AN: Always a reader, first time a writer. I don't know where this came from but it wouldn't get out of my head. Olitz is always endgame for me & I'll forever say screw Shonda with her doppelganger Olivia Pope who kidnapped the real OP in s2 and made her vanish.

This won't be pretty and there'll be a lot of triggers here, so I'll always try to post a warning/not go too far into detail.

This will be a bit dark, but I promise there will be light too.

"Are you sure about this?" Harrison Wright asked his best friend Olivia Pope for the thousandth time.

Again, she nodded her head; her doe eyes wide as she took a deep breath. They stood in front of the D.C PD, Olivia's heart thudding wildly in her chest. She wasn't supposed to be here, this shouldn't have happened to her. This was supposed to be the internship of dreams for the twenty-four year old, not a one-way ticket to hell.

"He's a powerful man, Liv. We both know what he's going to do to you. I need you to one hundred percent certain. I need to know what you want out of this. What's the endgame here."

Olivia swallowed hard, every inch of her in pain. The oversized hoodie did little to cover the handshape bruise stretching around her neck, nor did it hide the bruises on her wrists. She felt dirty, useless and stupid at the thought of telling a room full of strangers what'd happened to her - what he'd done.

"I can't let him get away with it, Harrison. What if he does it to someone else? Oh god, what if he's done it to someone else." her bottom lip quivered, her eyebrows knotting together in the middle of her forehead just at the thought.

"He probably has. Men like B.G always have more skeletons in their closet, Liv. It's just finding the card to pluck in order to topple the house."

God, she was going to be sick.

Wrenching away from Harrison, Olivia barely made it to the bottom of the steps before what little contents in her stomach spilled from her lips. She'd refused to make a complaint last night, barely able to make it through the evidence kit. It was only when Harrison promised his unrelenting support that she'd gathered enough strength and enough confidence to even move her feet towards the police station. She'd nearly burned her skin off showering beforehand, though.

"Maybe we should go back to the apartment. You're not ready to do this. I don't want to force you into this. I'm sorry." He moved to put a hand on Olivia's back to guide her back to his awaiting card, but Olivia shrank away. She flinched so hard that Harrison jumped back; hands high. "I'm not going to hurt you, Liv…."

An expression of guilt caused Olivia's normally high cheekbones to sag, her stomach filling with concrete as she stared back at her friend. She'd never be afraid of Harrison, ever; he'd been her best friend since grade school, but muscle memory was a bitch.

"Harry...I'm…"

"I know, Liv. It's fine. Let's go home."

"No. He can't get away with this. Come hell or highwater, he's going to pay."

Harrison nodded, holding out a hand out for Olivia to take at her own discretion.

Minutes later they were inside the station.

Olivia held onto Harrison's hand tightly as she approached the desk. A portly looking male cop, possibly in his early thirties, glanced at her over his glances.

"Can I help you?"

"I'd like to file a report. I was attacked."

"One day, son, this whole shebang will be yours to head." Gerry Grant, also known as Big Gerry, announced to his son, clapping the younger man on his back as they stood in his father's re-election campaign headquarters.

Beyond the office windows, the sky had begun to darken.

"You forgot, dad," Fitz laughed gingerly, skating out from beneath his father's hold, "elections are a thing. You can't just give me your Senate seat."

"Poppycock. Bush gave his seats over to W and that other idiot. You're ten times the men they are. I've done all the work; you'll just have to run the ticket one day and you'll be a shoe-in."

Thirty-three year old Fitzgerald Grant shook his head at his father's antics, rolling his eyes. Father and son couldn't be more diametrically opposed if they tried, While Big Gerry was a take all be all, Fitz was a hardcore idealist. He wasn't suited for his father's hardball politics - the nit and grit, dog-whistle, backdoor dog-fight politics.

"I haven't thrown my hat in a ring past state politics, Dad. I don't know about…"

"Pish-posh. You'll be president someday, mark my words." A couple of interns skated through, Big Gerry pausing to eye one appreciatively. "And you know, the benefit of being president, being in power? All the women love it." he laughed, slapping Fitz on the back. "I swear, this girls just can't get enough when they know you rule the world."

Fitz could feel his stomach turn at the thought. Any illusion Fitz had of his parents in a happy marriage had ended long ago. He knew his father was a perpetual skirt chaser, and unlike his father, Fitz's mind always lingered on find the one. Someone he could spend his life with, grow old together, and perhaps save the world with one day.

"Speaking of, when are you going to marry that Millicent Cartwright? She's good stock that girl. Make a fine Nancy Reagan out of her." Big Gerry continued and Fitz smiled tightly.

"Mellie, dad, and if I propose, you'll know."

"If? You mean when. She's great stock. A win, win. A first lady in the making."

Fitz opened his mouth to retort, ready to reply that he didn't feel like Mellie was right for him solely because of the reasons his father had listed, but was cut off by the sight of two cops filtering in through the front door.

Big Gerry straightened his back, white hair slick as he held out his hand for the first cop and then the second. "Gentlemen, D.C's finest. How can I help you?"

"Senator, we're going to have to ask you to come down to the station and answer a couple of questions about last night."

"About last night? You mean my victory party? I know it got a little out of hand, boys, but I see no reason to pull me in a day late and a dollar short. Whatever the fee is for breaking noise ordinances, I'll gladly pay it."

The cop on the left, a portly fellow, looked down at his feet, shaking his head before he brought his gaze back up to a bewildered Gerry. "No, sir. It's about an attack last night, on one of your interns."

"Oh god, are they alright?"

Fitz looked from his father to the cops, eyebrows raised.

"I left around midnight, I didn't see or hear anything...it must've happened after I left."

"It'd be easier to do this at the station, Sir. Give you the courtesy of learning what this is about before you speak any more."

Catching onto what the officer was insinuating, Fitz stepped in front of his father. "Now wait a minute, I'm Senator Grant's attorney here. What's going on?"

"Now wait a damn minute, Fitz, I can handle this. I demand to get to the bottom of this. Now I didn't see anything or hear anything. Why would I been questioned?"

"You're not being questioned, dad. You're being accused."