Disclaimer: I don't own 'Scandal'.

Love Letters Straight From Your Heart

Prologue

Washington DC

January 1999

Strangers in the night exchanges glances

Wond'ring in the night what were the chances

We'd be sharing love before the night was through

Something in your eyes was so inviting

Something in you smile was so exciting

Something in my heart told me I must have you

Strangers in the night

Two lonely people, we were strangers in the night

Up to the moment when we said our first hello little did we know

Love was just a glance away, a warm embracing dance away

Strangers In The Night – Frank Sinatra

Olivia flicked one eye open when she heard her cell phone playfully buzz to alert her to a text message. She knew it was Edison and let out a soft groan and sunk her head into the pillow. She felt wonderfully comfortable, but it was time to get up and back to reality. Wondering what the time was she carefully turned her head, and judging from the dusky tone that fell across the room, she guessed it was early morning. At that precise moment she heard the body next to hers stir and the soft rustling of sheets. A large warm hand began gently caressing her lower back and she smiled, as pleasurable tingling sensations spread from her spine, and permeated throughout her body.

Fitz shifted over to her and curled his hand around her slender waist, moving up towards her breasts and began kissing the back of her neck. Instinctively, she dipped her head so she could expose more skin to his sweet kisses. He moaned as he felt her winding her hips into his lower body and started to pull her round to face him; but was caught off guard when she pushed her shoulders back and away from him. So he tightened his hold and pulled her back closer to him. Lowering his head, his lips brushed against her skin.

"Where are you going?" he whispered in her ear.

She dreamily closed her eyes, tingling at the sound of his deep husky voice.

"I've got to go," she replied breathlessly.

His grip slackened and she took this as an opportunity to push the covers back and swing her body out of bed. He flung himself back against the bed head watching her.

"The boyfriend?" he asked.

"Fiancé," she corrected him.

As she stood up, she blinked a few times, as her eyes were still adjusting to being awake. She began searching for her undergarments and black Lycra dress, which she discovered at the bottom of the bed and bent down to retrieve her clothing. As Olivia returned to her standing position, she heard him take a deep breath, and she smiled, knowing he was admiring her physique. Olivia was a petit but curvaceous woman and was rightly proud of her body that she had honed through years of competitive swimming at high school and college. She got a buzz from him watching her every move; and felt none of the gritty embarrassment after the euphoric excitement of hooking up with a stranger for a one-night stand. In fact she felt so at ease, she happily turned her back to him and walked into the en suite bathroom, aware his eyes were fixed on her butt.

She re-emerged wearing her figure-hugging dress to find him still resting his bare upper body against the bed head. He had one arm behind his head and the other splayed across his hard chest. He greeted her with a long seductive smile that reached his bright blue eyes, which were twinkling in the morning haze. Olivia's breath caught in her throat.

He was just too fine for words, she thought. And her earlier primal lust for him returned with a vengeance. With more confidence than she actually felt, she walked over and sat down next to him.

"Hi," he said softly. She let out a soft sigh and flashed him a warm smile.

"Hi."

"You okay?"

She nodded, looking down and smoothing away invisible creases from her dress.

"Look, I don't care how cliché this sounds, but you need to know that I don't make a habit of getting drunk, and hooking up with random men – especially not at my former professor's birthday party."

"Aah, Cyrus…"

"Yes, Cyrus, I don't think I even said goodbye," she said, cringing from her lack of manners.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. From what I do remember, he was too inebriated and involved with his new boyfriend to notice we went AWOL."

They both chuckled as they cast their minds back to an intoxicated Olivia, lying on her back in her former professor, Cyrus Beane's conservatory, surrounded by his prize rhododendrons flowers, which she had mischievously plucked out randomly - just for the hell of it.

"So what about your fiancé?" he asked in a nonchalant tone.

"He's probably freaking out that he can't get me hold of me, so I should go call him, and put him out of his misery."

"I think tonight was a break from the norm, for the both of us," he said, playing with the simple gold band on his left hand.

"Are you saying you've never cheated on your wife before?"

He shook his head, and she saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

"Like you, believe it or not, this is the first time for me. It never occurred to me to cheat. I figure you get married and you make the best of it - good or bad."

"It can't be so bad…last night you talked about your two children…that's something to feel blessed about."

"Yes, Karen and Gerry are my world."

"'Ah! What would the world be to us if the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us worse than the dark before'."

"Who offered that amazing insight?"

"My father, but before him the nineteenth century US poet, Henry Longfellow," she joked kindly.

"That's beautiful…I must remember it during challenging times."

"And remember this too…I don't know you, but I trust my gut, and my gut tells me you're one of the good guys. You'll always do the right thing by the people you love. "

"You got all that from meeting me last night?"

"Yes. Am I wrong?" she asked directly, and he laughed at her boldness.

"You're an amazing woman. If I was your fiancé, I'd never let you out of my sight"

She smirked at him.

"That's because you're only seeing the PR version of me."

He chuckled at her.

"And funny too… is there no end to your talents?"

"I make a mean pumpkin pie," she quipped back, with a cheeky wink.

"I guess, I'll never know," he sighed gently.

They both paused over his last comment, digesting that fact last night was a strictly one-off event - never to be repeated. It was a sobering split second.

"If I was so amazing," Olivia began, "I would be with my fiancé instead of here - with you. He's this incredibly sweet guy, but over the last few months our relationship has begun to feel like a battleground and we're rowing over the most ridiculous things. I keep wondering if I'm making this huge mistake, but everyone keeps on telling me how great he is, and he is," she insisted.

"But everyone's not marrying him," he warned gently. "I mistook a good family name and a great pair of legs for love," he continued wryly.

"You make it sound like you have an arranged marriage."

"Pretty much," he confirmed

"Damn! That sounds…"

"Prehistoric?"

"Little bit."

"What can I say? I'm new money she's blue money…that's how it works in my world."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm the one who should be apologizing…I'm coming off like some pathetic loser, moaning about his marriage to a beautiful woman, in the hope you'll feel a little sorry for me."

"Don't beat yourself up too much…I think it's safe to say, we both went a little off track last night."

"I guess we did," he said, looking at her beneath lowered eyes.

God you are too sexy, thought Olivia and she blushed.

"Mmm…" she murmured shyly, but quickly refocused on making her exit. "Seriously, though, I need to make a move."

"How will you get back?"

"I'll call a taxi."

"I should really do the gentlemanly thing and take you back to your hotel."

"No - no you're fine," she replied, half shocked, half horrified, at his suggestion. "I don't think me turning up in the early hours of the morning with the soon-to-be elected State Governor of California would be a good look."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"You know who I am?"

"I majored with a first in law and political science, Cyrus would have a heart attack if I didn't recognize the man he hopes to take all the way to the White House."

"So are you as good as Cyrus says you are, Ms Pope?" he asked her seductively.

Now it was her turn to be surprise because they had only exchanged first names; and talked in drunken generalities.

"Yes, Cyrus has been ranting to me all weekend about the brilliant Olivia Pope, who works for one of the biggest law firms in the country. Apparently, you're the best student he's ever taught. I thought it was me," he shrugged his shoulders. "But wotcha gonna do - eh?"

"Okay, seeing as we're no longer playing 'mysterious strangers'" she joked. "Can we at least agree to keep this between us? You know: what happens at Cyrus' party stays at Cyrus' party?"

He placed his finger on his lips to confirm his compliance with her request

"Okay, good," she said briskly, getting up. "Well, it was great to meet you, and thanks for…an interesting night."

"What? No kiss goodbye," he said in a mocked hurtful tone.

Olivia wanted to avoid this moment because she didn't trust herself. She was far too attracted to this man for her own good and desperately wanted to stay and continue enjoying his company.

She carefully sat back down, albeit closer to him, and rolled her head towards him, so they were staring into each other's eyes. She became conscious of her quickening breath and swallowed hard. Bracing herself against the magnetic heat pulsating between them, she barely had control as she leaned in to lay a friendly kiss on his cheek. But he quickly turned his head and their lips meshed. His arms encircled her shoulders pulling her closer to him and she melted. His hand crept around her neck and he pushed her mouth apart with his tongue kissing her deeply. Olivia's response was just as intense: her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him in and letting her fingers play with the wavy hair at the nape of his neck. Reluctantly they broke away from each other but their foreheads closed in together to touch. With their lips barely apart they could feel each other's rapid breathing.

Fitz inhaled deeply and began slowly tracing her skin with the tip of his nose, moving across her cheek and down towards her neck. Olivia arched back and his lips found the centre of her throat. She gasped when the tip of his tongue licked the dip in the centre of her collarbone; followed by the lightest of kisses that sent her pulse into a beating frenzy.

"Umm, you taste and smell delicious….I don't want you to go," he rasped against her neck.

"I've got to go," she moaned huskily.

He shook his head and began rubbing his thumb along the inside of her dress strap. She raised her hand and ran her fingertips across his lips and moved in to brush her lips against his. As he moaned, she took his bottom lip between her teeth and lips gently nibbling and sucking the soft flesh of his lower mouth, all the while teasing him with her tongue. When she finally pulled away and gazed at him, Fitz's eyes were fluttering and his breathing was coming in short hard bolts from the back of his throat.

"Just one minute," he whispered, pulling her back under the covers.

One month later

California

It was Saturday morning and Fitz was fast asleep next to his wife, Mellie, in their queen-size bed. Mellie was awake and had been for a while now, due to her husband's constant restlessness - which had been affecting her sleep for the past few weeks. Suddenly she felt Fitz shift over to her side of the bed and could feel his alternating breathing pattern against the back of her neck. He was still asleep. She heard him groan softly in the back of his throat and felt his morning erection in the small of her back. She smiled. Just then his strong taut body pressed against hers, and his hips rocked forward as his hardness became more determined. He let out another moan and pulled away to lie on his back, but a loose arm was still touching her. She turned over and slipped into his open arms.

"Someone's feeling good this morning," she whispered, gently caressing his chest, and slipping her hand under the covers.

Fitz's body jerked and he gasped. His eyes shot wide open as though he'd heard a shrilling alarm call. It took him a moment to focus before looking down and seeing his wife seductively kissing his chest whilst pulling up his Navy t-shirt.

Shit, thought Fitz.

"Mellie..." he said, clearing his throat.

"Yes Fitzy," she purred back. He winced, because he hated it when she called him that.

"I need the bathroom," he mumbled.

Moments later Fitz was climbing out of his t-shirt and boxers and stepping into the shower. He turned the taps on full blast: setting the temperature at the hottest he was able to bear. Placing both arms either side of the shower he bent his neck so the faucet could run directly over his head. He closed his eyes and began to think about the expression on Mellie's face when he literally jumped out of bed. Then he thought about the reason why: he'd been dreaming about Olivia Pope. He just could not stop thinking about the fiercely intelligent and blazing hot beauty that had exploded into his life - and it was driving him crazy.

He thought about the dream he'd been having about her. She was naked astride him and smiling seductively, she begins gyrating her body in a circular motion over his hard-on moving her hips, waist and hands in the same rhythmical movement until she's performing a teasing belly dance. Fitz is completely mesmerized by her erotic display. He takes hold of her waist and in one swift move thrusts his hard-on deep inside her.

Fitz shuddered with pleasure at the memory and sighed deeply, trying to ignore his re-erection, but her sexy naked image kept invading his thoughts. Now all he could think about was her being here with him naked in the shower and staring up at him with those beautiful dark brown eyes that seem to read his every emotion. He imagined beads of hot water spraying across her angelic face and dripping from her full blush-looking lips; cascading down onto her shoulders and pert breasts, across her smooth honed abs and perfect v-shaped bush.

Pressing his left palm flat against the shower wall he took his right hand and placing it round his throbbing member he became lost in his own personal pleasure.

Minutes later Fitz spun around and slammed his breathless body against the shower wall. Lifting his head, he once again, allowed the jutting water to pound against his skull as though his was trying to knock some sense into his head. Christ, what was wrong with him? In the adjoining room, lay his beautiful wife eager to make love. But for some reason he'd chosen to be alone and jerk off over some strange woman he'd met once. He felt his face become flush with shame and remorse. He took a deep sharp breath and shook his head like he was shaking off his last guilty pleasure. Taking hold of one of the many liquid-filled bottles arranged on the shower wall he began soaping his hair and body.

This morning was not the first time he'd woken up from dreaming about Olivia Pope and it frustrated him because he knew she would be on his mind all day. Thinking about her made him feel like a teenage boy who'd just discovered his father's Playboy collection, and at that point he imagined she was a Playboy centerfold. Oh my God, thought Fitz, this is seriously getting out of control. He had to stop this daydreaming malarkey. Olivia Pope was a refreshing distraction from the pressures of fulfilling his political destiny. His mind should be fully focused on becoming state governor, and proving to everyone – especially is overbearing father – that he could repeat his army success in the political arena. He needed to forget about Olivia Pope and give his full attention to the important things in his life: his wife and children. Period.

Rinsing off the last soapy suds he carefully dripped across the bathroom floor, and opened a wooden slate cupboard door and picked out two clean towels. Wrapping one around his waist, he used the other to dry his hair, and made his way back to the bedroom. He saw Mellie still lying in bed and resting on her side. She was staring straight ahead and didn't move - as though she was unaware he'd re-entered the room. Fitz sheepishly walked over to her and bent down to drop a morning kiss on her cheek. But she frowned and pulled away from him. Fitz took a deep breath and could feel the red glow of embarrassment creep up from his neck and across his face.

"Feeling better after your shower?" Mellie queried, in an icy tone.

Fitz returned to his standing position and walked over to a large oak Chester draw and selected a white t-shirt and sweatpants.

How do you answer a loaded question like that? Fitz thought.

"Is it so bad being married to me?"

"No, Mellie," he sighed, slipping the t-shirt over his damp hair.

"Then why? Why do you hurt me like this?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just under a lot of pressure what with next year's election and my father's constant interference and ego-tripping," he explained unconvincingly. Suddenly Fitz flashed a bright smile at his wife. "I was thinking, maybe we could make a surprise breakfast together for the kids? I think they'd like that." He'd finished dressing and was making his way back to Mellie with the same smile on his face.

"It's the weekend, Fitzgerald, that's what the nanny's for," she retorted sharply.

"But still, I think I'll treat Karen and Gerry. You know how much they love my pancakes," he said, enthusiastically, in an attempt to lighten the frosty atmosphere. Mellie ignored him.

He could feel an argument brewing between them, so he quickly excused himself and headed towards the two people he most loved in the world.

New York

On that same day thousands of miles away, Olivia Pope was seated in her glass-walled office at Carlton Price & Associates - one of the biggest law firms in New York. Being Saturday, the twenty-third floor of The Stellar Point Building was quiet except for a few colleagues and one security guard milling around. Olivia was pouring over a couple of witness statements and law books documenting product liability cases. She was taking down notes, when she felt a wave of nausea rumble through her stomach. She swallowed uncomfortably.

"Olivia Pope, do you have an off button? It's the weekend for heaven sakes."

She stopped writing in mid-sentence, and looked up to see one of the senior partners, Andrew Price, smiling at her.

"And I take it you're here for the good of your health?" she joked back.

"I guess when you're trying to save your client two million dollars, you do what you have to do," he replied lightly, but there was a serious look in his eyes. "I'm going to grab a coffee from the kitchenette. I think there are some muffins left over from yesterday - if you can bear it."

Olivia inwardly winced as her stomach churned at the thought of eating food.

"I'm good, thank you," she replied, smiling brightly.

But as soon as he left, her mask dropped, and Olivia sunk back into her leather chair as another wave of nausea overwhelmed her. Suddenly her stomach made a rumbling churning noise and she started to heave.

Please not now. Please not now, she begged herself. The queasy sickness rumbled through her again and was building in the back of her throat. She was going to be sick. She bolted up and ran out into the hallway, breaking into a half walk, half run, towards the ladies washroom at the end of the hall, with one hand partially covering her mouth. Swinging the door open, she rushed towards an open cubicle door and snapping up the lid she proceeded to be sick until her stomach was empty. She kept her head hanging and she groaned as her stomach churned again. Three, two, one, she counted, and retched. But nothing came up. Just that empty acidic feeling. Wearily, she pulled tissue from the dispenser and she wiped her mouth. Still swaying from the sickness, Olivia backed into the cubicle wall, and bending her legs slid down the wall and flopped her head between her knees.

Her head shot up when she heard the creaking bathroom door open.

"Liv?" someone called out and she closed her eyes with relief. She'd never been so pleased to hear a British accent in her whole life. It was her colleague and close friend, Stephen Finch, calling out to her.

"Hey Stephen," she called back weakly. "What are you doing here?" she asked, staggering to her feet.

"I had to collect case papers for Monday, and I saw you rushing in here with a face like death. Are you okay?" Stephen asked, concerned.

Suddenly the cubicle door swung open and his face fell when he saw a pale-looking Olivia starring back at him.

"Liv… what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, watching her walk to the basin and splash cold water over her face. She looked up in the mirror and caught Stephen's eye.

"Can you meet me at our place in twenty minutes?"

Stephen looked at his watch.

"Sure, but it'll have to be a quick one because I've got an appointment for a suit-fitting over on the Upper East Side at two."

"That's fine. I'll make it quick - promise."

Half an hour later, Olivia and Stephen were sitting in a wrinkled leather-seated booth sat opposite each other in their favorite café; and thanking the young blonde waitress for their drinks. The place was buzzing with the usual weekend trade that included a mixture of young families, couples and groups of friends taking a break from the blistering January winds outside. The radio was on in the background and Olivia could hear the popular R'n'B singer, Brandy's latest hit song, Have You Ever? playing at a low volume. She absent-mindedly watched as their waitress approached another table and began playing with the string from her herbal tea. Stephen was stirring two sugars into his usual Americano before turning his attention to his friend.

"Are you okay Liv? You look shattered. Is it Edison?"

"No I haven't heard from him for a couple of days now."

"Do you think he's got the message?"

"He's got the ring back; I can't make it any clearer."

"So what's going on?"

"Okay, so what I'm about to tell you, please, don't judge me?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow.

"Come on. This is me you're talking to."

"Right, well as you know, at the beginning of the New Year, Edison and I were supposed to fly to Washington together, to see my old college professor, who was celebrating his birthday. But on the morning we were due to leave, we had a massive fight, and he walked out of the apartment, so I ended up flying to DC by myself. I still went to Cyrus' party, but I wasn't in the mood to play social butterfly; and got hammered on vodka shots. Anyway, before you know it, I was laid out flat on my back."

"You're a lightweight when it comes to spirits - why would you do that?"

"You heard the first part of the story, right, 'massive fight' with the fiancé," she said, slightly exasperated.

Stephen put up his hands in mock defeat.

"Anyway, some guy approached me - to see if I was alright. We got to talking, and later on, going back to this house he'd rented, and…" she began subtly rocking her head back and forth.

"Ms Type A. Saint Olivia Pope, had a one-night stand," he teased.

"Wished I never told you now," she said dryly.

"Sorry, Liv, but it's just not you."

"Well, it was me that night," she told him firmly, trying hard to suppress the instinctive smile that came dancing to her lips whenever she thought about that night with Fitzgerald Grant. She caught her breath, at the memory of him.

"My word!" exclaimed Stephen. "He must have been something special, if you're smiling like that weeks later."

Olivia blushed and distracted herself from Stephen's gaze by taking a sip of her tea.

"It was that good eh?"

"He was that good, I was that good - the whole experience was pretty intense!"

"Pray tell?"

"I don't know, he was just this handsome, funny, sexy as hell guy - with a voice that makes Barry White sound like a hyena on speed."

"Olivia Pope! I have never heard you so gaga over any man - not even Eddie-boy - in all the years I've known you."

She blushed again. What the hell was wrong with her? All of a sudden she was crushing out - big time!

"And now you're blushing. Who is this man? What universe did he arrive from? And should I be picking out curtains?"

"Stop your crazy talk- it wasn't like that!"

"Well it sounds, very much, that it was: like that. Are you seeing him again?"

"No," she replied, quickly shaking her head.

"He's married," Stephen stated flatly.

"Yes – no, I mean, yes: he's married. But it's not what you think."

"Okay…" Stephen drawled, suspicious of anything else she had to follow up with.

"You need to remember, I was still engaged at the time, so I can't really take any sort of moral high ground. We both understood it was a one-time thing, so no drama here, Stephen," she replied defensively, deliberately avoiding continuous eye contact with her friend.

"But you have feelings for him?"

"No," she shot back adamantly.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure…but I do have a situation."

"Go on…"

She looked at Stephen, and started to say something, but instead, took another sip of her tea. '"Liv," he prompted.

"I think I might be pregnant."

Stephen's eyes widened in shock, and he leaned in as if he didn't hear her quite catch what she'd just said. "Nothing to say?" she queried sheepishly.

Stephen sat back in his seat, starring in disbelief at his friend. And she looked back in anticipation of the telling off she felt was coming.

"Holy shit, Olivia!" Stephen exclaimed, running his hand through his hair.

"Yes, holy shit," she repeated.

"And it's…?"

"Edison and I hadn't been," she cleared her throat. "Edison and I…we…not for a few weeks - and I didn't use protection with this guy."

"Oh Liv, baby," he said gently.

"I know, how dumb can I be right?"

"No, we've all been there - 'caught up in the moment' - some of us more than others."

Olivia ruefully nodded at Stephen. She thought back to how reckless she'd behaved that night - but it had felt so right at the time.

"So what now?" he asked, concerned for his friend.

"Now nothing, if I'm really pregnant - and judging from the amount of projectile vomiting I've been doing, and being over a week late - I'm going to have this baby."

"Wow! You are? Do you think it's something he'd want to know about?"

Olivia paused to consider the question. She remembered the love when he spoke about his children.

"Yes to your first question, and no, no, I don't think so," she confirmed, shaking her head.

"So are you going to tell me who he is?"

"No point. It's done and I'm a big girl. I can do this by myself."

"You're seriously going ahead and having the baby?"

"Yes, I am."

Stephen whistled under his breath.

"That's a big decision, Liv. Are you sure this is something you want to go through by yourself - without the father's knowledge?"

"Is it something you'd want to know? Imagine this scenario: you and…what's the name of your latest squeeze? Salima? Okay, you and Salima are married, you have a one-night stand and the woman gets pregnant. Do you seriously want her showing up as you guys are about to carve the Thanksgiving turkey or Stephen Junior is playing in the backyard? Some random woman you seduced?"

"Seduced?"

"It's you we're talking about Stephen."

"I take your point...I guess I'm just thinking about the impact on the child?"

"It's not the ideal situation, but I can handle it, like I've handled every other crisis in my life."

"Come on, at least give me the bloke's first name?"

She shook her head

"It's not important."

He studied her carefully.

"You were at your old professor's house, whom is now living and working in Washington DC…so there's a good chance there were some political movers and shakers in attendance."

"Stop fishing," she laughed nervously.

"Just doing a little process of elimination, Pope-Son my dear," he joked, exaggerating his accent.

"Stephen, please, it's not important who is the father is. The important thing is I'm having this baby."

"Are going to tell Abby?"

"Maybe…but she's got a lot on her plate at the moment. And since she got married, we're not as close anymore."

"But she's good with stuff like this," he reasoned.

"I know, and I will…eventually, but not right now." Olivia knew he made sense. Her old friend was great when it came to helping out in times of crisis, but Olivia felt she had to hold back a little for now.

"Look, I maybe sounding a little more melodramatic than I need to, but this is something I don't even want my own mother finding out about."

"Not surprising, you and your mother can barely be in the same room together for more than five minutes."

Olivia rolled her eyes in despair.

God, I can't wait for that conversation, she thought. She'd do anything to have her father still alive to confide in at this particular junction in her life.

"Okay, my mother? Probably not the best example, but I'm serious, Stephen. I'm going to have to quit CPA."

"No Olivia, that's crazy, you've only been with the firm for a couple of years and Andrew Price already thinks you walk on water. I can't believe they wouldn't support you."

"I appreciate what you're saying, but I need to keep this quiet…I don't really want them or anyone else to know - if I can help it," she said quietly. "I'm going to resign," she confirmed.

"Olivia, what's going on?"

She took a deep breath and realized she needed to disclose to just one person, and she couldn't have chosen a better person than her good friend.

"He's running for state governor at next year's election."

"What?"

"The father, Stephen, he's running for State Governor of California."

She observed Stephen's face going through several puzzled expressions, until his eyes finally widened in complete surprise.

"Fitzgerald Grant III. The former governor, Big Jerry's son is daddy? Fuck, Olivia."

"Nicely put."

"I'm sorry but he's the last person - I'm in shock."

"Why?"

"Come on, The Grants are WASP, republican, southern family, oil money. Do I really need to paint this picture for you?"

"So you're surprised he could be attracted to someone like me?" she asked offended.

"Olivia, you're beautiful - your gorgeousness transcends race - of course he'd fall for you. I'm just surprised - give me a break!"

She took another sip of her herbal tea. She grimaced slightly, she was normally a black coffee no sugar kind of woman, but since the morning sickness, this was the only beverage she could stomach.

"I take it the herbal tea thing is because of your condition?" She nodded.

"Chamomile is the new black for me," she smiled.

Stephen looked at her seriously.

"You certainly don't go for easy do you," he declared quietly, and her smile faltered.

"When has easy ever been an option for me."

"Quite. So you're doing a Madonna and 'keeping my baby'?"

She nodded.

"The other route is not an option for me. So I'm going to need your help."

Stephen reached forward, took his friend's hand and looked her straight in the eye.

"Do you even have to ask?"

Olivia took a deep breath and smiled.

AN: Happy Reading Gladiators!