down the bus, signaling for the driver to open it now.

"Liv."

She brushes past him, walking on the bus, finding the farthest seat in the back. Fitz, can't do this to her. He can't make these grand declarations of love and fidelity when he can't act on his words and feelings.

He boards the bus and whispers to the bus driver, who walks out. He closes the bus door, walks to the back, and sits next to Olivia, blocking her inside.

"Move. You are making a scene." Olivia hisses, staring at the window, constantly on the lookout.

"I'm going to need you to stop fighting the inevitable."

"What are you talking about?" Olivia turns towards Fitz, shocked by his response.

"I love you. And you don't have to say it. I just want you to know."

"I don't want your love." Olivia hisses, her voice breaking. "I don't know what that means."

"You don't know what love means?" He asks so gently that Olivia feels bothered by his concern and shock.

"You do?"

"I do." Fitz answers, "And I'll show you love, Liv. Somehow some way."

"What is it?" Olivia turns to stare at Fitz.

Fitz smiles at Olivia understandably. "It's what you feel whenever we are together. How you play old records, and we dance slowly together, our hearts beating in sync. It's how we laugh for hours about nothing and everything. How you fall asleep so easily once you are in my arms."

"Fitz…"

"We might not have experienced love from our parents, but we found it now."

Olivia fiddles with her hands, afraid of what she might see and feel if she were to stare at those piercing blue eyes that make her get lost in translation. One night, cloaked in darkness, she bared her soul to Fitz. Confessing that she had a bad childhood, he shared that his father never loved him. Somehow their broken childhoods soothed and bonded them. What Olivia lost with her family, she has found in Fitz.

Without uttering a word, her hand falls from her lap and encircles Fitz's larger and warmer hand. Fitz, in return, squeezes her hand in assurance.

That's what love feels like.

/

She wipes the lone tear from her cheek. Hope is kicking, and while she knows Hope can't hear Fitz's voice, Olivia believes somehow she is aware of her father. Perhaps, she is compensating for the fact that she is near her due date and she can't be with him.

Fitz addresses their relationship, and the camera pans away from Fitz and shows a montage of their love, or what they perceive to be their love. There are small clips of them getting out of the car. Fitz, coming to her apartment to pick her up. Their first dance in public as a couple. For Olivia, those small moments represent something grandeur and true.

"Where is Olivia Pope?" Diane asks.

Fitz smiles sweetly. "Your guess is as good as mine, Diane."

"You don't know where she is?"

Fitz shakes his head. "I don't, but wherever she is. I wish her happiness, peace, and health."

"What happened?"

Fitz takes a minute to answer or deflect. One of the many tools Olivia gave him.

"I don't think of our relationship as being a failure. It was a success. I learned from Olivia the same way I learned from Mellie and every relationship throughout my journey. Whether a friend or enemy, there is always a learning moment."

"Did the pressure of the public eye break you and Olivia?"

"No. I have work I need to do. I have a country to support and lead. And Olivia has people who need her and work she has to do."

"Where is your presidential library going to be?"

"It will be in Vermont."

"Really?"

"Vermont is a special place for me. It is the place that is the truest representation of me."

"With your presidency coming to an end, how do you want America to remember you."

He takes a moment. "I want America to remember me as a President who tried and fought to improve this world. I united NATO, brought our enemies down, passed gun reform, and overcame an assassination attempt. I've experienced my highs and lows during this presidency, but the American people brought me back. They brought me back from the brink of death several times during this presidency."

"Your assassination attempt." Diane answers.

Fitz nods. "That, but I was referring to losing my son."

"I can't imagine the pain."

Fitz stares down for a second, stopping himself from crying. "My son died in my arms. I would give anything to trade places with him. Losing a child is the hardest thing I have ever experienced. And I pray I never have to feel that pain again. But I am not the only person to have experienced that profound level of loss and suffering."

"Doesn't make it easy."

"No. I try not to imagine my son and the endless possibilities, what he could have done, who he would be. The milestones he will never see. The blank pages that will never be filled. I think of the time I did have with him."

"You have been dealt a rough deck of cards, Mr. President."

Fitz nods his head in agreement.

"And, I don't think I know a person who is more deserving of peace and happiness."

Fitz smiles, "my happiness comes from my children and the American children, ensuring they are safe, have health insurance, and can go to school in peace. These laws are my love letters to the American people."

"All I can say is job well done."

"Thank you, Diane. I'm not out yet. I still have almost a year left, so there's work to be done before I say farewell."

The cold wood floors warm as she paces back and forth. Her cellphone is in her hand as she contemplates her next move. The interview moved her and hurt her in more ways than one. She's taken so much from Fitz and can't take this from him.

But she's scared.

Her fingers are trapped. She can't seem to dial the ten-digit number she knows by heart.

But she takes a chance.

Her heart simultaneously races and breaks as she waits for him to pick up.

"Pick up," Olivia whispers, the phone cradling her ear.

The beating is so profound that she almost feels sick. Her heart is beating so definitively in her ears that she can't hear the dial tone as she waits for Fitz to pick up or the large splash of liquid hitting the floor.

She hangs up immediately.

Times up.

Eight thousand miles away, Fitz stares at the ringing phone. Holding the small apparatus so gently in his hand, he watches it glow and vibrate in his hand, and he knows it is her. This phone was made for her whenever they needed each other. His hand whitens around the phone as he wonders about her. Is she in danger? Does she need him? But then he remembers what happened. His hand loosens, and he watches the phone's vibrating cease.

He, too, has to move on. Even if he never does, he has to try.

With one final look, he places the phone in his desk drawer and locks it.