The John F. Kennedy Center for Performing Arts rang with the sounds of several instruments in the midst of tuning and warming up, chorus members gliding through scales and arpeggios, and the joyous voices of symphony members who hadn't seen each other during the months of the off season. The weather outside was sunny but frigid, which was the expected weather for a December Tuesday.

Fitz!" yelled a cheerful female voice, and principal cellist, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant, III, looked up from his music stand to give a sparkling smile to his good friend, the soprano section leader.

"Hey, Abby!" He stood and engulfed her in a warm embrace. "How have you been? Is Stephen joining us this season?"

"I've been good! Stephen is here somewhere talking to his 'bass bros'." She said with faux exasperation and a smile. "How've you been? Any lucky ladies in your life?" she said with a wink.

Fitz groaned. "The ink is barely dry on my divorce papers, Abs! Geez. I've spent most of the break with Karen and my mother."

Abby's face softened at the mention of Fitz's little sister, Karen, and his mother. "How are Karen and Lillian doing?"

Fitz smiled and replied "Kare is great, in her final year at Georgetown. And mom is, well, she's mom. She keeps telling me how happy she is to have Mellie out of my life." He finished the statement with a grimace.

"Well, good riddance I say!" Abby leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Do you know if the rumors about Doyle are true? The chatter about him has been nonstop."

"There's likely some truth to the rumors." Fitz attempted to evade, but after a full minute of Abby's death glare, he broke and leaned back in and whispered, "Mental institution in Pennsylvania."

"I knew it!" Abby nearly screeched. She had the decency to look chastened after Fitz hissed at her to keep it down. "I knew it." She said at a more appropriate volume. "He was acting so crazy last season. I'm surprised the concert master didn't have to step in and take over before season end."

Fitz nodded in agreement while wincing at Abby's blunt phrasing.

Abby continued, "You know, Fitzy, there's another rumor going around about who's stepping in as conductor for this concert." A sly grin formed on her face as she nudged him with her elbow.

Fitz avoided Abby's eyes and gave a slow nod, still reeling himself from the information that his longtime friend, symphony manager, Cyrus Beene, had shared with him that very morning.

"It's true?" Abby whisper-yelled "The Olivia Pope is our guest conductor? The youngest American Prize Conducting Award-winner? The only person under thirty who has won four Grammys for Best Contemporary Classical Composition? She's the guest conductor?"

"That very same one, yes." Fitz nodded and sighed, silently praying for someone to call Abby back to the risers to join the chorus. No one knew how highly Fitz regarded Olivia's work. He was wary about working with her, though, because she was known in the musical community as a bit of a hard ass. Fitz was brought out of his silent musing by Abby's voice

"I am going to kick her ass!" Abby laughed as Fitz looked at her confusedly. Upon seeing his confused face, Abby explained,

"Liv and I are best friends- basically sisters. She and I met at Berklee during undergrad and the rest was history. We have lunch at least once a week- well we didn't when she was doing her program a few years ago- but we have since she finally settled back down in D.C. but that's not important! What's important is she knew and didn't tell me!"

She finally finished her rant. Before Fitz could respond, Cyrus was calling him over. He politely and somewhat regretfully excused himself from the conversation before lightly jogging over to Cyrus. Cyrus motioned for him to follow as he began walking down the winding corridors of Kennedy Center.

"What's going on, Cy?" Fitz asked. Without turning around or breaking stride, Cyrus explained

"I want you to meet someone."

Five Minutes Later

Quinn Perkins, the symphony orchestra's assistant manager, stood as Fitz and Cyrus approached saying, "Dr. Pope is waiting in your office, Cy." Fitz's jaw dropped when he realized who he was about to meet and work with, his favorite composer. Her dramatic opera series Over A Cliff featured some of Fitz's favorite Broadway shows ever. He had gone to one in particular- Gladiators over a dozen times during its run on Broadway.

But the shows compared to nothing he had heard about the woman. If she was as much of a strict, hard assed person as rumors made her out to be, he was afraid the enchantment would wear off.

"Oh, good," Cyrus said as he walked over to his office. He gave the door two light taps before opening it fully. Once everyone was in, he began introductions. "Dr. Pope, let me introduce you to our principal cellist, Mr. Fitzgerald Grant." Fitz saw a sparkle of recognition in her eyes before she spoke, stretching out a perfectly manicured hand as she did so.

"Mr. Grant, it's a pleasure to meet you." She said smoothly, offering a warm smile. His breath hitched as he finally met her chocolate brown doe eyes. Her hand was petite, and his hand swallowed hers whole. He couldn't stop his eyes from quickly flicking up and down her body, lingering on the curves that were accentuated by a perfectly tailored cream pantsuit and the legs that seemed to go on for miles due to the high Louboutin pumps she wore. He offered her a bright smile as he replied,

"The pleasure is all mine, Dr. Pope." The two stared at each other for a moment too long before quickly breaking eye contact and dropping hands. Quinn interjected,

"Mr. Grant will be able to help you with anything you might need. This job would usually be reserved for our concert master, but we have a guest filling in that spot this season since our normal concert master, Elizabeth North, is out for maternity leave. Feel free to stay and get acquainted, rehearsal starts in twenty." With that, Cyrus and Quinn breezed out of the room leaving Fitz and Olivia alone.

Fitz broke the silence and spoke in a businesslike tone, "So, Dr. Pope, as Quinn said, rehearsal begins in twenty minutes. It's the full symphony- not just orchestra, as I'm sure you know."

"I am aware, yes," she nodded in confirmation. "I'm eager to begin rehearsals. And, please, call me Maestro. It's much simpler than Dr. Pope and I'm sure everyone was used to calling Hollis maestro."

He nodded but then frowned before asking, "Not Maestra? I mean since you're a woman?"

"I truly have no preference, Mr. Grant. Plus, I've gotten used to it since this is a male dominated field." She smiled slightly before her eyes once again lit up in recognition.

"Wait- Grant! Are you Big Gerry's son?" She asked excitedly.

"I am." He said somewhat reluctantly and waited for the pity-filled stare that he had seen too many times since his father's overdose three years ago. He was shocked when the stare never came.

"Gerry and I interacted briefly when I conducted a concert series at Carnegie Hall. He sang one of the bass solos. I loved his voice so much." She gushed. He was taken aback by her giddiness, but it was refreshing compared to the somber talk that usually surrounded his father's name.

"He was a huge fan of yours, knew every word of Gladiators by heart." He said sincerely. He was surprised to see tears spring to her eyes, but they were gone before he could blink.

"I am honored, truly." She glanced at the Movado watch perched on her wrist and declared that it was time for their departure. He opened the door and smiled,

"After you, Maestro." She thanked him and walked toward the stage area. He grinned as he followed her out, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.