Words from the Gladiator in a Hoodie: You're gonna need tissue for this one, folks. This has been on the drawing board from the Jump and as always, I promise that there will be an Olitz HEA at the end of this fic. It's gonna be okay...
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 66:
"I love you, Fitz."
"I love you too, Olivia. Always."
Always wasn't supposed to end so soon…it wasn't fair. They had only gotten 8 years. That wasn't nearly enough time. Ger was still growing up and Peanut deserved to know her father, to see them all happy and healthy and safe…
"This is all my fault."
If she could talk, she'd assure Cyrus that it certainly wasn't his fault unless he was the one behind the shooting, which was highly unlikely. Not only because they were family but there was absolutely no benefit to be had for him if Fitz passed away. The Line of Succession had Sally going in and while there was a strong truce, even a friendship on a good day between them and the Veep, her relationship with Cyrus was contentious at best. The both of them disagreed with each other on a fundamental level about everything from sexual orientation to the proper way to make a cup of coffee. One of the first things Sally would do as President Langston would be to throw him out on his ass, him and James, for that matter. If Fitz died, his political career died too…
"I killed him. He didn't want the gala. You didn't want the gala. This is…I killed him."
She shook her head wildly and grabbed him by the arms, shaking him slightly to get him to look at her.
"…isn't dead…he will not die!" she forced through the rawness in her throat, the gut wrenching pain in her heart.
"Liv, you can't…" he started sobbingly.
She slapped harshly and shook him harder, her own sobs and despair burning through her like acid.
"He won't die, damn it! He can't! He promised! He'll fight and he'll win! He is not dead! Don't you dare give up on him! Don't you fucking dare, Cyrus!"
Disclaimer for the full story: "Honestly, it's not mine!"
Happy Birthday, Mr. President pt. 1
"Cyrus, the only thing I want to do for my birthday is to spend time playing outside and watching Disney movies with my son, hear from my family, open whatever amazing gift Liv's come up for me and then I want to eat red velvet birthday cake off of the aforementioned Liv's naked sexy pregnant self before going to sleep until at least 9 the next morning. I don't want a gala. She doesn't even want a gala. Neither of us want a damned gala."
"I know you both don't want a gala but the People do. It's a momentous occasion. You're the youngest President to be here with a thriving interracial version of Camelot, what JFK and Jackie could've been…."
"I really hate that comparison. Olivia and I are an entity to ourselves and need I remind you how Camelot ended? Cyrus, I do not want a gala. I do not want to be a spectacle on my 36th birthday but I take it that I don't really have a choice in the matter?"
"No, sir. You really don't. It's already being planned and it won't be so bad. Just think of Liv in a spectacular gown that you can hike up in a dark corner someplace and get your birthday humps in."
"Cy-rus!"
"Don't you sit here and tell me that you wouldn't, that she wouldn't…see, you're laughing because I'm right! You two are ridiculous and it's even worse now that she's pregnant! You're gonna end up with a whole dance crew of kids if you're not careful!"
"Dance Crew, Cyrus?"
"It's all James' fault!"
"Wow…"
It had happened so fast.
It had happened so slowly.
It had happened.
Why had it happened?
It shouldn't have happened…
"Momma?"
"What is it, dulce?"
"What if someone hurts daddy? I saw a picture of a little kid saluting at his daddy's funeral and he was a president, too…I don't want someone to hurt daddy…"
Everything was in a soundless vacuum. The doctors had swarmed around her as soon as they got him to the triage area but she felt frozen, numb with shock and with absolute terror as she was placed on an exam table. Her white and silver gown, the white and silver gown that actually made his jaw drop was stained. Maroon. Scarlet. Patches of Superman Red. Dimly, she registered a burning pain on her upper arm and she remembered the whiz and thwack of impact. Her throat was burning and it came back to her. A flash in an uppermost area of a nearby parking garage, Fitz jerking backward like a marionette as 3 bullets sailed into him, Kendra's cries of pain as two bullets slammed into her, hitting the ground on her side and seeing him half slumped over between a very pale Tom and Eddie. Unfocused, pleading, fading cerulean slate eyes…she had pulled herself up and wrapped her arms around him, aiding him towards the Beast, the hospital…
"...Liv?!" he had gurgled deliriously, blood and god knows what else pouring down his temple.
Her throat hurt because she had been screaming, apparently for an extended time because she couldn't even get a whimper out now. She had landed on her side when they all went down. Was Peanut okay? The baby…her babies…oh god, Ger…where was Ger? Did he see…the Gala had been broadcast and streamed live…what if he saw…how were they going to…what if…she needed to…but she couldn't…oh, God…why had this happened? Why, why, why…who had done this? She needed her husband…she wanted answers…she wanted her Flyboy, her Fitz back…whoever was responsible for this would pay with interest! She would destroy them all and everyone they loved!
"Charge to 300!"
"Mr. President, look at me! You cannot die! Do you hear me? You cannot die…"
"Mrs. Pope-Grant! Mrs. Pope-Grant, we need to take an ultrasound…"
"She's in shock. Someone get…"
"…You know…I'm scared of that happening, too. Your daddy is a good man to us and lots of people but there are others out there who aren't gonna like him because of the way he sees and does his job…"
He was on the gurney, stripped out of his tux and utterly still. Fitz was never still, even in his sleep. He always shifted and inevitably, he'd tangle them up together in a messy Gordian Knot cocoon of limbs and bedding. His skin, usually a healthy pale tan (with freckles that she adored to kiss) was ghostly pale and splattered with blood, disinfectant...brain matter…
"He's stable. Get him to OR 4, STAT! Page Drs. Benders and Lopez! Bring two bags O blood from…"
Olivia moved out of the way and watched as the doctors sprinted down the hall with the gurney, her husband on it and fighting for his life. Someone had shot him. Someone had shot them. Her arm hurt because a bullet had gone through it. Someone had shot Kendra. Someone had woken up that morning, went through their morning routine, their day to day business, and decided to end their evening by shooting the President of the United States. Someone had shot the Leader of the Free World. Someone had shot her husband, her best friend, her children's father…
Her other half.
"…I'm not going anywhere."
"…promise?"
"I promise."
He had never broken a promise to her before. When he said he'd be there for her, he was. When he said that he'd be there for their son, he was. His family meant everything to him. She meant everything to him. Nothing was more important than maintaining their bond, their trust so he had never broken a promise nor had she.
But, this time was different. Two bullets to the chest, a bullet to the head…how had he survived? He hadn't been meant to but he had and…he had never broken a promise to her. He had promised that he wasn't going anywhere and they had promised each other that death would come while they did while naked and in their 90s, the story told and laughed about by their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren…your Papa Fitz and Mama Livvie were some nasty-ass freaks to the end, yes they were…
"I love you, Fitz."
"I love you too, Olivia. Always."
Always wasn't supposed to end so soon…it wasn't fair. They had only gotten 8 years. That wasn't nearly enough time. Ger was still growing up and Peanut deserved to know her father, to see them all happy and healthy and safe…
"This is all my fault."
If she could talk, she'd assure Cyrus that it certainly wasn't his fault unless he was the one behind the shooting, which was highly unlikely. Not only because they were family but there was absolutely no benefit to be had for him if Fitz passed away. The Line of Succession had Sally going in and while there was a strong truce, even a friendship on a good day between them and the Veep, her relationship with Cyrus was contentious at best. The both of them disagreed with each other on a fundamental level about everything from sexual orientation to the proper way to make a cup of coffee. One of the first things Sally would do as President Langston would be to throw him out on his ass, him and James, for that matter. If Fitz died, his political career died too…
"I killed him. He didn't want the gala. You didn't want the gala. This is…I killed him."
She shook her head wildly and grabbed him by the arms, shaking him slightly to get him to look at her.
"…isn't dead…he will not die!" she forced through the rawness in her throat, the gut wrenching pain in her heart.
"Liv, you can't…" he started sobbingly.
She slapped harshly and shook him harder, her own sobs and despair burning through her like acid.
"He won't die, damn it! He can't! He promised! He'll fight and he'll win! He is not dead! Don't you dare give up on him! Don't you fucking dare, Cyrus!"
/
"You were supposed to kill him!"
"I did!"
"No, you didn't! He's in surgery right now!"
"So what? I shot him in the damned head! Even if he pulls through, he's probably going to be a vegetable or a cripple for the rest of his life! And you know Langston isn't going to wait very long before ascending to the throne! She'll be out on the street before the end of the year!"
"They hired you to do one simple task and you failed. He was supposed to die at the scene. All you had to do was shoot him center mass in the head and you didn't. You went off the script. You caused more chaos and collateral damage than necessary. I vouched for you, damn it! Do you know what's going to happen to me because of your incompetence?!"
"Look, I…it'll be fine. He'll die in the end. You'll see…"
"For your sake, you better hope so. If I'm going down, fine but I'll be damned if I don't take you out personally. Slowly and painfully."
/
2002…
"Can you believe we're actually married? You let me marry you."
Olivia giggled at the sheer giddiness in her husband's tone and delicately accepted the strawberry he offered her, sucking off the honey before biting down. After the courthouse and dinner at Henna, where it all began, their friends and her parents had presented them with a key card to one of the best hotels in the city. They had kept their composure until they got behind closed doors and then…they pounced.
Sex, lovemaking, fucking…everything they did together was good. It had been from the start but every kiss, every lick, every caress, every impact of their hips felt all the sweeter because they were married. Married, married, married…he was her husband. She was no longer Olivia Pope. She was Olivia Pope-Grant. By the powers vested by God and the State of New York, they were married. Married, married, married…she had a husband, now. She was somebody's wife, now. She was Fitz's wife, now!
"Are you sure you want me to have these, baby? I'm terrible with jewelry…"
"My Grandma Nadi left her rings to me to give to the love of my life. That's you, Olivia."
"Still…"
"Olivia, they're insured and I know you won't let anything happen to them regardless. Stop worrying."
Conceding the point with an incline of her head, she idly twisted the upper band on her left ring finger. Nadia Reacher-Grant's wedding set had reached legendary status in American pop culture and folklore. They had disappeared after the woman passed away and no one knew exactly where they went. Many had speculated that they had been sold or donated to the archives. Olivia had nearly fallen out of her skin when he matter of factly slid the engagement band onto her finger while they were packing up his apartment.
All misgivings aside, she loved the rings. They were platinum and the opals looked like they were burning blue, purple, and green flame at all times. Embedded within were white and black diamonds and the infinity symbol was engraved within both. They looked like something straight out of Tolkien and her own imagination. And the fact that Fitz trusted her with such a tangible part of his family's history…
"You're thinking too much. It's our honeymoon. You're not supposed to be thinking about anything except for where you want my mouth next."
"You're bossy when you're all married and shit, aren't you?"
"I have to be to keep up with you, Livvie. It's what I get for falling for a lioness."
"Lioness? I've always thought of myself as a hellcat but…okay."
"Shut up and c'mere, woman."
"Make m-"
Olivia shrieked with laughter as he lunged forward and slung her over his shoulder. The laughter only grew as his foot got caught in a stray sheet and while she had landed on the bed, he was now face down on the thankfully carpeted floor, shuddering with laughter at his own expense. Oh God, her husband was such a klutz, sometimes. Her husband…Fitz was her husband now…they were married! Married, married, married!
"You…you didn't break your nose, did you?"
"No."
"Shame. You could use a nose job…"
"Why, you little…"
"The truth isn't slan- oh, my God!"
Grinning with smug, lustful intent, he continued to surge into her, wrenching delighted cries out of her…
Did Hollis set up the assassination? I'm not gonna say that I'm 100% sure he didn't, but I'm definitely not 100% convinced that he did. We all know that he's a power hungry goon, but I think he's taking the fall for shooting Fitz. Is he profiting from it? Definitely, but did he set it up... hmm...
My top suspect: Verna. for having just too many convenient details at convenient times.
Her thinking that sketch looked a lot like Huck. That sketch of the shooter didn't look like anyone. It looked as much like Huck as it looked like me with my 5 o'clock shadow.
She saw Hollis with a burner phone having a conversation that involved both the name "Betsy or Becky" AND the Stanworth Hotel? Really? What are the chances? I've never set up anything shadier than a surprise party, but even then I knew how to have a phone conversation without mentioning details. And I may be just as devious as Hollis Doyle, but I'm definitely not more devious. Maybe if it was his first time setting up a kill, I'd believe he'd be that sloppy, but we all know he's an old hand at setting up kills, so... not bloody likely.
Becky had a lot of info about Huck, how would Hollis have known any of that?
Side note/question - Sally keeps talking about what a liberal Verna is -- how did she even end up aligned with Fitz's campaign?
And speaking of Sally... last time we saw her with Hollis, Hollis said he was going to take care of the problem and then next thing we see is Becky getting called to action again, so the natural assumption is that Hollis called her, right? I don't think so. I don't know who called Becky, but I think what Hollis did was find a doctor to sign the affadavit that Sally said she had when confronting Mellie. And I just hope Mellie gets a text that says "He's awake!" as she's sitting there so she can read Sally and leave her speechless. I like when people do that.
Fitz is in a nest of vipers and his father may be one of the biggest, baddest of them all. I predict he has a hand in DC5 and, sadly, the assassination attempt. Where is Freud when you need him?
