OOC: So, this story is going to follow the show more than I figured. It's writing itself right now, which makes it longer and such. I want it to be as believable as possible, so majority of events that occur in season 3 will be mentioned or take place in chronological order.

Thanks to everyone who left a comment! Sorry to those who 'aren't here' for Jake, but I said it starts off as Olake. Fitz is coming in the next chapter, but I'm not rushing him into the plotline or Olivia's bed for anyone. If you don't want to read the first chapters, don't read it at all. You won't get the full story and there are plenty Olitz-centered stories out there. Not writing this to torture anyone. But, thanks to everyone who's read it so far and is still reading. And now I'm going to shut up.

~IanLevitt

Chapter 3

The phone rings, beeps, and vibrates several times, and it is not until it wakes the sleeping boy in his lap that Jake bothers to answer.

"Jake Ballard." The man might as well be spitting into his ear. I should have looked at the caller ID.

On that day, Jake and Olivia made a pact to avoid phone calls and contact with both her father and Fitz. There is no winner or loser; nonetheless, he still feels terrible, like an unworthy traitor.

It's for your benefit.

I'm sorry, Olivia.

"Sssh, Harley. Rest." Jake rocks Harley back and forth, lulling him towards sleep once more. "What is it, Mr. Pope?"

"You will address me as Command," Rowan rasps heavily, and Jake almost smiles because he can imagine him in that moment. He's probably in a car. He doesn't strain or restrict his screaming when he's in private. Command is somewhere in between, around people yet not more than possibly two. Growling. "Why haven't you answered my phone calls?"

The smirk quickly vanishes from Jake's face. "Sir, I-."

"How about Olivia? If you so much as slip and say the wrong thing at the wrong time - which you are both prone to - I can have you back in that hole in an instant."

Groaning faintly, Jake lowers Harley into his crib, removing himself from the infant's vicinity straightaway. Children weren't meant to be involved in these matters. He knew that, at least. "Hey, Command. I did what you asked me to do. The kid is here, with me, in Olivia's home." Eli does not respond.

"Assuming that you are surprised about my knowledge, and not at all by me shacking up in your daughter's home: yes, Command, I am aware that you sent me the information on this case. Your daughter would not be happy about that. By the way, you should use a different courier next time. I remember him too well. I don't know what you're trying to do, what your endgame is, what pawn I am; but, I 've done what you desired and I am downright pissed at myself."

"You own me, Command." He adds, as an afterthought.

Eli pauses, presumably gathering the right words to paint a beautiful, fucked-up, mesmerizing picture. It is in a sick, guttural tone that he remarks, "You're bright, Ballard. She loves you because you're bright. Don't worry about Clinton Stewart's son. He's not concerned with any scheme. Freebie for you, freebie for Olivia. Everyone wins. Everyone quits whining."

Jake attempts to rebuttal when a second caller distracts him. "Hold on, it's Olivia."

"Ballard, don't you dare-!"

Too late.

"Olivia? What is it?" Jake wastes no time, entirely dismissing an informal greeting on purpose.

"That's a pleasant way to answer your phone."

"I'm sorry. I was going off your in-person example from earlier."

Liv chuckles and, in spite of how he wants to feel, Jake's cheeks heat up as he smiles widely. "Don't follow my lead, Ballard. Olivia Pope is not a role model." Her voice turns serious, strained. "The Stewart boy, Jake. How...how did you...I spoke to Abby and she claims she didn't have any idea what you were...are you…?" She waits for him, unable to form a comprehensive query by her lonesome.

When he's ready, he clears his throat, betraying nothing in his tone. "Working for your father again? The president? No. It was a contact, Olivia. I still have connections."

"Another secret source."

"I'd never lie to you. My contacts have always been right, Olivia. I was locked up in a hole. I didn't die. People remembered me. You did."

"I did. I believe you. It's...weird, that's all." Jake fees the subtle smile in her words.

"You're tired and upset. It's been a rough few weeks."

Right. Jeanine. Mary. Mary's son. A rough few weeks indeed.

"Listen," he resumes, after he determines she's either gotten her answers or is prolonging the silence of her own will. "I'll see you later. Focus on Mayor Stewart. Little Stewart's taken care of."

"Okay."

The call drops. Heaving a sigh of relief, Jake is taken aback when Mr. Pope's chords bore into his soul's very depths. "Quite the sweet talker, are we, Ballard?"

"No sir."

"Good. So, you are caring for the Stewart child? And Olivia has sufficient details to motivate her in getting to the mayor?"

"Yes and yes."

"Are you informing her of our conversation 'later'?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

A Pope hangs up on him for the second time that day.

A/N: The 'day' that Jake refers to in the beginning is the day when Olivia almost got blown up by the bomb on Capitol Hill. He doesn't like to call it by name.