Hi there. This is a reworking of a story I wrote in 2014-2015, for another fandom. After re-reading it last year, I wanted to see how Olivia and Fitz could fit in this. This story will include humor, romance, some angst, and dance. (I teach and choreograph for a living, so combining two of my creative outlets is always cool.) It's not a long story (approx. 15-20 chapters), but it's substantial and I'll update every week.

Plus, it's my birthday so I thought why not share the story today?! I hope you'll give it a try. Leave a review or come hang out on Tumblr / Twitter.

"5, 6, 7, 8! Let's go!"

The bassline rang in her ears as she began. Powerfully stretching her legs into a chassé across the floor.

Flick, jump, pop, hold.

Creating unique shapes and razor-sharp lines with her body as she moved to the music. Hitting every beat when asked to. Lunging into a deep plié before executing a flawless triple pirouette, she glared at the target she used as a spot, finding it every time she whipped her head around. Giving the audience "fierce" ten times over whenever she made eye contact while performing. She wanted everyone to watch and keep their gaze on her. Notice what she could do.

As the group of eight dancers moved into a new formation, allowing their lines to switch, she waited for the turn to outshine them all again. Staying consistent, but always looking for that moment, she quickly turned as she returned to the front.

"Work it, Olivia! That's what I'm talking about."

The burst of energy was in her veins, each time anyone shouted her name. For the last 32 counts of the combination, Olivia Pope gave all she had, adding the extra flare when she contorted her figure, circling her shoulders seductively, pointing her toes, and stretching her arms out. Then with a deep breath, she hit a pose to coincide with the last chord of music. Although she wasn't alone and moved well with the seven performers, it didn't feel like she was part of a larger group. It was just her, reveling in the applause from the production table.

One of her favorite choreographers, Brigitta, ran to the front of the room. "Great work, everyone. I'll see you on Monday to review everything and we will start another piece."

As with every rehearsal, everyone clapped in appreciation at its finality. Olivia rushed over to her huge dance bag, in the corner. She pulled the towel, drying off the layers of perspiration, as well grabbing a water bottle. Gathering a few moments to decompress, she mumbled the sentences that always lingered when she danced.

I am a performer.

A soft hand grasped her sweaty shoulder. It was Stephen, the director of the musical revue Olivia was cast in. Their friendship and partnership traveled back to a time when Olivia was still a newbie in town, waiting to be called upon at auditions, having a number in the hundreds pinned to her shirt. He saw something in her and she was ready to be the best for him. Stephen was all about unbelievable commitment, hitting marks, and a strong work ethic. Olivia knew she was the right girl for him, because she was capable of providing what he needed in a dancer.

"Loved your energy today. Keep it up, alright?"

Olivia smiled, "Thank you. I will."

"Great," he beamed. "I'll catch you on the flip side."

She waited until he walked away to unravel her hair out of the rubber band. Usually pressed straight, her edges were beginning to curl again, due to the heat. Other dancers approached, giving hollow compliments, then wanting advice to keep up with the group, any tips for improvement. Even though she wasn't the choreographer, Olivia kindly responded, but inwardly resenting their timing. It was after work and she needed to leave.

She didn't care to mingle with her co-workers. It just wasn't her style to make buddies with fellow dancers. Especially after her best friends Danielle and Abigail moved away to Austin and Los Angeles, respectively. It wasn't their fault, but Olivia resented them leaving and her heart was broken. Then it became her motto that if she didn't get close, she wouldn't get disappointed.

That was the thing about Olivia; no one else was allowed to be in her world. When it came to her work, the craft she spent of her life perfecting, it was all about her. No one was going to question her goals or interrupt her from reaching them.

I am a diva.

As if someone read her thoughts, people started to leave. Olivia smiled to herself, quite pleased by the mass exit. Packing her belongings, then switching her jazz shoes for pair of worn and comfortable Keds. She checked her phone; her brother sent her a short agenda of the evening they planned together.

Boisterous laughter distracted her from responding; it was coming from across the room. Stephen was talking to someone she had never seen before.

The man appeared to be a foot taller than her petite frame. Casually dressed in jeans and some nondescript solid colored t-shirt that was a little too tight, expressing himself through lavish hand gestures. Some of the annoying dancers raced over to him, excitedly saying "hi", and rushing to take selfies. With the fanfare, he could have been some hot-shot socialite's son or up-and-coming business owner. In New York, that wouldn't have been a far cry from the truth.

Stephen laughed or commented loudly as each interaction occurred. He and the stranger glanced in Olivia's direction, several times, which made her a bit uncomfortable.

"Liv," he called out. "Can you come over here, please?"

Rolling her eyes, but never wanting to disappoint, she sauntered over.

"Yes?"

"I want you to meet Fitz. He's going to be in the music video I'm directing. The new single from LaToia Carlisle? We had been going over things and I think you two would be a great combo for this concept."

Crossing her arms, eyeing the man suspiciously, Olivia was already over this staged conversation. A bubble bath and a large glass of wine was calling her name.

Fitz extended his hand, "Hi, Olivia. Nice to meet you."

"Hello."

Stephen proudly stated, "Fitz is an actor from L.A. I know you've seen his work. A Bridge Between Us, Tantalize.

Twisting her lips, Olivia shrugged with a hint of boredom. "Probably. They don't ring a bell." Her quick response surprised Stephen. He raised his eyebrow, sending a wordless correction.

Fitz began to chuckle at the two in front of him. "Don't worry. I don't expect anyone to keep track of my credits. Trust me, if we work together, I won't make you look bad."

"You won't."

She refused to smile, but he did.

"Have you been in music videos before? I haven't."

"Yes, but I'm picky."

I am a bitch, baby.

The irritation was clearly expressed on Stephen's face. Not able to make Olivia adjust her attitude, he joked, "Don't mind her. She's very particular."

"I have my reasons," Olivia interrupted, never wanting to be overlooked. "I won't take any gig."

Fitz rubbed his stubbly chin, in deference. "As well as you shouldn't. By the way, I've heard great things about you. I think we would have lots of fun."

That was the problem. Olivia didn't believe in having fun while working.

Stephen added, "Shooting will take place here in the city, possibly in New Jersey. LaToia wants everything done by August, so it will work in your schedules."

"I'll have to talk to my agent," she spoke without hestitation.

"That's a great start."

Olivia squinted her eyes at Fitz's enthusiastic reply. She wasn't sure if he was trying to suck up to Stephen or herself.

Having worked together for the past three months on dance concerts and musical revues, Stephen immediately caught on to all the signs of her impending shutdown. He also wanted to stay on her good side, so he coughed loudly to break up the tension.

"Well, I know you're itching to start your weekend, so we'll let you go."

Olivia didn't want to consider this. Her big break hadn't come yet. This project could be something, but she doubted being second fiddle to a Hollywood actor would help her cause. Fitz probably didn't even know who she was.

Before she walked away, Stephen leaned in, whispering. "Think about it, okay? I wouldn't tell you about this if I didn't think you could kick ass."

"Alright," I sighed.

Fitz waved. "Nice to meet you, Olivia. It was a pleasure. Hope to see you soon."

She released a superficial smile and turned to leave. The duffel bag hitting her side slowly as she trudged down the steps. The conversation made her think.

I know what I want. No, really. I know what I want.

Olivia needed to be more than being in the background. It had been five years, taking more classes, getting cast in ensemble roles in jazz dance ensembles, which led to background dancer gigs in small concerts by up and coming pop and alt-soul artists. But maybe with enough incentive, she would take on this project. As long as it didn't ruin her chances for the big tour she was eyeing on.

New York City was treating her well. Right before Christmas, Olivia was able to find an apartment, being able to secure a lease for six months. After the girls moved, her rent skyrockted and she couldn't stay in the decent spot they were at. Spending the night on couches, renting a hotel room outside the city, which affected her commutes drastically, was becoming a pain in the ass. The new place was alright; it didn't seem like the right fit for her, but with the flexible schedule she was trying to keep, always prepared to take a flight or bus out of town whenever called, she chose to deal with it. She never liked staying in one spot.

It had been so long she since felt like any town was home. When her family decided to leave the overcrowded suburbs of Washington, D.C.., she and her brother grew up in a small town outside of the beaches of Delaware. Everyone questioned the Popes' game plan. It was cute, but she had to leave as soon as possible. The area was saturated with tourists between April and October, not exactly a place to flourish and build a successful performing career. Unless she truly considered plans to include selling popcorn on the boardwalk or sitting at a pizza joint off of Route 1.

As soon as she graduated from high school, Olivia took her savings, two bags full of clothes, and moved on, setting her vision on New York. The path was harder than she thought. For a while, she didn't get any work. But after making a few connections and being at the right place, at the right time, Olivia was finally getting work. Booking gigs for music videos, performing at concerts, and a few commercials that required some dance background. She enjoyed being constantly on the go and doing her own thing. The endgame - being the next big thing.

Harrison, her younger brother by 18 months, traveled with Olivia whenever he could. Since he was a good influence and knew how to keep her calm during stressful audition season, she bribed him with gifts and other things to get him here in the city. She worked extremely hard to find a place for them to live.

They were extremely close; to the point that she hired him to be my assistant or "babysitter". He always knew where she needed to be, advised her on the jobs she needed to take. He kept track of her because from past experience, it was easy to get out of hand and allow life to get the best of her. Harri - his childhood nickname - was the only constant in her life.

Olivia was walking out of the dance studio, ready to weave through the crowds of foot traffic, when she received a text from him.

I bet you're tired. Let's go out and have a drink.

Rolling her eyes at the thought of dealing with his crazy buddies, her thumbs moved at lighting speed.

No thanks. How about we stay at home?

Olivia made it around the block, when Harrison's response came in.

My friends will be there and I want to hang out, so unless you want to sulk at home, come with.

Fine.

Her brother knew what he was talking. Nine of ten times, whenever they went out, Olivia made a connection. Her next big break could greet her at the door.

The club, or whatever Harrison called it, was very interesting. Low lights. A disco ball. Lots of people in their age bracket, dancing, and drinking. The music was very crappy, but the drinks were at a great price. It couldn't always be perfect.

Olivia and Harrison sat at the bar, along with his buddies from work. After a quick rundown of the rehearsal and a shower, Olivia changed into a halter top and jeans, and pulling her hair into a high ponytail. Nothing fancy, but still memorable, just in case a talent agent or a friend of a friend was in attendance.

Which led her to her regular hobby whenever she was out on the town, or playing wingman to her brother. People-watching. So-called hipsters. Some were dressed to the nine's. There were some attractive guys around, but per usual, they were attached to someone else. As she drank from her bottle of water, her eyes ventured to a particular section in the corner. The group looked like tourists, or folks who clearly didn't frequent the spot. The tall one piqued her interest. White dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. Full head of hair. Moving around to the rhythm. Surrounded by a few ladies. Another life of the party-type. Then, he turned around.

"Oh no," she groaned, immediately shifting her body towards her brother. "You have got to be shitting me."

Harrison leaned over quickly, ready to protect. "What is it?"

Olivia used her hand to shield her eyes, replied in a low register. "That's the guy Stephen wants me to work with. I don't like him."

"What? How is that possible? You just met him."

"He's going to outshine me. I just know it," she sulked. "He's an actor. A fucking popular actor. Probably will charm the pants off of everyone on crew. I want to be the lead, not him."

Harrison replied by chuckling. "Well, until that is confirmed when you begin filming, if you say yes, keep your head down. Pull out your phone or talk to other people so he won't bother you. I mean, he's famous, and he's all the way over there, so why would he even talk to you?"

Sucking her teeth by Harrison's snarky but truthful comments, Olivia ordered a martini. Immediately, she began to imagine herself on stage with her favorite singers and popstars. Being their main squeeze. Her goal was to be someone's go-to, number one stage companion. Being the ultimate muse, bringing the artist's vision or lyrics to life through movement…

But the blissful moment ended, when she felt someone nearby.

"Hey!"

Olivia jumped at the touch of the stranger's hand on her shoulder blade, receiving a nasal attack of cologne. It was him. Fitz. How she didn't realize that he gotten so close to her, she would never know. Apparently, the heightened sense of awareness that was embedded in her psyche as a dancer, took a nosedive.

"May I help you?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, amused by her harsh inquiry. "I happened to see you here by yourself and I wanted to catch up, see how you were doing." His eyes were bright with desire; she was about to shut that down.

"I'm here on purpose and I'm fine. Sounds good?"

His lips formed the shape of a small "O", an automatic reaction to her dig.

"Hard to catch, yeah?"

"I suppose."

Olivia waved to the bartender, asking for a glass of wine. Fitz nudged the side of her arm with his elbow. His blue eyes glowed as he continued to butter her up.

"I know this afternoon was a bit rocky. But I know who you are. I think you are incredibly talented. I've met several dancers in the past, and no one has it like you do."

"Mmhmm."

"You've heard all of that before, I get it. I already know you probably don't like sharing the spotlight with anyone, especially someone like me, but I would be honored if we were able to work together."

Olivia sucked in a breath, before easing back into the rich blend of red she was given. Something was different or off. She felt his eyes on her, even when he was supposed to focus on the drink of whatever alcohol he ordered. He wasn't backing down when she blatantly shrugged him off countless times - at the studio and at the bar. He appeared to be extremely confident. He wanted something, but she knew how actors could be. She wasn't about to give in to his silly game.

The DJ began to spin a top 40 jam.

"Care to dance?"

"Hell no," Olivia exclaimed, shaking her head. "I have been on my feet for six hours straight and that's a light day. I'm not wasting my energy for some social moving around, just for the heck of it. But you go ahead."

Fitz's eyebrows rose in disbelief, but he continued. "Only trying to make light conversation."

She knew he was trying too hard to win her over. His attempts at flirting were borderline annoying, but she did appreciate his company, so she threw him a bone. "What brings you to NYC?"

"Work. I go where there's opportunity."

"A music video?"

Fitz thanked the bartender, before continuing. "It's something different. When you're on a soundstage for 12-18 hours a day, going through the motions, there's always a desire to find something to break the monotony. Plus, I adore LaToia's sound. Her previous videos have been fun and provocative. When my agent called, I couldn't say no."

Olivia tapped her fingers on the counter, reviewing the spoken information. It sounded believable, but anyone in the arts had a way of building up a lackluster story into something more attractive.

"You talk a lot."

"And you haven't said much of anything," he teased.

Finally, after getting her fill of the ambiance, Olivia slightly turned to face Fitz - the corner of her lips rose into a rare smile, which prompted him to mirror her expression.

"You gotta earn that honor, buckaroo."

More to come soon. I know some of you are waiting for The Look. Don't worry...it will be here before you know it. xo