A/N – This is a somewhat AU story. While Fitz isn't running for president, he is running for governor of California when he meets Olivia. I'm not sure if I will have Fitz run for president in this story and if I do, it would most likely be in a sequel.

For anyone unfamiliar with my writing, I tend to find songs that either inspire me during my writing process or that I feel have a strong connection with what I am writing. These songs become part of the story's "soundtrack" that I later post on my facebook or twitter – both links are on my profile.

This particular story was inspired by a couple that I know and the song that I felt connected the most with it was "Be My Downfall" by Del Amitri. – G.

Downfall

Chapter One: Things We Know We Shouldn't Do

"We really need to start hitting some of these cities hard; getting your name out there and letting people become familiar with your face," Cyrus Beene announced to his boss, Fitzgerald Grant III.

"We need to show the people normalcy. They're upset with Ryan because of all the scandals that have taken place during his entire first term. They want a normal, American family," Mellie Grant spoke up, smiling at her husband of eighteen years.

"Mellie's right," Fitz grinned back, "We should have pep rallies, debates, all the normal stuff, but we also need to plan normal, everyday American activities."

"I'll work on the pep rallies and debates. You and Mellie can work on the other." Cyrus grabbed the large, black folder on the desk in front of him. It was stuffed and dwarfed the older man. He had devoted the majority of his time to this campaign, putting his life into getting Fitz successfully through this campaign and gaining Cyrus himself a place as a top aide to the person he believed to be the future governor.

"Cyrus, don't you think we should coordinate?" Mellie pointed out, standing from her chair and heading in the direction that Cyrus had headed calling behind her to Fitz, "Don't forget to pick Jerry up from daycare!"

Fitz watched as his wife and friend exited the room. They had both instantly become more invested in this campaign than he had. He wanted to be governor, but he didn't seem to want it as much as they did.

He slowly stood and turned to grab his jacket. He slung it over his shoulder, it was warm out and he didn't feel like sweating any more than he already had. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket as he headed toward the exit. He checked the white, slim phone that seemed to control his life. Mellie had texted a reminder to pick the baby up.

Fitz laughed. She never had trusted him with Jerry and thought she had to leave notes around the house, reminding him that the baby needed fed every two hours and to check his diaper. He hadn't expected that from Mellie. He never pegged her to be the maternal type. He figured that she was either shockingly maternal or that she didn't want to deal with the scandal a dead child would bring. He still wasn't entirely sure of the answer.

When he stepped outside, the bright sun shone harshly, warming his skin and causing him to shield his eyes. He hoped he had a pair of sunglasses in the silver Mercedes-Benz parked in the driveway. If not, it would be a painful twenty minute drive to Jerry's daycare. He briskly walked to the vehicle and climbed in, turning the keys in the ignition and cranking on the a/c before searching for his sunglasses.

After finding a pair in the center console, he slid them on his face and put the car in reverse, quickly spinning out of the drive and onto the highway. He fumbled with the radio station, annoyed at the amount of traffic on the roads. He switched through several stations before growing frustrated and turning the radio off.

He relaxed some when he finally found himself outside of the city limits and well on his way to the small, suburban town that held Jerry's daycare. His grip on the steering wheel loosened and his breathing became even, deeper once more. He despised driving in the crowded lanes of Sacramento.

He began humming "Livin' On a Prayer" to himself; having finally found a station that he was okay with. Rain began falling in a slow, deliberate pattern as he continued west; adding some gloom to the otherwise beautiful day. As he was passing a large, fenced in high school that resembled a prison more than a school, he noticed a cobalt blue Challenger sitting on the side of the road.

He turned the hazard lights on in his vehicle and slowly eased in behind the Challenger. It couldn't harm his image to help a stranger in need. He put the vehicle in park and climbed out, slamming the door behind him. He neared the car, noticing that the back tire was flat.

A young, dark-skinned woman stood by the trunk, her arms crossed and mud splattered on her pale blue dress pants. She glanced at Fitz, jamming her hands in her pockets and watching the older man for any indication of foul play.

"Need some help?" He offered, shuffling toward her and sticking a hand out, "Fitz and you are?"

"Olivia." She shook his head and brushed a thick, lock of black hair from her eyes. She glanced from the deflated tire to the man in front of her and back.

"If you don't mind," She finally answered, deciding to take a chance on this stranger who had stopped instead of sped past her like so many others before him.

"Do you have any tools?" She moved out of the way and popped the trunk for him, allowing him to grab the bag full of basic necessities for this task. He searched around the trunk a little longer than she expected it to take and she began to get nervous about allowing him to help.

"Can I help you find something?" She took a step closer, trying to peer around his shoulder.

"Do you have a doughnut in here?" Her eyes widened and a snort escaped her lips. She wasn't familiar with the maintenance of vehicles, but felt certain that asking for a doughnut was an odd request.

"A doughnut?" She repeated, waiting for him to correct her. When he nodded, she bit her lip and looked in the trunk once more. She searched for several moments, coming up empty handed with a look of confusion that eclipsed that of hers moments ago.

"A spare tire?" Fitz finally elaborated, taking pity on her. Her mouth formed an 'o' as she pointed to the round circle of rubber that lay on the other side of the vehicle. She had already dragged it out and was planning on replacing the blown tire with that one when she realized that she didn't know how.

"Perfect." He stood the tire on its side and began rolling it toward the right side of the vehicle. Olivia followed behind, struggling to carry the large bag of tools that Fitz had dragged from her trunk. She watched as he rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up his arms and began going to work on her tire.

She watched and handed tools as he asked for them. Other than a misunderstanding about the difference between a tire wrench and a wrench; the two were able to change the tire without much of a problem. Fitz helped her place the tools and the blown tire in her trunk, slamming it shut and wiping the palms of his hands on his pants. Mellie would have a fit when she noticed that he had ruined another pair of pants, but it didn't bother him.

"Thank you," She grinned, extending her hand to shake his once more.

"It wasn't that big of a deal." He looked down at the watch on his wrist and wondered if Jerry's daycare teacher had called Mellie yet. He was running fifteen minutes late.

"You stopped when no one else bothered, so it's a big deal in my book," She winked, leaning against her car and noting the glances he kept stealing at his watch, "And I have kept you from something important."

"It's no problem, really," He assured her, stuffing his hands in his pockets to stop his fidgeting. He didn't like to provoke fights with his wife. He would rather be flying planes into hostile territories again than fight with Mellie.

"Is there any way I can thank you?" He shook his head. He would have loved to stay and talk with her more, but he couldn't keep Jerry waiting anymore.

"I get it, you're late. Maybe we can exchange numbers? I'd feel awful about letting you walk away after doing this for me," She suggested, grinning when he nodded and pulled his phone from his pocket. He handed the touchscreen to the woman in front of him and she quickly typed a number in. Seconds later, a loud ding was heard.

"Great. Now you have my number and I have yours," She smiled, checking her phone.

"Sure. Call me anytime and we'll meet up," He threw out there, nodding at her.

"Just not right now," She smirked, heading toward the driver side door.

"Any other time, though," He agreed, walking toward his own vehicle. He waited until she had started her car and safely pulled back onto the highway before entering his own; throwing a hand up when she waved back at him. He watched her go and smiled. He started his vehicle and began the last ten minutes of the trip to the daycare.

He pulled into the parking lot of Tadpole Academy, cringing at the name and the site of a large tadpole looming over the entranceway. He wasn't a fan of the design or name of the daycare that Mellie had chosen for their son. It was ridiculous.

He climbed out of his vehicle, noting that his and the daycare provider's were the only ones in the nearly empty lot. He jogged to the entrance and pulled the door open, narrowing his eyes at the lily-pad design of the door handle.

He found Jerry crawling on the large, alphabet rug. He picked his son up, grinning as the tot wrapped his arms happily around his father's neck. The two Grant men said their goodbyes to the daycare provider and walked back to the vehicle.

"You were fifteen minutes late," Mellie Grant shouted, slamming her silver hairbrush on the wooden vanity as she twisted around to see her husband stepping out of the bathroom, a towel slung around his hips.

"I had problems with the car," Fitz defended, unwilling to mention that he had stopped to help someone else. Mellie would have jumped on that as a key point to plaster across his campaign until she found out he had stopped to help a woman. Her jealousy knew no bounds.

"I thought you just had it checked out?" She moved toward the bed, yanking the blankets down and climbing onto the soft mattress. She settled in against the pillows and watched Fitz move around the room, dressing in his pajamas.

"I had a blow-out," He explained, pulling the blue pajama bottoms over his hips and heading toward the nightstand. He unplugged his phone, setting his alarm before sitting it back down. He joined Mellie in their bed; pulling the blankets to his waist and laying on his back.

"That explains the ruination you have made of your pants." She never was happy about anything unless he was allowing her to run every minute of his life. There were times that Fitz swore to himself Mellie should be the one running for governor.

"Things happen," He sighed, finally letting the exhaustion creep into his voice. He and Mellie had been playing the perfectly happy, married couple for the last six months and it was tiring. Nothing about their marriage had been perfect since they had Jerry. They had both come to the conclusion that what they had was nothing more than puppy love – it wasn't the real thing. However the extent of their love neither was willing yet to let go. It made for many painful exchanges.

"You are such a pig at times," Mellie scoffed, turning her back to him and closing her eyes. Fitz lay there impatiently, waiting for Mellie's breathing to slow and even. He didn't wait long. After he was sure that his wife was sleeping, he tossed the blankets from his body and stood from the bed.

Grabbing his phone off the nightstand, Fitz headed toward Jerry's room. He cracked the door to the toddler's room and smiled at the sight of his son sleeping quietly in his crib, his thumb in his mouth. He placed a kiss on the little boy's forehead and left the room, leaving the door cracked a fraction of an inch. Jerry was afraid of the dark, but Mellie refused to allow the small child to sleep with a nightlight. She thought forcing him into darkness would build character. Fitz disagreed.

He headed toward the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. He sat at the island, savoring the chocolate taste that he craved at the moment. He stared at his phone, warring with himself over what to do. He tentatively reached a hand toward the cellphone before pulling it back in a hurry.

He crammed another bite of cereal into his mouth and slowly chewed. It felt like a ball of lead had taken residence in his lower intestine. He didn't know that he could feel so guilty about something that seemed so innocent.

He finished his cereal and took the bowl to the sink, washing it and hoping that he would have a clear answer to his predicament once he had finished. That wasn't the case. He turned back to the counter and took a deep breath. It was now or never.

Picking the phone up, he searched for his contacts and went through them until he found the one he was searching for. His thumb hesitated over the call button before he finally placed it heavily on the screen. After three rings, the person on the other end answered with a friendly hello. Fitz took a heavy breath before responding with:

"Is this Olivia?"