Bang! Bang!

Canon compliant until after the press conference

Olivia waits until the last question is asked to exit the press briefing room. "Tom, a moment," she gestures him away from the door and the other agent. Her gut told her all she needed to know about him. "I hope you trust me enough to speak freely," she studies his face but he reveals nothing.

She will have to take the risk. The stakes were too high. Fitz, the man that is more than she ever dreamed possible almost died. Olivia was 'woke as fuck and anyone remotely involved would be dead and buried before her head hit the pillow tonight. "Anyone successfully attempting an assassination would have to have someone on the inside. Would you agree?" she begins building her case.

"Yes Ma'am," he responds professionally.

She is shocked he responded but encouraged. "There is a chance he may not be safe within the White House," she suggests.

"Yes Ma'am," he responds but never looks at her directly.

Olivia shudders down to her soul. "How do you recommend I keep him safe?" The silence is deafening until he speaks.

"We have a new agent. I trained him. We will meet you at Blair House in thirty minutes. Use the tunnels," he directs.

Her eyes fill with tears, "Thank you," Olivia chokes out.

"No Ma'am, thank you." He turns and barks orders into his wrist wire and agents shift into action.

Fitz descends from the podium headed back to the Oval. His brows furrow at the level of activity by the Secret Service Agents and the new faces. Fear and anxiety swirl in his gut. "Mr. President, please follow me," Tom requests approaching from the side.

"Tom, what is happening?" his voice is strained.

Tom leans in and speaks just above a whisper into his ear, "Ms. Pope and I made some immediate changes to guarantee your safety."

Fitz responds quickly, "Lead the way."

Olivia paces and her mind races waiting for him to arrive. She glances at the door repeatedly until she hears two quick knocks before the door opens wide. There he stands weary and obviously in pain, "Hi," he smiles weakly.

Her feet carry her to his side where she wraps one arm around his waist and pulls his arm around her shoulder to guide him into the room and onto the couch. "Rest here," she directs tenderly.

He can only nod as he closes his eyes. The relief of her presence and care robs him of his voice. Fitz senses the activity and voices around him but doesn't have to respond because his Livvie is handling things.

"Fitz, I'm going to put you to bed. We have about one hour before hell in the form of Mellie arrives," she explains. Olivia reaches down to help him up and down the hallway.

They enter the bedroom and his eyes fill with tears. The bedside table holds all his medication and fresh bandages to re-dress his wounds. The bed is turned back, and his pajamas are laid out next to his NAVY sweatshirt. Olivia will sleep by his side tonight. She plans to take care of him. "Liv," he begins but she silences him with a gentle kiss.

"You belong to me. I let them…never again," she shakes her head violently.

He watches in total fascination as she strips down to her panties and slips on the sweatshirt that swallows her petite frame. Slowly she removes his shoes and socks, his jacket, the belt and pulls his shirt tails out. Her hands tremble when she attempts to unbutton the shirt covering his bandaged chest. Fitz grasps her hands and kisses each, "I got this," he reassures her.

Olivia nods and wipes away a stray tear. "I need to make food so you can take your pain medication and antibiotics," she exits the room. She rushes to the kitchen so she can breathe and steady herself.

He is buttoning the pajama top when she returns with a tray. "Chef made your favorite grilled cheese and I made popcorn," she offers with a smile.

He laughs lightly, "I'll have a little of both."

She helps him arrange pillows after placing the tray on the bed. He leans back and exhales, "Is this our new normal?" He has to know. He cannot get his hopes up again.

"The beginning…I don't have it all figured out yet," she is cut off.

"We are a team-we will figure it out together," he chides.

"Okay," she confirms.

"How long before 'Tirade Mellie' arrives," he asks around a mouthful of popcorn kernels.

Olivia stiffens and the white, hot rage shoots off her body like lightning bolts. "I will handle her. She will not cross the threshold of the front door," her tone is deadly.

"One of the things I remember is her not wanting to get out of the car. Once we arrived she wanted to return to the White House. I thought her reluctance was about you, but…" he trails off but she finishes his suspicion.

"Now you question her real motivation?"

"I do. She forged my signature-giving herself the Oval," he continues to add to the case against Mellie.

"I believe there is someone on the inside," she piles on, "But for now we will focus on your recovery. We can deal with White House intrigue in the morning," she re-directs the conversation. Olivia removes the tray and helps him fully recline for the night. She climbs in next to him gingerly placing her thigh over his and presses her face into his neck.

Fitz left arm embraces her and she breaks. Her soft sobs bounce off the walls and her tears rain down onto his skin. "You can breathe now…I am where I belong…in your arms."

AN: This has been stuck in my head for years. {So sad} There is so much Mellie has never been accountable for but I had to start here.