I started writing this fanfic after "Boom Goes the Dynamite." Fitz had found out about Defiance and Olitz was on the rocks. It was during the long hiatus I decided I needed to see them speaking to each other, so this fanfic series was born. This story diverges with the TV show after the events that happened in season 2 episode 15. The paragraphs that are italicized take place in the present. I just edited it to make it easier to read.

Chapter 1

She sat at the airport terminal, waiting, watching. Every man with a buzz-cut, non-descript suit and sun-glasses filled her with a momentary sense of anxiety. Were they one of his?

She had been planning this for over a month. Sometimes she thought she could never pull it off, but she created a new life for Lindsay Dwyer in less time. She could do this.

She could leave it all behind. So what if she loved her job? She could find another one . . . eventually. Maybe it wouldn't be as exciting as being the keeper of all the dirty little secrets of the most powerful people in United States, but who's to say she couldn't do it all again in another part of the world? After all, she had the knack of meeting the right people at the right time.

People. Her people. How could she leave them? She left them rich, if nothing else. She told herself she couldn't be responsible for their damaged psyches forever. That there had to be a time when she could draw a line under their names in her heart and say the debt had been paid.

The last client that Olivia Pope and Associates ever took was the CEO of one of the largest banking institution in the world. They fixed his problem, but it came with a heavy price tag. In all honesty, it was blackmail, pure and simple. When Olivia demanded her fee of $60 million, even the jaded banker balked a little.

"I was told you give a fair deal, Ms. Pope."

"After what you did? This is a bargain." She said evenly. She didn't want to dwell on what he did, thinking how silly it was now that she ever thought she wore the white hat. Nevertheless, he kept his side of the deal and deposited the money in an off-shore account Olivia had specifically set up for her great escape. She distributed $10 million among her associates evenly. She kept the rest, thinking that it should be enough to elude the most powerful man in the world. At least she thought it would be enough for the next 5 years until he was a little less powerful.

Fitz.

Just the thought of him stirred up so many emotions just simmering below the surface of her mind; love, anger, fear, desire, and an overwhelming sense of loss. Somehow, she never thought that their story would cumulate in a dark electrical closet at the White House. It had been three years since they had sex. Three years since of keeping herself in check. Three years of pushing him away, when all she wanted to do was feel his heartbeat next to hers, to feel his skin rub against hers, to lick his sweat, to take him in and taste his salty essence. Three years since she felt his sure tongue explore every fold of her womanhood. Three years since she felt his smile on her stomach as he kissed every inch of her body.

There were no smiles in that small place where they found themselves giving into to their desperate need to feel something. For a moment, it worked. All they could feel were their bodies calling out to each other and the push and pull of flesh. She sought out his mouth, her tongue warring with his, sucking and licking and biting. The angle at which he took her was slightly painful, but it felt so good. It always felt good. It felt right. It felt like home.

He released her as she turned around to kiss him. He entered her again, raising one of her legs to get a better angle. He pumped into her again and again until they climaxed together. They usually did. She had never experienced that with any other person. Only Fitz. It was as if he marked that part of her soul. Her very pleasure belonged to him and him alone.

Then he abruptly pulled out of her, buckling up his pants and refusing to look her in the eyes. The hope that was building inside of her since she looked into his eyes over baby Ella began to die. Somehow, she thought if they were alone together it would all be alright again. There would be no need for accusations or apologies. That their bodies would tell each other everything that was in their hearts and words would no longer be necessary.

He started straightening his suit, not looking her way. The momentary connection she felt with him was completely lost. The last words he said to her started running on a loop in her mind again; "Screwing your mistress is one thing . . ." She scrambled to find her jacket. She quickly put it on and tried to pull herself together as best she could. She could feel his seed leaking out of her body. She grabbed her panties and tried to clean up the best she could. As soon as she was done, he opened the door, obviously not wanting to spend another second in the same room together. She stuffed her panties in her purse and then bolted out the door.

She stopped half-way down the hallway. This is it, she thought. Say something, anything. The first thing that came out was something that she had been thinking about for months, for years. "I made a mistake."

He passed her by and half turned, still not able to look her in the eyes, "We both did. It won't happen again." Before he headed back down the hallway, he finally shot her a brief glance filled with grief and guilt and anger. It took her breath away, and she gasped with pain. He turned to her again almost like he wanted to run and give her comfort.

"I was talking about Defiance." His lips tightened. She half expected that he would yell at her.

Instead, he stepped towards her, "That wasn't a mistake," he said quietly as he put his hands in his pockets and looked her directly in the eyes with something resembling regret. "That was betrayal. We are done. I may not be able to control my erections around you, but that does not mean I want you. We . . . are done."

And that was it. Every single bad thing she thought about herself and this "relationship" was confirmed right there. She was nothing to him. She meant nothing to him. She was a good fuck who could be easily replaced. She was the side piece. The whore. The mistress. And she was a fool to think that any of these stolen moments meant anything more than a diversion to him. She wished she had never met him. She ran down the hallway, unshed tears blurring her vision. Once she stepped outside, she knew that she would never step foot in the White House again.