Summary from FFN: "Ideally, a Presidency lasts 8 years. Ideally, a marriage lasts 50. 8 years of a job, even the highest job in the Land is not worth 42 years of misery...";"What kind of coward was I to marry her and not wait for you to show up...why didn't I meet you sooner..."These two lines will be at the core of my latest AU Olitz fic;Rated for language and spice;7th in my 2013 SSS Project
Teaser from Chapter 158: Her phone rang and she immediately answered, the call coming right on time.
"Hello, Mr. President."
"Okay, you don't sound worried or angry so it can't be too bad...is Gerry okay?"
"Gerry's just fine, love. He was just being a good best friend with some punching involved. He'll give you all the gory details later. He wants to be a man about it, apparently."
"I see...who'd he punch?"
"Todd Allen."
"...did he put his weight behind it?"
"Fitz!"
"Well, did he?"
"He did. "
"That's my boy."
"Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III..."
"Don't you legal and Christian name me, lady! The Allens are a couple of racist, obnoxious idiots. The apple didn't fall far from the tree."
"No, it didn't...shall we let our warrior pick dinner tonight?"
"Sure. Get him some ice cream, too."
"Will do. How was your morning briefing?"
"It was actually pretty exciting..."
Disclaimer for the full story: “Honestly, it’s not mine!”
@douxbebearchives
The End of an Era pt. 3
5 Weeks Later...
"...if I had known that your vouching for me would force me back on the road again..."
"Oh, stop it. You know you love being on The Trail. Besides, you're telecommuting most of the time, anyway. You'll be back here by Monday."
"Still..."
"Do you want Frankie and Susan to change their minds about keeping you around?"
"Hell, no!"
"That's what I thought. How's it going out there, really?"
"Damned good. People are really turning out for this one, already and Susan's appearance on Kimmel really gave things a boost with Millennials. Frankie's going to be meeting with a DACA recipient and we've all been invited over for dinner and dancing afterwards."
"Make sure you bring some Tums with you, gringo."
"Oh, you've got jokes...what are you up to?"
"More packing and Fitz asked me to help him choose who gets to paint our Portraits."
"...it's really coming down to the wire, isn't it?"
"You know how Term limits work, Cy. 8 years means just that and even if it didn't? It's time to pass the Torch."
"I just hope Frankie and Susan don't get it stolen from them. They're gonna do everything they can to Elect that asshole..."
Olivia shook her head at the likely scenario but held her tongue. Of all the people, a con-man disguised as a respectable businessman had decided to toss his Hat into the Race. Not only that, he had quickly become the only viable candidate against Frankie and Susan. It wasn't really a shock. His appeal to the lowest common denominators made for excellent joke fuel but the jokes would grind to a screeching halt if he actually managed to win. Although they had taken many hits over the years, the Good Ol' Boys were still around in DC and they were feeling scared. They were rich men with more money than sense and no melanin amongst them unless they were tokens or leeches. The "candidate" was promising a return to traditional values and to "make America Great again" ala Ronald Reagan.
Reagan hadn't made America great again. He had tanked the economy for the sake of the rich.
Plus, America had never been truly Great to begin with.
Yes, Olivia loved her country. She was honored to be a part of its history but there was no hiding from the facts. America had been built on the backs and graves of oppressed people, most of who looked like her. There were still remnants of that legacy everywhere, from the lawbooks to the sub-Reddit communities. It was clear that the "candidate" was unqualified. How could he run the Country if he couldn't even run his Empire correctly but still...
"All we can do is do our best and if the worst happens..."
"We all flee to Canada?"
"...we keep going. People don't have to be in the Oval to get things done. It's just faster that way."
"True...so, The Fitzgerald Grant Foundation? That's what he's going to do next?"
"Mm-hm. After everything with Brandon Parker and the research he's been doing into the prison systems, Fitz really wants to focus on social reform, especially for Communities and People of Color. The main base is going to be up in Vermont with the Library but he's already looking for office space around town."
"Isn't there room in your building?"
"There is but it would be better for him to have his own domain. That way, there are less chances for a conflict of interest and the Optics would be better. You know, they're still pushing the henpecked puppet thing? It's honestly pathetic...funny but pathetic..."
Before Cyrus could reply, the sound of personal cell phone ringing got her attention.
"I'll call you back, okay?"
"All right. Bye, Liv."
"Bye...this is Olivia Pope-Grant."
"Mrs. Pope-Grant, this is Ms. Rinkus from Thomas Jefferson Academy. I'm calling about your son, Gerry..."
"Is he okay?"
"He isn't seriously hurt but he was in a physical altercation with another student during recess today. It's likely that he won't be suspended but if you could come down..."
"I'm on my way."
/
"...I'm sorry, Momma."
"Don't be. I'm not mad."
"I just wanted Todd to stop. Siddiq and his family are good people and Todd had no right to talk about them like that. Just because someone is Muslim doesn't mean that they're terrorists. Actually, most terrorists are white men nowadays..."
"That's true. I'm glad you stuck up for your friend, Fitzgerald."
"Even if he wasn't my friend, I would've done it anyway...you're really not mad?"
"Not even a little. Although, next time, try using your words before you start punching, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am. Do I have to go home? Ranza and I are supposed to do our project today..."
"No, you don't have to go home. You do need to keep the ice pack on your hand for the rest of the day, though...and I have to tell your father what's happened."
"Nah, let me do it. Real men own their actions."
"You're not a man yet, Ger."
"I'm getting there. You know I'm gonna be 13 next year. An official teenager..."
"Stop it!"
"Your firstborn is getting old and so are you..."
"Get outta here, Muhammed Ali. Your friends are waiting and you've got a rocket to launch. I'll see you at home."
Before he could get out of reach, Olivia hugged him and pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek, making sure to leave a bright red lip print.
"Mom-ma...not in public..."
"Yes, in public! You may be getting teenager-y on me but you're always gonna be my dulce."
The pout on his face reminded her so much of Fitz, Olivia couldn't help but grin. The grin broadened as Gerry rejoined his waiting friends, including Siddiq Miller. Siddiq was the only child belonging to Amir and Mariah Miller who had moved to DC from New York City in 2009. They were transcribers for the press corp and wonderful people, genuinely sweet and loving. Their boys had met during a State Dinner, becoming instant best friends over their shared love of Super Smash Bros and parkour. Siddiq was teaching Gerry Arabic Sign Language and Gerry helped him out with Algebra.
Todd Allen was the son of Butch and Carrie Allen, two oil money millionaires hailing from conservative Texas. They didn't have Hollis Doyle level of money but they definitely had his viewpoints, apparently. They had passed said viewpoints to their son and Gerry was right to punch him out. Well, more accurately, Gerry had grabbed the swing he was on and after momentum had done its job, he had tackled the boy. Since Gerry was known to be a calm and well behaved child, he had been able to get quite a few blows in before the shocked aides intervened. Gerry's knuckles were scraped and swollen. Todd's nose was swollen and he would have a hell of a split lip for a while.
Good.
Few things were more satisfying than seeing bigots get their due, regardless of age.
Mr. and Mrs. Allen had arrived to the principal's office, ready to unleash hell until they figured out just who their son had offended.
As much as being known as The Olivia Pope-Grant could be annoying at times, it certainly came in handy. They had hastily collected their sullen son and assured her that no charges would be pressed. It was just boys being boys, after all. They also said that they would be giving Todd "a stern talking to about his horrible behavior" but Olivia was certain that it would be more about scolding him for not being subtle instead of for being hateful.
Such was life in the US Capital...
Her phone rang and she immediately answered, the call coming right on time.
"Hello, Mr. President."
"Okay, you don't sound worried or angry so it can't be too bad...is Gerry okay?"
"Gerry's just fine, love. He was just being a good best friend with some punching involved. He'll give you all the gory details later. He wants to be a man about it, apparently."
"I see...who'd he punch?"
"Todd Allen."
"...did he put his weight behind it?"
"Fitz!"
"Well, did he?"
"He did. "
"That's my boy."
"Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III..."
"Don't you legal and Christian name me, lady! The Allens are a couple of racist, obnoxious idiots. The apple didn't fall far from the tree."
"No, it didn't...shall we let our warrior pick dinner tonight?"
