Title: Jam

Summary: Fitz and Olivia's call (re: Vermont) is recorded and played for the world. What's the game plan now?

Rating: Currently K+ (Will Progress to M)

Disclaimer: All characters are not mine. This first chapter is heavy in dialogue from the show and presented in italics to emphasize that it is not mine.

A/N: Hello and thank you so much for trying out this story! I'm not quite sure where its going or if I'm going to continue it, but re-watching episode 2 this season, I couldn't help but keep picturing this scenario. Any story I write will always be Olitz Happily Ever After. Please let me know if you think I should continue!

Chapter 1: Why We Don't Make Jam


"Reports are in that a phone call between President Grant and Olivia Pope confirms that the President's mistress was not in fact Jeannine Locke, but Olivia Pope as originally said. It seems that Jeannine Locke was merely a diversion to hide the relationship between the President and Ms. Pope- a relationship that appears to extend well beyond a simple affair. Let's take a listen."

A photo of Fitz and one of me comes up onto the screen, a transcript of the call appearing below our headshots. I can't help but sigh, casting my eyes to the table. I know which call this is, and part of me is glad that everything is cleared up in a two-minute sound byte.

The larger part of me is mortified- mortified that my business is being broadcasted on national television and that I'm watching it live with my colleagues, my friends- the people I had been trying to deceive.

I lift my eyes and attempt to stare neutrally at the screen. Out of the corner of my eye I see Abby flash a look at my face.

The recording starts:

"Hi," I hear my own voice first.

"Hi," his voice is deep, familiar, and intimate. I had never noticed before that he sounds so different when he speaks to me.

"What happened to Jeannine?"

"I know."

"We can't come clean now, can we?" he sounds disappointed. I know how he felt, because I had felt it too then.

"No, it'll make you look like you unzip your pants for anything with a pulse," I feel my lips curve slightly as Harrison let's out a laugh disguised as a cough, probably at the fact that my comment just sounds so seriously blunt and like me. And that it's directed at the leader to the free world.

"Ouch"

"Sorry." I can hear myself sigh.

"I miss you."

"Stop." When he says things like that, I go crazy.

"When something happens- something strange or funny or- I met the Dali Lama last week. We played basketball."

"You did not."

"I did, I swear. He asked, so no press, no witnesses, just, I shot hoops with the Dali Lama, it was-the man has a jump shot," I can't help but laugh, "he fouled me twice, it was surreal. And I picked up the phone to call you. Something happens and you're the one I want to talk to."

"You don't want to talk to me." I only want to talk to him.

"I only want to talk to you."

"I'm going after the White House. Clearing Jeannine's name means going after the White House, after you."

"I understand."

"It's going to give this story legs, it's going to make it hard for you."

"She's an innocent kid, bring it."

"I won't hold back."

"You better not."

God we speak the same language. When Verna said we breathe in sync, she was really onto something.

"Somewhere, in another life, in another reality, we are married, and we have four kids, and we live in Vermont, and I'm the mayor and –"

"And I make jam."

"And you make jam." He pauses. "I love you, Livy. I wish- I wish we could just let all of this go. All of the lies and the cover-ups. I only want you. For years, all I've wanted is you."

I can feel my pulse picking up. This is so intimate, so wonderful, and so not meant for public consumption. I can feel stares on my neck as I glance down at the table- it was one thing when they knew I'd been sleeping with him, another for them, and everyone, to know that he loves me. And pretty soon, that I love him too.

"Stop," I hear my voice repeat, "We can't do this. We can't have this conversation again."

"I don't want to have the conversation, Livy, I want to divorce Mellie and be with you."

"Fitz," I sound exasperated, even to my own ears, "You know you can't do that, that we can't do that."

"Why not?"

"There is a reason."

I know I sound angry.

"What?"

"There is a reason that this is not Vermont, that we don't have kids, and that you are not the mayor. There is a reason we are not happy, its so you can be president. That's the point!"

"What if I don't want to be president without you?" his voice sounds loud, anxious, "The man I am without you- I'm nothing. I'm so much better with you- I'm such a better man, such a better president. Livy, I don't want to do this anymore. I want to tell the truth, consequences be damned."

There is a silence, a quiet, tense pause.

"I love you too, Fitz," I hear my voice and I hate that the world has just heard it too. It sounds intimate, vulnerable in a way that I am never vulnerable to the pubic, that I am only vulnerable with him.

He sighs.

"I know."

This pause is resigned and lonely and vulnerable- I can hear Fitz breathe.

"I won't hold back, with Jeannine, I'm going to attack the White House and I'm going to go for blood."

"Go for the jugular."

"Bye, Fitz."

I sound breathy and so unlike myself.

"Bye Livy."

The call ends and I hold my breath, trying to contain the panic and embarrassment.

"So that was a call between President Grant and Olivia Pope, his campaign fixer. Now this call clearly changes the game for the president. Its clear from this call that he is not having a series of affairs, but a single affair that resembles a relationship more than a mere fling. I'm sure that the First Lady-"

"Turn it off," I say, because I can't listen to any more commentary from the media about something they know literally nothing about.

My phone rings before anyone can say something.

"Are you okay?" he asks without preamble.

"Yes," I answer immediately, my voice tight as I recall what has just come out of my TV screen.

"Really?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me," he answers.

"Then no," I say, standing and moving towards the door, "I didn't exactly need for my personal life to be so keenly in the public's eye, and neither did you."

"And you don't want anyone to see you as weak? That call doesn't make you weak Livy," he finishes, reading my mind, like always.

"It's… intimate," I finish as the door closes behind me and my voice is, at the very least, hidden from my friends, "I'm not like that with anybody but you."

"I know. I wish I could make it better, Baby. I wish I could be there with you."

I sigh and despite myself, I can feel my resolve cracking slightly and tears gathering in my eyes. I will be damned if they leak out onto my cheeks.

"Me too," I admit. "I'll work on damage control with my staff and get back to you on a plan."

"Okay."

"Bye Fitz," I finish, and I hear him say my name before I hang up, turning to face the music.