Chapter Text
“Olivia?”
Olivia sighed hearing the voice. She loved Fitz, she really did, but he is not the Grant she’s looking for, not the Grant she’s flown halfway across the world for.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Seychelles?” Fitz questioned confused. Last he heard Mellie was crying because “Liv left me for her stupid tropical island” but now she's here in the White House, not on a tropical island.
“Zanzibar, but not the point. Where is M-”
Fitz’a hand flew over her mouth before she could utter her name. If Mellie’s name was so much as whispered in a quiet corner of the White House the press would jump on it, and Fitz was hyper-aware of the fact that they’d target Liv to get information from the woman he cheated on Mellie with. He shoots her a look that silences all her muffled questions and complaints. He slowly removes his hand and walks towards the oval, looking make to ensure she's following.
As she closes the door Olivia sees Mellie isn’t here and raises an eyebrow in questioning. “Well?” Fitz looks around tentatively before speaking with evident apprehension. “Mellie isn’t ok. Which is expected after… it's normal. But the press is, well, the press is being the press.”
“Yeah, it is normal so why are you making a big deal out of it? This is Mellie we’re talking about, the whole world could end and she’d still keep going.” Liv says exasperatedly defending Mellie.
Fitz sighs and slowly sits down on the couch, nodding his head for Olivia to sit next to him. Olivia looks at him with a confused look but as his stare intensifies she realises this isn't about him, it’s about Mellie. She sits on the couch opposite of him, partly to defiantly spite him but also to physically symbolise that this isn't about him, it’s about Mellie.
For the first time since he called out her name, Olivia is properly looking at Fitz. He's lost weight and his hair is greyer than she remembered it. For the first time he didn’t look like the leader of the free world, he looked like a grieving father, a concerned husband, a person, rather than a monument. With each breath he breathed he seemed closer to breaking down. Each moment that passed she could feel his resolve crumbling as he shed off the weight of being the president. When he finally looked her in the eye she could see the person, not the president. He took a deep breath to somewhat regain his composure.
“She isn’t working, isn’t sleeping or showering or smiling. She hasn’t gotten out of her robe in a week and in that time she’s drunk more alcohol than in our entire marriage. She hasn't left his grave Liv.” He says, his concern growing before crescendoing in the last statement.
As the last sentence left his mouth Liv immediately grabbed her discarded purse and ran out of the oval, the door vibrating from the force with which it was thrown back. By the time Fitz could process her leaving she was too far for him to catch up with. He doubts she would want to see or listen to him anyway, which he can't blame her for. Instead, he sends for the secret service to meet her and escort her to J- to Mellie.
For the last week that grave had been the highest guarded place in all of America. 24-hour surveillance and a round-the-clock Secret Service detail comprised of its highest-ranking members. They were posted at the start of the road leading to the cemetery, at the gates and all around the grave, all around Mellie. They’d tried many times to get her to leave, even just to sleep in her own bed, but she hadn’t left his side all week. She’d spent the last week, drinking, crying and staring off into the sky, wondering where Jerry would be, where she’d be, where Liv would be, if… That was what she thought of the most: what if? It was what she was thinking as she heard the sound of the gates opening.
Mellie looked to the guards at either side of her questioning why the gate had opened if it wasn’t Fitz, who they would’ve gone to immediately and escorted him over as if something would happen in the three steps from the car to her. However, her interest truly peaked when she heard the signature click of Liv’s high heels walking towards her. The heals set a rushed but even pace until they stopped next to her casting a suspiciously Olivia-shaped shadow over her. She didn’t look, couldn’t look. If it was Liv she didn’t know what she’d do, what she’d say, but if it wasn’t Liv… she wouldn’t be able to handle it if it wasn’t Liv.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, she wasn’t sure, her questions were answered as the shadow leant forward revealing itself to be Olivia’s. Mellie was overcome by a mixture of emotions unsure if she wanted to kiss her or kick her, cry into her arms or scream at her, pull her close and relish in the way she felt, the way she smelt, the way she looked, or banish her forever. Her internal war was won by her hatred of Olivia, with help from the hooch. “Oh lookie who it is. The prodigal Pope returns. Fitz’s office is back that way,” she slurring spits out with a scoff and unforeseen venom, gesturing towards the White House.
Olivia didn’t seem fazed, further confusing her. She watched a small familiar smile form on Liv’s face before she sat down next to her, leaning her back against the gravestone and looking up to the sky as Mellie had been. Mellie looked up at her, watching the way her chest rose and sunk with each deep breath she took. She knew that calling her ‘Olivia’ as opposed to her normal ‘Liv’ was a low blow. She only ever used her full first name when she was mad, she couldn’t even recall the last time she’d said her full name. However, Liv didn’t seem hurt, her smile still plastered on. It was as Liv dropped her head and looked at Mellie, almost inspecting her, that she realised the reason for her smile; when Mellie got drunk, Mellie got Southern, and Liv loved Southern Mellie.
A warm heat radiated throughout her body and she broke their eye contact, sitting up to conceal her blushing cheeks. Olivia, however, maintained her concentrated stare, eyes never parting from her. Mellie was always the strongest-willed person in the room, unshakeable but she always withered under Liv’s gaze, crumbling to vulnerability before her. She eventually gave in, turning her head to meet Liv’s eyes. Liv slowly and without breaking eye contact, lifted her hand before placing it over Mellie’s giving it a small, comforting squeeze. “I’m not here for him.” The words left her mouth with more confidence and sincerity than she’d ever heard before. It reminded Mellie of how things used to be, before Olivia and Fitz happened, before Fitz became blinded by his presidential ambition, before Jerry…
Back on Fitz’s first campaign trail, they had been friends but it was during the second campaign trial that they’d become closer. They spend their days by Fitz’s side, smiling for photos and fixing everything behind the scenes. During this time they’d become accustomed to one another, Liv would often come with Mellie and Teddy to the park or the beach or wherever they went really. She’d become part of Mellie’s life, Teddy even started asking for her at night. After long days Liv would often come back to Mel’s hotel room and they’d stay up all night talking. At first, it was surface level, the election or the kids but eventually, it became more, they’d talk about their childhood or aspirations.
It was during one of these talks that she’d admitted wanting to be more than just the First Lady, still not ready to admit to wanting the presidency, she’d said she wanted to be a senator. Liv had promised to do everything in her power to help her, which she did. She’d made a forgettable offhand comment, jokingly asked how many counties they’d need to rig to get her elected but Liv’s answer was an unforgettable moment for her. Liv had looked her square in the eyes and with more earnestness than she’d ever heard said, “None.” That one word was enough for her but she didn’t stop, “The American people would be stupid not to elect you, Melody Margret Grant.”
That was it. The moment she knew she was in love with Olivia, the moment she knew she’d love her forever. She hated whenever anyone called her ‘Melody’, even Fitz. Her father used to call her Melody when she was younger, before he left them, but after that she couldn’t stand to hear the name. It reminded her that she wasn’t good enough for her father to stay, for anyone to stay. But the way that Liv said it changed everything. She said it like it meant something, it meant that Mellie was good enough to stay for, that she was worth love and deserving of protection. It was in that moment that she’d leaned in and kissed Olivia.
Her perfect pink lips were softer than she’d imagined. The kiss was soft and sweet and tender. It was full of feeling and emotion; full of love. From then on everything continued as normal, they would follow Fitz around cleaning up his messes and posing for photos but when they’d take Teddy out Mel would link their hands together and when they’d go back to her hotel room Liv would share her bed. On the surface, everything was still the same but beneath, everything was different; everything was better.
But that didn't last, nothing good ever could for her. Now she’s sat at her dead Son’s grave with her ex-girlfriend. She took a deep breath as they watched the sun set over the White House and began to shiver. Liv wordlessly took off her red poncho and wrapped it around her. Mellie nodded, wordlessly thanking her before resting her head on Liv’s shoulder. She knew Liv was her ex-girlfriend but in this moment she could forget about the prefix and pretend they were still just girlfriends.
She wasn’t sure how long had passed, content to sit with Liv forever, when the other woman spoke. “We should head back.” The last thing she wanted to do was go back into the White House, leave Liv, leave Jerry… Olivia could see the struggle on her face as she looked between the grave, the White House and the Secret Service. Olivia nodded at her before bringing her hand to Mellie’s cheek and guiding her head back to her shoulder. After a moment she felt Olivia press a kiss into her scalp before resting her head on Mel’s. They sat like that for another unknown period of time before Liv stood, stretching her hand out for Mellie to take. Her grip tightened around the grave, which Olivia obviously noted as she said, “Melody Margret Grant, you’ve got more alcohol in you than Charles Joughin and you’re still shivering, it's time to go back.”
Everyone knew that Olivia could be harsh and stubborn, it was one of the many things she loved about her. Everyone knew how smart she is when it came to being a fixer, another thing she loved. However, very few people knew how funny she was, who else would think to compare her to a man so drunk he survived the Titanic? That was what she loved most about her; her witty intellect that only a select few were privy to.
With a small smile she took Liv’s hand and for the first time in a week she let go of Jerry’s gave. For the first time in a week she had hope; hope that she’d be ok; hope that they’d be ok. Olivia returned to the White House with her, helping her to her room and tucking her in for the night, content in their little moment of bliss.
However, as Olivia made her way through the White House she was filled with rage. She didn’t realise the extent of Mellie’s pain until she watched her cry in her sleep. She didn’t wake, didn’t even stir, as if her body was accustomed to it.
She is furious that Fitz let it get this bad and marches to find him before spiting “You should’ve called me, told me she was hurting this bad. I would’ve come back and fixed it before things got like this.” Fitz doesn't answer for a second but takes a long sigh and says “I tried”. She feels so guilty as she recalls all the times he called her in the last month. She thought that he just needed her, thought that if Mellie wanted her she’d call herself. Truthfully Liv thought that Mellie was mad at her because her mother killed her son and how could Mellie forgive her for that? How could she ask Mellie to forgive her for that? He sees the hurt on her face and retreats back to the Oval, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as he passes.
For all the horrible things Fitz was, he cared. He loved deeply, and even though he wasn’t with Olivia anymore, or with Mellie in any way that mattered, he still loved the two women. And because of that he was aware of what they needed, aware that it wasn’t him but rather each other and he was done standing in the way of that, even if it meant setting his own happiness to the side for now.
Olivia had gone to leave the White House four times since she ran into Fitz but she couldn’t. Couldn’t leave knowing that Mellie was hurting and no one else got it, no one else felt the pain of losing Jerry the way she did, not even Fitz, the one person that could. She paced the halls of the White House as she’d done many times before but where her feet would once lead her to the Oval they now led her to Mellie. She watched the woman in her drunken sleep, occasionally letting out a small content sigh before relaxing back into her pillow.
Having watched Mellie sleep for longer than she was willing to admit she finally decided she had to leave. On her way out she walks past the oval and sees Fitz passed out in his chair, a photo of him and Mellie smiling with all their children and Jerry holding an infant teddy. It comforted her to know that he was feeling some of what Mellie was. Not because it meant he was in pain too but because it meant Mellie has someone that gets it, even if he spends all day pretending he doesn’t. His secretary gave Liv a small sad smile which she returned before going home for the night, still thinking about Mellie.
It’s true what they say; Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life. But without Jerry Mellie lost her anchor and was free-floating. With every second Mellie flew further and further up, Olivia feared that if she couldn’t bring Mellie back down soon that she’d fly too high and burn like Icarus. Olvia refused to accept that Mellie was floating too close to the sun because while Icarus was blinded by ambition, Mellie was blinded by grief and that wasn’t her fault. Icarus flew straight into the sun but Mellie was simply a lost balloon floating too high without an anchor. She was determined to come back tomorrow and anchor her back to Earth.