The plane wasn't private. Of course it wasn't. What was she expecting? The man she hadn't even met yet-whoever he was-barely had a team of four, and half of them were on this plane. Still, Olivia thought as she tried to get comfortable next to Quinn, she was looking forward to taking such a Big Step.

She hadn't really ever been the spontaneous type. Free-spirited, hard to figure out-one hundred percent. Always planned, though, always with a thought in the back of her mind or the bottom of her gut. The outcome, the endgame, that was never spontaneous-until now.

Olivia and Quinn had closed up shop the week after her call with Cyrus, handing over the keys to some app developers working on more of shoestring than they had been. Olivia had never been happier to do something so spontaneous, to leave the office that hadn't ever felt as hers as she might have liked.

Now, sitting on the plane and headed to meet a perfect stranger based on her instincts and Cyrus's word alone, she felt everywhere and nowhere all at once; untethered. Sure, Quinn was next to her, grinning in her sleep, probably subconsciously processing some joke on the audiobooks Olivia knew she liked. And, yes, the buzzing of the plane engine, the dry cabin air, had made every sense a little mute, every thought a little slippery. Olivia wondered if the man with blue eyes she'd only seen in pictures might be waiting in Sacramento. Cyrus had seemed a little confused about his own travel arrangements. Then again, Olivia guessed, he had more to sort out-a husband, a baby. She wondered how Rowan was doing, in the big office in the even bigger, empty house. She thought about the small apartment she'd been happy to have, happy to move into, dusting her mother's old furniture off, airing it out and arranging it just so. The apartment she had locked up and left without a second thought. Everything about this new direction made Olivia buzz with anticipation and uncertainty. Was this what it felt like to be in the right place at the right time?

#####

"I can't believe you're actually doing this to me, Cy. To us."

James's voice had sunk to almost nothing, a whisper low with passionate disgust.

Cyrus sat, mute, tired of fighting for now, his sandwich untouched in front of him.

"I can't believe that you're going to up and leave this family. What about Ella? What about-what about me?"

Cyrus knew James well enough to know what he wasn't saying when his voice caught. Were they strong enough? Could they last another year, another four?

He didn't have it in him to remind James that, when they'd met, Cyrus had been teaching at Yale. Connecticut had seemed a world away from DC then. Drunk on love, Cyrus couldn't even count the last-minute plane tickets they'd bought, sparing no expense or weekend in the name of love. He was sure that James, then a budding journalist, had survived on love and cigarettes for the first year or two they were together, before they both said "fuck it" and moved to the apartment and then the house. Olivia had been his last star pupil, and fumbling through life with James-learning how to be a boyfriend, a partner, a husband and, finally, a daddy-it had never quite measured up to the argumentative spark, the wit and singleminded ambition, of his best students.

Cyrus decided to play his last card of the day. He was an old man and just wanted to make a President, just one, before he died safe and warm in his bed. He touched James's hand, cutting off whatever he'd been saying about the mortgage, his article deadlines, Ella's vocabulary.

"Why don't you come with me, James. I leave tomorrow."

There was no room for argument, nothing to be done except book the extra seats, pack some bags and go. Or, hell, have Gabriella ship it all.

James had won this battle, but Cyrus thought maybe, just maybe, he might be able to win the war.

#####

Fitz was trying his best to keep his eyes on the face of the pretty blonde in front of him-just her face-as he toured the downtown Sacramento office space that he'd just signed for. A brief email and phone call exchange with Cyrus hadn't talked him off the ledge of campaigning for president, but at least someone had agreed to jump with him. A few someones, he remembered with a pang of gratitude deep in his stomach, including someone named Olivia Pope. Cyrus said she was the best there was, and Fitz couldn't wait to see what all the fuss was about. Also, obviously and unapologetically, he loved women.

"Now, Governor Grant, this whole wall of windows over to that wall over there would belong to you and your-"

She paused, eyes flicking around the room as if she might be looking for people who might never fill it. She remembered where she was-who she was with, really-and smiled warmly at Fitz, pressing her hands together. Moving on.

"-staff."

She walked onto the black and white tile-the kitchen hadn't kept up with the industrial charm of the rest of the space. It was just a kitchen. Blue cabinets, leftover from some half-hearted "funky office" renovation in the early 00s, could have belonged in a daycare. They'd work, though. The whole place would work just fine.

"And here's the kitchen. Pretty standard. Stove, sink, coffeemaker, dishes. And, before you ask, we don't clean until you leave. We do have some cleaning services we can recommend, though, if you'd like."

Fitz glanced at his watch, trying to not be too obvious about his desperation to be punctual.

"Thank you-"

He looked down at her nametag, glad to have the excuse.

"-Kelly. The whole team is really excited to move in. I'll get those cleaning recommendations from you later."

Kelly's whole body blushed as Fitz lowered his voice just a little.

"I really have to go though. Thanks again for the tour-and the keys, of course."

Fitz smiled again as he walked to the elevator. He could just about make it to Arrivals on time, if the traffic kept moving.

#####