Olivia Pope felt very…old. Standing in front of her bedroom vanity clad in a bathrobe, with her hair in curlers, she also felt ridiculous.

It was funny how life turned out sometimes. At 39 years old, she was Washington D.C's premier crisis management consultant. In a matter of a few years, her tiny boutique firm of Olivia Pope & Associates had grown exponentially and she had a client base that would make any political strategist or PR agent jealous.

And yet, life seemed empty somehow. Sure, she had great friends, a great career and was still a size two, but she was…going through the motions.

Olivia, you need some excitement in your life. She thought as she began to apply make-up to her face.

Hopefully the next few hours provided some form of excitement. After all, it was the Kennedy Center Honors. How many times did you get to be in the same room with George Clooney and…Fitzgerald Grant?

At the thought of being in the same building, let alone same room with her former boss and ex-president, her heart jumped into her throat.

Don't choke when you see him. Olivia thought.

It had been years. A whole year since Fitzgerald Grant had left the White House. The second term of prosperity, reduced deficits and a successful military surge in Afghanistan had culminated quietly and smoothly. Very different from the early years of the Grant Administration that had been plagued with setbacks and innuendo. It was a term that Olivia had not been a part of.

Five years…It had been five years of her never hearing his voice on the phone. Five years since she last saw him up close…

How would she feel seeing him tonight? It would be a lot easier if there had been closure…

Fitzgerald Grant had checked his watch for the millionth time. Sitting in the plush Presidential box made him oddly nostalgic. And not in a good way. It reminded him of all the times when he was president. When his ex-wife and the former First Lady would poke him constantly in the side…

Smile, wave…don't forget the cameras. She used to say through gritted teeth. One of the many benefits of being an ex-president. Those pressures were no longer. If he had it his way, he would be skiing in Vermont with Karen and Jerry, reading Keats and working on his memoir. But being a popular ex-president, typically resulted in him getting invited to such functions. Kennedy Center Honors, State dinners, UN delegation parties…

I can't wait for this to end…he thought bored as he sighed deeply. The performances were a tad bit dry and the dedications were boring. There were only so many Marin Scorsese movie could stomach. Though he did not dare express this out loud, seeing that the legendary director was literally sitting right behind him. As his eyes wandered, from the Goodfellas dedication piece being played, they landed on the box adjacent to him. In it sat a few recognizable faces, some who worked in the Grant Administration and now worked for President Langston. Second rate staffers, people from the Justice department, and…

His heart violently jumped into his throat…he had not seen her in years. With the exception of on television and from afar at White House Correspondents dinners of times past.

She had done everything to avoid him when it ended. Changed her number, ignoring his emails. Cyrus and Olivia were good friends and occasionally, he would ask about her.

So, how's Olivia? He had asked a few months ago, when he had attended Cyrus's 60th birthday party in Georgetown.

Oh, she's great, business as usual. She's really doing well.

He knew that. He followed her work. He had kept magazines, articles and publications that profiled her. Her helping a major corporation recover from an embezzlement scandal, the washed up, drug addicted child star who she had helped become a critical acclaimed darling…

The congressmen who had been accused of murdering his mistress who now had a wildly popular prime time slot on cable news…

But to see her sitting there, elegantly draped in a creamy white gown, her hair pulled away from her face, he was taken back to eight years ago…on the night of his inauguration. When they had made love all night at the Ritz…

He did not realize, as his mind was lost in times past, times of stolen kisses, impassioned nights and memories past that the object of his attention had noticed him staring. Her expressive eyes widened in shock as they made contact with his own grey ones.

Fitz felt as the blood in his veins had stopped flowing. That face, those eyes….

His eyes travelled to her mouth, her plump lips spreading in a dazzling smile and mouthing the word "Hi."

Staring at Fitz was as if life no longer made sense again. As though her lungs had made contact with too much oxygen …

Dear lord, what do I do? She could feel her face spreading into a shit eating grin. She felt dorky and stupid as her heart rate speed up with every moment that passed. His focus was razor sharp. Even after all this time, with years of words and time between them, she knew her baby. And she knew when he was looking at her. His face bore no signs of time, still as handsome as he was that day in New Hampshire when she had told him off…

"Hi." She mouthed ridiculously, as his face spread into a smile. He smiled back, flashing a dazzling smile that made her feel light headed.

I can't do this. She thought stupidly. So she did the only logical thing she could do.

She got up, and walked out. Step by step, excusing herself from the box, she tried to regain her composure. She tried to be calm, level headed and unaffected. But her body would not will her. As she walked into the empty hallway, her golden stilettos clacking against the marble, the memories she had tried to suppress for the past few years had come flooding back. The long nights, the stolen kisses…

She finally stopped walking when she heard footsteps behind her. She did not turn around. She did not need to. She knew the sound of his footsteps…

They haunted her dreams. The rhythmic sound of his dress shoes against the floor that used to make her heart flutter when she sat in her White House office years ago…

"Liv?" His voice called. It was like a whisper, but it was amplified by the silence of the hall. She wanted to run. To do the rational thing. The thing she had told herself before arriving to the Center…the thing she had been thinking about all night as she got dressed. To stay calm and be composed in his presence. To not choke…

She turned around and saw him nearly five feet away. Tall, dashing in his tuxedo. As he slowly approached, Olivia felt her face flush.

"Mr. President." She said her voice uneven as she tried to focus on his bowtie. With each approaching step he took, it became difficult. That familiar cologne encased her. Masculine, sexy…Tom Ford, Black Orchid. When he used to sneak to her apartment, she would sleep in the sheets they made love in for days, just to be around that intoxicating smell. Olivia thought as he finally was within arm's length of her.

"Hey, stranger." He said friendly. His baritone was music to her ears. She swallowed hard.

"Hi."

They stared at each other for a few moments. Olivia could no longer take it. His bowtie was not enough of a distraction to keep her from those grey orbs…

"Are you as bored as I am?" He asked kindly, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah…I…was kind of…bored, Scorsese's not really my guy." She said lamely, forcing a smile.

He nodded, smiling widely. "I know. Hitchcock is your favorite director."

Olivia smiled, her nerves calming a bit. "You remembered?"

"Of course." He said quietly. He took a moment to drink her in, his eyes traveling from her face to the valley of her cleavage. Olivia felt her skin heating up once more.

"I got to say, you look good, kid." He said smoothly, licking his lips. Kid…his favorite nickname for her when they were kidding around. The hallmarks of times past. It was Kid when they were flirting, being playful. Behind closed doors, when they were in the throes…it had been Sweet Baby.

Olivia giggled stupidly. "Thanks, you don't look so bad yourself…so how's post-presidency treating you?"

What a dumb question…

He shrugged and sighed. "It's going well. Just meet with Simon & Shuster-"

"Yeah, I heard, big book deal." Olivia finished as he nodded.

"And you must be, as busy as ever, making deals, I'm sure you've broken a few hearts." Fitz said smoothly. Olivia could feel the heat radiating from him. There it was…that Grant charm. He could not help it. Voters fell for it, and years ago she had fallen for it. Hell, she was still falling for it.

"I hardly have time to break hearts, Mr. President." She said, staring him in the eye. She could see his smile vanishing, his eyebrow cocking.

"Mr. President , Livy? Really?" He asked.

Olivia snorted. This again. She stared him in the face. "Well, that is your name, is it not?"

"No, I'm not President anymore. Remember?" He said sharply. The smoothness, the pretense was gone. The razor sharp focus had returned.

Olivia rolled her eyes. The nerves had evaporated at his tone. She did not want to do this. She was not in the mood. After years of therapy, forgetting and speed dates, she thought she would be able to move on. But she could not. The hurt was still there. The feelings were too raw. The way they ended had been too abrupt to stand in this majestic hallway and make small talk.

She turned on her heel to walk away. But before she could even take her first step, he grabbed her upper arm, pulling her flush against him. He leaned forward, pushing her hair away and whispering in her ear.

"It's been too long." He said softly. The tingle generating all over Olivia's body from his touch, the feel of his body was too much.

"Fitz…I…"

"I know. And I'm sorry. But that's in the past. I'm in Washington for a few more days. I'm staying at the Ritz. In our favorite suite. You don't have to. But I would love for you to spend the-"

"No! Not this again, I can't keep being-"

"Liv, I know. I know how it's been. It's been that way for me to. But we have no excuses anymore. I'm not President. I'm not married anymore. And I'm definitely not over you. If you feel the same, if you felt what I felt tonight in there when I looked at you, then come to me tonight. We don't have to do anything. We can just talk. But I need to see you. Even if it's just one last time. Even if it does not become anything…I need to see you, midnight."

And with that, he let go of Olivia and walked away, leaving Olivia with only one thought on her mind.

Hopefully there wasn't too much traffic heading toward the Ritz…