Original story description ( March 2015)

AU. She's not the White House crisis manager, she's a clinical psychologist. He's not the president, just an ordinary citizen. This is the story of a love that was not supposed to be. Will the power of love triumph against seemingly impossible odds? OLITZ.

A/N:

Disclaimer: In this story, Kaiffer is my own invention, NOT a reference to Kaiser Permanente. All similarities are coincidental. Views expressed by the characters are not necessarily my own.

This chapter was edited on March 3, 2017, TWO YEARS AFTER ORIGINAL POSTING DATE.

Fitz leaned back on his office chair and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. He stared at the computer screen, willing it to give him a clue as to whether he should move forward. He'd already been to two different doctors to get a 'second' opinion. He was running out of options.

His eyes were getting tired and went momentarily out of focus as he re- read the information on the screen:

Physician: Dr. Olivia Pope, PhD

Specialty: Clinical psychologist.

Address: 7060 Pinewood Blvd

Kaiffer Medical Offices

It was a basic search Google search and he wished he had more information. All he had to go by was the recommendation of a friend of a friend. Supposedly, Olivia Pope was one of the very best doctors in her field. Still, he wasn't fully convinced. Basically, he was relying on word of mouth and he wished he knew more about what kind of person she was. Was she an optimist or pessimist?

At last, his fingers tapped on the wireless mouse , scrolling down to the bottom of the page.

Malpractice claims: Zero.

Sanctions: Zero.

Okay, so she had a good track record. The only thing against her was that Olivia Pope did not have her own private practice. Not that he had anything against the health care practitioners that worked for the large Health Maintenance Organization (HMO). On the contrary, he had a fair amount of respect for the health care professionals. They worked long hours, often at the mercy of arbitrary rules and regulations designed to strip away physician autonomy that had nothing to do with the welfare of their patients.

It was the HMO system itself –with its many regulations- that he despised.

It was for this reason, that he preferred going to private physicians for the health care needs of his family.

But in this case he truly had no choice. He'd already tried a couple of clinical psychologists in private practice and found them too pessimistic and he refused to believe there was no hope.

He was doing this for his son, he reminded himself. And he would do anything for his little boy; he would walk through fire if necessary to get him the help he needed.

Armed with a renewed sense of purpose, Fitz dialed the number for Kaiffer's learning center. He was on hold for fifteen minutes but then when someone finally answered the call, he was told he would be getting a call back in a day or two with available time slots.

Two days later, he got a message from Kaiffer on his answering machine giving him two time slots at 8:00 am. There was no way he could make it to an appointment at such ungodly hour. Karen's school did not start until 8:30 am; obviously, he wouldn't have time to drop her off at school and then make it to the appointment.

The next day, he called the learning center and the receptionist told him there were no other time slots available until May and they were still in March.

Two months in advance! This was unbelievable! He couldn't wait that long. Teddy needed help yesterday.

Two months in advance? Who did this...woman think she was?

Well, it wasn't entirely her fault, he reasoned after a moment. It was the big HMO with its darn rules and regulations. He paid their high premiums every month even though he never utilized their services and the one time that he decided to finally get some kind of health care from these people, they were practically giving him the finger.

Unbelievable!

Olivia looked up from the stack of papers on her desk. She had reviewed each report from every expert in the field (psychologists, teachers, speech pathological, physical and occupational therapists, etc, etc) at least three times. Satisfied, she gathered the papers, straightened them and dropped them into the file box to her right.

Her patient's mother sat across from her- Mrs. Johnson, a Hispanic woman in her mid-thirties- peered at her anxiously, wringing her hands on her lap.

Olivia remembered quite vividly the first time she evaluated Michael at the young age of 18 months. The experience had been quite memorable. While in the waiting room, Michael had stripped off his clothes and adamantly refused to let his mother put them back on. She would never forget the look on Mrs. Johnson's face, that forlorn look that screamed loud and clear: "I'm a failure, I can't even control my own child."

Nearly half an hour later and after much kicking and screaming, Michael had agreed to wearing his diaper. Olivia found herself conducting much of the evaluation with the door to her office wide open for anyone to peer in at any time and with the mother present at all times. One could never be too careful these days.

Presently, Mrs. Johnson appeared to be less hopeless than when they first met. Nonetheless, the woman still had that sense of expectation clearly written on her face, the same expectation that she'd seen in nearly every parent she'd ever talked to: please fix whatever is wrong with my child.

"He's not autistic...Regional Center ruled that out when he turned three, " Mrs. Johnson went on to say that her son had made great strides since then even though he still had a language delay and some learning issues. "I don't know why the school still says..."

"I know, I know. I read the reports," Olivia cut in. "There is nothing in those reports that substantiates such a a diagnoses."

Her job was not an easy one. In some cases, the diagnosis was one that many parents dreaded. Still, most still hang on to a possible miracle.

Fortunately, for this particular parent sitting across from her this morning, she only had good news to report.

"Your son is NOT autistic, he does not fall anywhere within the spectrum...we can pretty much rule it out at this point with 100% certainty," Olivia reported passionately, emphasizing each one of the key words."Like I stated in my report 3 years ago, he's a highly active child. Back then it was too early for a formal diagnoses, but this time we can confidently make a diagnosis of Attention Deficit Disorder (ADHD)." She shook her head. "Michael's case is far from unique. In every state across America thousands of children are misdiagnosed as having ASD, Aspergers or other related labels."

Mrs. Johnson's face filled with hope. Still, she was somewhat apprehensive. Maybe she was afraid that if she allowed herself to be too happy, her hopes will come down like a house of cards, Olivia thought. "But the school psychologist says..."

"The school psychologist is not qualified to diagnose. She can write all she wants in her reports. But she's not a clinician... I am," Olivia proudly stated. "When you go back to the IEP* meetings at the school, you take my report with you. There is no way they can legally label Michael as autistic. If they do, you can sue them. I will gladly come to the hearing, " her expression relaxed some as she searched her mind for the right words. "But I don't think they will go through with it now that you've got my report. They know they don't have a leg to stand on. The only way they can attach the autistic label to your son is if you let them, if you agree with their findings. Don't let them do it, "she urged, passionately."Unfortunately, that's the school's agenda. The more kids labeled as autistic means more funding for their special education program.

Olivia sighed. She probably should say any of this to the parents. But she was really sick and tired of seeing so many kids mislabeled and shuffled into special education classes and saddled with a useless IEP that did not address any of their true needs. Technically, she was not supposed to be offer advice as an special education advocate (even though she had a certification as such, the big HMO was not paying her big bucks for this kind of expertise).

The bottom line was that she loved children (yes, she hoped to have one or two of her own one day) and liked to think that in the big scheme of things, her job was to do what was in the best interest of every child assigned to her caseload. Heck, helping people was the main reason she'd chosen this field to begin with.

Two days later...

Olivia looked at the clock. It was ten minutes before five O'clock. Olivia had just finished with her last appointment of the day and had a few minutes to spare. It was rare indeed that she had nothing to do but wait for her shift to be over, as normally there were stacks of papers to go through or more notes to prepare for a report that needed to be filed.

She was about to grab her champagne color trench coat which had waited for her on a nearby chair all day, when a cursory glance at her cell phone revealed a text message. Normally, she didn't read or answer any personal calls or messages during work hours. But it was almost time for her to punch the clock so she decided to go ahead and read it.

It was from Edison. The son of a bitch wouldn't leave her alone. This was getting ridiculous. It had been over a month since she had broken up their engagement AND he STILL was calling her; hoping for a reconciliation and refusing to take no for an answer.

His text read: "Made dinner reservations for Red Lobster. Meet me at 6:00 pm?"

No, thanks. I'll be busy filing the papers for a restraining order, she felt like replying. Instead, she ignored the text.

The intercom her desk buzzed at exactly 4:56 pm.

Olivia rolled her eyes. So much for a few moments of peace and quiet.

"Mr. Grant is on line one. He's called at least 10 times in the last two days. I've told him you're with patients. He insists on getting an appointment this week."

Olivia rolled her eyes once again and let out an irritated huff. What? She couldn't possibly squeeze in another appointment in her already jam-packed schedule. That's why she had Jane who took care of that, taking a load off her mind.

Nonetheless, she was curious. She hardly ever had a parent demand to speak with her directly.

She wondered if perhaps this 'Mr. Grant' had an elevated opinion of himself? What made him think he could cut through the red tape and get ahead of everyone else in line for these types of appointments?

Besides, it wasn't as if she could make and exception…could she?

She shouldn't make an exception for anyone, not even for the POTUS himself.

Her caseload was normally off the charts this time of year; the first three months at the beginning of the school year where there the busiest of all. In fact, quite often she ended up skipping the so-called mandatory fifteen minute break.

"Dr. Pope?" Janes's voice buzzed, inquisitive.

4:57 pm.

She straightened her traditional white lab coat-knee length, Kaiffer insignia on the left side pocket before sinking into her office chair.

Okay, what the heck, I'll take the damn call, I still got three minutes to spare, she said to herself.

A/N:

* IEP: Individualized Education Plan designed to meet a child's unique learning needs drafted by the school district.

Note: I have a degree in the field of educational psychology and some experience working with children with special needs in a professional setting. So a lot of the situations will be true to life, but no real names identified.

What you can expect in this story: a real roller coaster ride of emotions, romance and the power of love conquering all :)

I Hope you liked this, please review and follow :)