NOW & THEN

Hey guys. I'm still working on ideas for my sequel to "You, Me & Us," and this idea popped into my head. I have a few chapters done and a fairly good idea of where I'm going with it. I will probably save the sequel to my previous story until after "Scandal" goes into summer break...so we can have something to distract us! Let me know what you think of this one.

Prologue

January 2008

Fitz stared at the paper Cyrus had just handed to him, shaking his head in disgust. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the numbers didn't lie. Sally Langston was beating him handily in the race for the Republican Presidential nomination and nothing they did seemed to work. No amount of phone calls, campaign stumping or knocking on doors made any difference.

"We need help," Cyrus said, after a few minutes of silence.

"We don't need help."

"We need a shitload of help," he said dryly. "Your campaign's dead in the water. Unless we do something, and fast, you're going to be out of this thing before we even make it to Super Tuesday. We need a spark."

"Then get us a spark," Fitz said sarcastically. "You're my campaign manager. You're supposed to figure out this behind-the-scenes stuff, not me."

"I know. And that's exactly why I've called in help."

Fitz groaned and threw his hands up in frustration.

"Fine. Who is he?"

"She is a former protege of mine. She's very bright and I've seen her work miracles for other candidates before. Whatever it is we're not seeing, she'll spot it and fix it. And she's already agreed to help. All you have to do is say yes." When Fitz made an unimpressed face, Cyrus continued with, "just meet her before you say no. She'll be here today."

"Fine," he grumbled. He stood, leaving his suit jacket slung over the back of his chair. "Let's get out there and talk to the staffers."

Cyrus followed dutifully as Fitz led the way to the large, auditorium-like room where his volunteers and staffers were waiting for him. The room was dreary and enthusiasm was non-existent. He almost wanted to pack up shop right then and there, but he decided to give the little speech that he had come up with in his head.

"Well, there's no way to sugar-coat it...we got our ass handed to us by Sally Langston in Iowa last night. So, anyone have any great ideas?"

The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"Anyone?"

"We have to swing farther right," a red-headed girl spoke up. "We haven't said a thing about gay marriage, school prayer..."

It took everything in Fitz not to roll his eyes and tell her to get out.

"Oh, come on, it's not our stances on the issues. We are not getting our message out there. People don't know where I stand. The problem is..."

"Your marriage," another voice spoke up.

And before Fitz could even spot her in the crowd, he knew exactly who the voice belonged to. It was a voice that had been seared into his brain many years before. His eyes led him to the source of the sound and when he saw her, his heart nearly fell out of his shoes. She looked older, more womanly, and she wore that confident smile that had, at a time, made him weak in the knees.

"It looks like you don't screw your wife."

She started walking from the back of the room, continuing her monologue about his dead marriage and why Republicans would never vote for a man that didn't diddle his bride. But he barely heard any of it. He was too fixated on her walk, her clothes, everything about her. She finally made it to within a foot of his personal space, and her smile softened.

"Governor Grant. It's good to see you again."

Whatever nostalgia he had been feeling was quickly replaced by anger. He didn't say a word to her; instead, he turned to Cyrus and said, "we need to talk." He stormed out of the room to the bewilderment of nearly everyone. When he got to his office, he barely waited for Cyrus to enter before he said, "fire her."

"What? Are you kidding? She just gave a spot-on assessment of what's wrong with your campaign!"

"Fire her," he said firmly.

"Oh, come on, Fitz. Don't tell me you're getting all sensitive because she actually had the nerve to say what the rest of us were thinking. I didn't know you were so protective of Mellie," he said in a teasing tone.

"Trust me, it's not that."

"Then what is it? Olivia Pope is the best student I've ever had! She's damn near close to a miracle worker and a miracle is what you need if you intend to make an actual run at this thing."

Fitz stood behind his desk and placed his hands on the wood. He leaned over to make sure that Cyrus heard him loud and clear.

"Fire. Her."

Cyrus frowned. "No."

"What?"

"I said no."

"Cyrus, this is my campaign."

"Yeah, and you've run it straight into the ground. I'm not going to let you ruin it any more than you already have. We need Olivia and I don't know what your beef is with her but you'd better chop it up and eat it because she's not going anywhere. Put on your big boy pants and suck it up."

With that, he left the office. Fitz hung his head, wondering what on Earth he was going to do about Olivia, and when he looked up again, there she was...standing in the doorway of his office, looking way too beautiful and vulnerable with her big brown eyes. He watched silently as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. When she looked at him again, she opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to the punch.

"Why are you here?" he asked angrily.

"Because Cyrus called and asked me to help. When he told me it was you, I originally said no. But then he went on and on about great you are and how much he believes in you and I remembered feeling that way about you once. So I said yes."

Fitz scoffed. "You remember feeling that way about me," he repeated. "Did you feel that way before or after you broke my heart?"

Her eyes fell in a guilty expression. "Fitz..."

"No," he interrupted. "You don't get to call me that. I stopped being 'Fitz' to you when you walked out on me."

"What was I supposed to do?" she asked. "You were married with two little kids. Not to mention the situation we were in. It would have never worked."

"Well you certainly made sure it didn't."

Olivia sighed and brushed bangs out of her face.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she said quietly.

"Funny. Because that's exactly what you did."

"I was young. I didn't know how to handle it."

Fitz hung his head again and silence stretched out between them. He expected her to say something more, to explain herself after all the years apart. But she didn't.

"I don't want you here," he said.

"I know. But you can't hate me forever. It's been ten years."

"I know exactly how long it's been," he spat.

Olivia sighed again, seemingly absorbing his venom.

"You don't want me here, I get it," she reiterated. "But if you want to become President, you do need me here. I can turn this thing around. I can get you elected. If you don't want to have anything to do with me personally, that's fine. We'll keep it strictly business and I'll make it a point to never be in the room alone with you. Just...just let me do this."

His eyes locked with hers and as much as he hated it, he felt himself getting sucked into her again. She had always had that effect on him and it seemed that ten years apart had done nothing to lessen her power.

"Why?" he asked tiredly. "Why do you want to help me?"

"Because I believe in you. And I always have."

Her brown eyes were wide with hope that he would believe her, and rather than argue any further, he simply looked away in silent acceptance.

"I promise that I'll eat, breathe and live this campaign. I'll get you elected," she said quietly. When he still didn't speak or look at her, she turned to leave. But before she disappeared down the hall, she turned around again and said, "for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

Fitz clenched his jaw and despite his better judgment, he looked at her.

"I already have forgiven you, Olivia," he said. "I just haven't forgotten."