Once Upon a Dream 46/?
Title: Once Upon a Dream 46/?
Author: Kelinswriter
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Olivia/Natalia
Rating: NC-17 (for lots of things)
Summary: Starts with the infamous scene with the OPT Pregnancy Test. Spins off from there into its own little universe.
Disclaimer: CBS, P&G, Telenext et. al. owns these characters; I'm just taking them off the shelf and playing with them for a while.
WARNING DANGER READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: References to sexual assault and its aftermath will be a part of this story moving forward. Please consider yourselves fully notified. Extra alert this chapter.
Chapters 1-11
Chapters 12-19
Chapters 20-29
Chapters 30-40
41
42
43
44
45
Rafe had never been on a plane before, at least not one where he could see out the windows. He'd ended up in the middle seat on the flight to Greece, and the aisle coming back, and both times, he'd been so freaked out that he didn't remember anything except feeling panicked every time someone walked past him to go to the bathroom. So it was with some fascination that he watched the land speed past beneath him, the farmfields outside Springfield yielding to the rivers and rolling mountains of Kentucky and Tennessee. They flew over a large city at one point, which the attendant said was Atlanta. Rafe looked down at the houses and buildings, the rivers of freeways and endless cars churning about like ants scurrying around an anthill, and wondered if he'd ever visit that place. If I get caught, I won't be visiting anywhere, he thought as he took a sip of his Diet Coke. They'll put me back in prison and throw away the key.
A soft grumbling noise from the seat on the opposite side of the cabin drew his attention. He swiveled his soft leather armchair around so he could look at Olivia, who had been zonked out since shortly after their takeoff from Springfield. She was curled up in the seat, her knees drawn up to her chest, fingers clutching at the blue and silver, Spaulding-logo'd blanket the attendant had draped over her a little ways into the flight. Her eyes were moving beneath her closed lids, barely audible words passing her lips. "Natalia...don't...come back..."
Rafe wondered if she was reliving the shooting, or maybe their departure from the hospital. He'd never seen someone looking as hopeless as Olivia had when she exited his Ma's room, not even during his time in the joint. Like she was marching off to the gas chamber, he thought as he watched Olivia's lids twitch, her fingers clenching around the blanket. I may not get how Ma could love her, but I can't doubt that she loves Ma. No way she'd be doing this otherwise.
Reaching across the aisle, Rafe brushed Olivia's shoulder with his fingertips. She jerked awake with a gasp, her hands crushing the blanket against her in a protective gesture. Rafe pulled back, waiting until she had her bearings before saying anything. He watched Olivia take her surroundings in, watched her straighten in her seat, her legs sliding down until her boot-clad feet rested firmly on the floor. She blinked, turning her head to look at him. "What's up?"
"The flight attendant says we're going to be on the ground in about an hour." Rafe poked a thumb toward the window. "We're not over land any more."
Olivia lifted the shade over the window beside her, squinting as a shaft of sunlight broke across her face. She waited for her eyes to adjust, then peered through the glass. "Looks like we're over the Gulf, following the Florida coastline. If you move to the couch behind me, you can see."
"Nah." Rafe gestured toward the window on his side of the plane. "I like the water."
"Hope so. You're going to be spending a lot of time on it." Olivia rubbed at her face, then raised her arms over her head, her movements languid as a cat. "I'm going to stretch my legs. You want anything?"
"Maybe some water," Rafe said as she got up. He watched her walk to the back of the plane, chit-chatting briefly with the attendant before disappearing into the head. A few moments later, she came out and sat down at the table in the back section of the cabin. "Rafe, c'mere," she called out.
Rafe unhooked his seatbelt and walked toward where Olivia was sitting, arriving just as the attendant set two plates, each holding a sandwich, a pickle, and some chips, onto the table. Olivia gestured at the seat opposite her and said, "Lunchtime."
"I'm not that hungry," Rafe said, though the smell of melted cheese coming from the sandwich was tantalizing.
"Rule number one on this trip is eat when you can." Olivia bit into her pickle and gave a sly grin. "Especially when your grandfather is footing the bill."
Rafe shrugged, then settled into the seat across from her and checked out the sandwich, which turned out to be ham, turkey, and melted swiss. "How'd you know what to have them make me?"
"Your mother talked about you a lot while you were away. I paid attention." Olivia popped a chip into her mouth, giving him an appraising look. "It okay?"
"Yeah, it's cool." Rafe bit into his sandwich, waiting until he'd downed a bite before asking, "So this boat we're going on. Is it big?"
"You worried about getting eaten by a shark?" Rafe's trepidation at the thought must have been evident on his face, because Olivia busted out an eye-crinkling grin. "Relax. We shouldn't be on the boat for more than 24 hours, and we'll be on a vessel that's more than capable of handling these waters. Besides, if Reva could float from the Keys to San Cristobel and back again without a lifejacket, then we should be more than fine."
"Daisy's grandma did..." Rafe froze mid-bite, staring at Olivia. "Huh?"
"Long story," Olivia said with a brisk wave of her hand. "Point is, sailing down to San Cristobel is the least of our worries. After that is when things could get interesting."
"And just how are we sailing down there?" Rafe asked. "You got some yacht no one knows about?"
Rafe noted irritation flaring in Olivia's green eyes. There was an edge to her voice as she asked, "You think maybe you could give me a small break, at least for the duration of this trip?"
Rafe shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich. "I just want to get this done and get back to Ma."
"Me too." Olivia pushed her plate aside and sank back into her chair. She looked out the window, her eyes going distant. "More than you can possibly know."
She didn't say much for the rest of the flight, opting for silence until they touched down at the Key West airport. After they disembarked, Rafe made sure both their bags made it into the towncar that was waiting for them while Olivia made several phone calls. When she got into the backseat of the car, Rafe could see tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. "Is Ma okay?" he asked after she finished giving the driver instructions.
"No change." Olivia flicked a tear away with one knuckle, then turned to look at Rafe. "Emma says hi."
"Crazy munchkin," Rafe said. "I just talked to her this morning."
Olivia turned away, her attention focused on her phone. Under her breath, she whispered, "She still wanted you to know."
The car began moving, and Rafe focused on the view from his side of the car. He took in mansions and boats and greenery, interspersed with flashes of that everpresent turquoise water. After several minutes, he murmured, "I thought my grandpa was rich, but I've never seen anyplace like this."
"Your grandpa could buy half this town if he wanted to." Olivia's mouth widened in a bemused smile. "Not that he would want to. Your grandpa likes to pretend he's from old money, and far too classy for anything as gauche as this."
Rafe looked over at her, his eyebrows raised. "I thought Grandpa grew up rich."
"Oh he did." Olivia smirked at him, something dark and knowing in her gaze. "But the thing about money is, no matter how old yours is, there's always someone whose money is older." She rubbed the heel of her hand against her torn, faded jeans and added, "And that's your first lesson in the ways of San Cristobel."
"'kay," Rafe mumbled, not quite sure what to make of the tone his - he didn't even know what to call her. Stepmother? Mother's lover? Friend?
Not friend, he thought. Travel partner, maybe. But I don't see me and Olivia ever being friends.
Olivia lapsed back into silence, her eyes closed, forehead pressed against the window. The car turned, and the next thing Rafe knew, the greenery on either side of them was replaced by a field of white - boats, row after row of them, big, floating mansions like he'd only seen on TV. Rafe whistled when they went past a yacht that had to be at least one hundred feet long. "Are we taking one of those?"
Olivia let out a snort. "Not quite." She leaned forward, murmuring something to the driver, and a moment later they pulled to a stop.
Rafe got out of the car, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. He noted that they had pulled up near a dock, alongside which was tied up a gleaming white sailboat. It was perhaps sixty feet long, with three masts, two up front, one in the rear. Two men were working on the boat, though Rafe soon realized that the second man was actually a teenager. The dark-haired boy stopped what he was doing, staring at Rafe, while the older man called out, "There she is." Next thing Rafe knew, the man had hopped down off the boat. Olivia practically ran onto the dock, and the man wrapped her up in a hug, whirling her around while she gave a giddy laugh. The man put her down and yelled, "Cardo! Come here!"
Rafe took his bag from the driver, slinging Olivia's over his shoulder as well. Walking onto the dock, he came to a halt a few feet from Olivia and the stranger. The man, who was in his late fifties, was short and wiry, his brown skin stretched tight over high cheekbones. His hair was a thick, wavy mass of black, though heavily threaded with gray, and he had an equally silvering goatee. "What is this?" Olivia was asking, her hand tugging at the hairs on his chin.
"Ow, hey. It took forever to grow that. Don't be yanking it out." Warm brown eyes strayed over Olivia's shoulder, leaving Rafe with the distinct impression that the man took in everything about him at first glance. "Who's this?"
"This is Rafe." Olivia glanced over her shoulder at Rafe, waving him forward. "Rafe, this is an old friend of mine, Manuel Martinez, though everyone calls him Mano. And this very tall person..." She gestured toward the boy on the boat. "That's Cardo. Who was..." She looked back at Mano. "He was four when I left?"
"Probably five," Mano said. "And Rosa is leaving for University in the fall."
"That's impossible." Olivia shook her head, a shocked look on her face. "How'd we get so old?"
"I ask Ty that all the time." Mano reached out his hand, waiting with an amused look on his face while Rafe sorted out the bags sufficiently that he could get his right hand free. "Rafe, nice to meet you. Welcome aboard El Paraíso Terrenal."
Rafe allowed Mano to take his bag and Cardo to take Olivia's, and then he climbed aboard the sailboat, his stomach flipflopping as the deck shifted under his weight. Olivia got on board while Mano directed Rafe and Cardo to carry the bags down a short flight of steps that led to the interior of the boat. They entered alongside the galley, which was separated by a partition from a dining area. Passing through a seating area with a flatscreen TV, Rafe followed the boy into the rear section and a stateroom that was lined on all sides by dark wooden cabinets. A queen-sized bed covered by a multicolored, Southwestern-patterned quilt took up all but a few inches of space in the compartment.
"This one's yours." The boy pointed toward a door opposite the bed. "You've got your own bathroom, shower, a TV with satellite."
"Where's Olivia sleeping?" Rafe asked as Cardo set Olivia's bag down on the floor.
"Oh." The boy, who looked like a younger duplicate of his father save for his smooth-shaven cheeks and the hazel tones in his eyes, considered the question with a frown. "Papi and I use the bunkbeds in the forward compartment, though only one of us will be in there at a time. Let me see what he says." He jerked a head toward Rafe's bag. "Just put that here for now. We need to get upstairs so we can cast off."
"Lemme just use the bathroom first." Rafe waited for the boy to leave, then went into the small bathroom and closed the door. He took a deep breath, feeling his stomach lurch again as the boat swayed. Above, he could hear the chatter of voices - Mano's, Olivia's, then Cardo's boyish tones. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he rubbed it away with the heel of his hand. Despite the luxury of his surroundings, he felt panic creep up his back, his fear of tight spaces wrapping around his throat like a noose. It's just for a day, he thought, trying to bring his terror under control. And pretty soon, we'll be out on that blue water with nothing but clean air all around. I don't even have to sleep here if I don't want to. I could lay out on deck with a blanket.
Splashing some water on his face, Rafe patted it dry with a towel, then returned to the stairwell. He emerged on deck just in time to hear the engines roar to life, the low rumble thrumming through his crosstrainers. Olivia waved Rafe toward the starboard side of the ship, and under her direction, he helped untie the lines that held them to the dock. A moment later, they were gliding free, easing out into a channel that gradually led them onto open water. Olivia began stowing lines, and Rafe couldn't help but be startled at how expertly she coiled the ropes before fastening them with velcro straps against the side of the boat.
"Where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked as the line in his hand became hopelessly tangled for a third time.
"I grew up on an island, Rafe. You think I went drag racing for fun?" Peeling off her denim jacket, Olivia stashed it on a hook along the stairwell leading belowdecks, then jerked her head toward the front of the boat. "Come on, let's go talk Mano into letting the sails out."
When they reached the window enclosed cockpit where Mano was piloting the boat, they found him discussing just that with his son. "Once we clear the channel, we'll let her run free. With these winds, we should be able to make good time, at least until nightfall."
"Any chance I can help with that?" Olivia asked, a childlike excitement in her voice.
"I don't know," Mano said with a sly grin. "You've been a landlubber for so long, you sure you remember how?"
"I will never be a landlubber," Olivia sniffed, but she didn't seem ticked off, just amused at the older man's teasing. That's how she is with Ma, Rafe realized. Anyone else, she'd get pissed if they said something like that, but with this guy, she just lets it go.
Before he had time to wonder at Olivia's uncharacteristic behavior, Cardo was moving across the forward deck, his stride steady despite the rocking of the boat as they moved into open water. He began cranking hard on a line, running a sail up one of the masts poking out of the hull.
"You sure you should be doing that, with your heart and all?" Rafe asked Olivia.
"Heart?" Mano raised an eyebrow, his mouth drooping in a concerned frown. "Something I should know?"
"It's nothing," Olivia said, though she shot Rafe an annoyed glance. "I just, y'know, had a heart transplant last year. No big deal."
"A heart -" Mano rolled his eyes, then pointed toward the controls. "Take the wheel, Spencer."
"But..." Olivia pouted out her lower lip. "Do you know how long it's been?"
"How many times did you bitch at me that you never got to steer the ship?" Mano asked, a dimple creasing his brown skin.
"True." Olivia clasped both hands around the wheel, listening intently while Mano told her what heading to hold. The next thing Rafe knew, he was being dragged up on deck, the older man guiding him to pull this and crank that and hold that while the sails were unfurled. He almost fell on his ass when the boat surged as the mainsail billowed, Olivia's delighted laughter ringing on the wind as they picked up speed. Eventually, Rafe was released from his duties, and he climbed gratefully back into the cockpit, his ears ringing as he took shelter from the wind.
"Having fun?" Olivia asked, a huge grin creasing her face.
"No, but you sure are." Rafe took in Olivia's windwhipped hair, her rapidly reddening skin, her biceps flexing as she smoothly steered the boat on the course Mano had indicated. "Where'd you learn how to sail?"
"My father taught me," Olivia said. "And then later, Mano and I would go sailing."
"He one of your exes?" Rafe asked, his eyes narrowing as he watched the older man and his son secure the last of the sails.
"If I tell you yes, will you be pissed at me?" Olivia turned her gaze on him, and her green eyes were thoughtful, like she really wanted him to understand her response. "I was just out of University, and very messed up. Mano was kind, and good to me."
"But you didn't marry him?" Rafe asked.
"I wanted to marry a prince," Olivia said matter-of-factly. "Besides, he was in love with someone else."
"Who?"
Before Rafe could get an answer, Mano returned to the cockpit. "We'll make a sailor out of Rafe yet," he said with a grin. "Now hand it over, Spencer. Time for you to go do what you do best."
"Mess up other people's marriages," Rafe muttered under his breath.
"I have to make dinner too?" Olivia let out a throaty laugh. "Pilot, deckhand, cook. Why am I paying you for this trip?"
"Would you rather I did it?" Mano shot back.
"There is that," Olivia said, relinquishing the wheel to Mano's control. Rafe noted her eyes on him and started to glance away, but not before he saw the hurt lurking in that green gaze.
Fuck, she heard me, he thought, feeling a flush roll through him. His stomach churned, and he looked out over the waves, taking a deep breath of the clear, salty air as Olivia departed the cockpit. When she was gone, he turned his attention to Mano. "You know, I don't think she really cooks. My ma has to do everything at the farmhouse."
"Olivia?" Mano let out an amused laugh. "She's just being lazy. The lady is a fully trained chef, after all."
"She..." Rafe grabbed onto a handrail as the boat crested a swell, his feet shifting to brace himself as they dropped into a trough between the waves. "What the hell? Wonder if Ma knows."
Mano turned a curious gaze on him. "Who's Ma? And what exactly is the farmhouse?"
Rafe spent the next hour sitting beside Mano in the cockpit, giving as many monosyllabic answers as he could manage to the older man's questions about his life in Springfield. After the first few minutes, Rafe noticed that the man stopped asking anything related to Olivia, his questions shifting to Rafe himself - his likes and dislikes, his friends, his hopes for the future. You'd think he was a social worker, Rafe thought as he explained what he did at his job at the hardware store. He managed to avoid saying much of anything about his Ma, just that she was friends with Olivia and that she was in the hospital. He can give Olivia the third degree later, he thought, swallowing hard against the taste of bile in his throat. No way I'm telling him what they've been up to.
He was about to start asking some questions of his own - about Mano's relationship with Olivia, how long it lasted, why it ended, when Cardo popped his head out of the stairwell and said, "Señorita Spencer says we must come eat now, Papi."
"Take the navstation, Cardo," Mano replied. "I'll be there as soon as we're secure."
The boy disappeared downstairs, and a moment later, the radio crackled. "Ready, Papi."
Mano grinned, turning sparkling brown eyes on Rafe. "Ready for steak like you've never had steak before?"
Rafe didn't quite know what the man was going on about, but once he was settled in at the dinner table, he understood. In a little less than an hour, Olivia had whipped up a feast - grilled steak and shrimp, sauteed mushrooms, and potatoes in some sort of butter sauce that made Rafe's mouth water just looking at it. "You'd think you knew I was coming," Olivia said as she poured red wine into their glasses. "You even had a bottle of Montalsato at the ready."
"You got me addicted," Mano said as he lifted his glass. Waiting for Olivia to sit down, he turned to her, then to Rafe, and said, "To our families - those who are blood, and those we would protect as if their blood were our own."
"Que así sea," Olivia murmured, and Mano repeated the phrase. His eyes, Rafe noted, were thoughtful as they turned on Olivia, who had gone quiet, her attention focused on her food. Rafe took his first mouthful of steak, a shocked noise torn from him as the flavors exploded in his mouth.
Mano let out sharp, barking laugh. "You've been holding out on the kid, Livvie."
"I've been busy," Olivia said. "Running hotels, having kids, getting married, getting divorced. You know, the usual."
"Just another day in the life of Olivia Spencer." Mano took a sip of his wine. "So how many kids do you have?"
"Two daughters." Olivia gave a wistful smile. "Emma will be nine soon, and Ava is older than I want to admit."
"And their dad is..." Mano raised an eyebrow.
"Their dads," Olivia said with a laugh, "are both ex Mr. Spencers. Emma's dad is Phillip Spaulding. Remember him?"
Mano snorted. "I do, I remember him well. And Ava's is..."
Olivia looked down at her plate and murmured, "Jeffrey O'Neill."
Mano set his glass down, tilting his head to the side. "How old did you say she is again?"
Olivia lifted her eyes to meet his, her voice determined as she said, "Twenty-five."
Rafe felt something pass between them, some weird sort of silent communication that made his throat ache, but before he could figure out what it was about it that bothered him so, he felt his whole body break out in a sweat. His stomach knotted, and the next thing he knew, he was gagging on his dinner.
"Rafe? You okay?" Olivia exclaimed, but he couldn't respond. Instinct kicked in, and he lurched for the stairs, dragging himself up them until he was hanging over the side of the boat, clinging desperately to the rail while he heaved his dinner into the ocean. He felt slender hands on him, holding him steady, and he resisted the urge to jerk away even as another shudder pushed through him.
"Oh, man, chum in the water," Mano said, but there was kindness in his voice as he knelt on Rafe's other side. "Hey, buddy, you want something to drink?" he asked, holding out a bottle of water.
"Thanks," Rafe managed to gasp as he took the bottle. He was only able to get down two swallows before he was spewing again.
"Why didn't you tell me you got seasick?" Olivia asked as she rubbed his back, the touch nearly as gentle as his Ma's would have been.
"I've never been on a boat before," Rafe rasped, keeping his head down while he waited for the world to stop spinning.
"I've got some Dramamine in the medkit," Mano said, his words directed at Olivia. "Probably best to get the boy downstairs, let him sleep it off."
"He's diabetic," Olivia said, the worry evident in her tone.
"That complicates things." Mano clapped Rafe on the shoulder. "We'll have to keep a close eye on you, get some juice inside if it looks like your insulin is getting out of whack."
"I'll be okay," Rafe forced out. "If I can just - just -"
He lurched forward, feeling two sets of hands holding on tight as he dry heaved so hard, he half expected to see his shoes come out of his mouth. Dimly, he felt Olivia's hand slide to the back of his neck, her fingertips stroking a light pattern while she murmured soothing words in his ear. When the retching finally stopped, he heard Mano say, "The good news is most people get past the worst of this after a day. The bad news is you have to get through the day."
"Great," Rafe groaned. He felt arms wrap around him on either side, and then he was lurching back down the steps, past the dining area and the amazing dinner Olivia had prepared, its aromatic smell now noxious to his senses. Eventually he found himself sprawled across the large bed, his fingers tangling into the multicolored quilt while he tried to get the world to hold still, if only for a second. Someone pulled his shoes off his feet while Olivia urged him to swallow a pill. A moment later, a cool washcloth was draped over his forehead, and then he faded out, surfacing just long enough to hear the cabin door click shut.
It was quiet after that. He heard faint sounds coming from outside the room - water running, soft voices. He drifted for a while, the boat lurching beneath him, every dip and rise like a hammer blow against the inside of his skull. When he opened his eyes, it felt like someone was digging jagged glass into them, so he closed them again, even though he was afraid of the shapes behind his eyelids, the taunting voices whispering at him from within the close confines of the claustrophobic room. Outside, he thought as he lay there, stinking from his own sweat. If I could just be outside, I could breathe.
He heard the snick of the door, the tiny click burning the insides of his ears. Soft footsteps crossed the carpeting, and then the bed rustled, the mattress shifting beneath him as it took on additional weight. He felt a tug on the quilt, and then it was being draped over his back, the flat of a hand pressing against his clammy forehead.
"Rafe?" Olivia's voice was soft, and more kind than he'd ever heard it. "Let's try to get some juice into you, okay?"
He felt a hand on his shoulder, a knee slide against his back. Olivia's arm circled over his head, and he could hear the sound of the juice bottle opening, smell the orange concentrate contained within as it was lowered near his face. Olivia leaned a little further forward, her balance shifting as the boat tilted, and suddenly her weight was pressing against him, forcing him down into the mattress, just like it had been forced down on that night, the night the voices had been whispering about ever since the door closed. Panic clawed through him as the sweat on his body turned to ice, his muscles coiling. He couldn't stand the feel of a body pressed against him, especially couldn't stand the memory of what came next, and so he slammed his weight back, shoving her away from him as hard as possible. Julice splattered everywhere as Olivia went flying, her slender frame rebounding against the cabinets lining the wall with a resounding clatter.
"Get off me!" Rafe snarled, turning his head to look at Olivia. He watched her face change in the shadowed half-light: to shock first, then pain, then shock again. Then finally, and most unexpectedly, to understanding.
"When?" she whispered, her voice breathy, the word cracking as it came out, splintering into jagged shards that spilled over him like a rain of glass.
Rafe simply lay there, his breathing harsh in his own ears. He thought about ways to answer the question, but words weren't enough to explain what had happened, to encompass the nightmarish memories that taunted him from every corner of the shadowed room. Gonna teach you what happens to sweet little mama's boys, especially when they don't play nice. He still felt the hands on him, some dragging his arms between the bars so he couldn't fight, others yanking at his pants, holding his legs apart. And then the hands on his hips, on his -
"When?" Olivia repeated, and this time her tone was harsh, like her voice was being pushed through the broken glass. He turned to look at her again, saw the agony etched on her face, making her look old, way older than he'd ever seen her look before. Somehow she knew what had been done to him, how they had beaten him and torn him up and left him huddled and bleeding in a corner of his cell, retching on himself while they filed out of the room. In her eyes, he saw her replaying the days that followed, when she had seen the bruises and the sling but kept quiet, because she knew as well as he did that his Ma would try to do something to save him, something stupid that wouldn't do any good. He could see her hating herself, hating him for not telling the truth. But what difference would the truth have made? It was already done.
"Go away," he murmured, tears burning his skin. He buried his face against the quilt, huddling in on himself. "Just go."
He heard her make a soft noise in the back of her throat. There was a clunking noise as she stepped away from the cabinets, a soft, pained breath, and then she was moving around the bed, careful not to bump against it, to touch him in any way as she set the orange juice bottle on a small table bolted near the wall.
"The juice is here, or at least what's left of it," she said softly. "Water too. If you need -" Her voice caught, and he knew she was thinking about touching him, could almost feel her fingertips caress his shoulder. She stopped herself, pulling back, and then she was backing toward the door, a hint of panic in her breathing. "I'll be outside of you want anything. Just call."
There was a click - the door opening - and then a long pause. "Rafe..." Olivia said, and he waited for her to say one of those things he'd lived in terror of hearing from anyone - her, his Ma, Buzz - for too long. I'm sorry. I wish you had told me. This wasn't your fault.
But there were no platitudes, no apologies, no false absolution. Nothing but the sound of the door shutting, of Olivia's footsteps fading away.
Nothing but the realization that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to forget, because he would see it every time he looked in Olivia's eyes.
Author: Kelinswriter
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Olivia/Natalia
Rating: NC-17 (for lots of things)
Summary: Starts with the infamous scene with the OPT Pregnancy Test. Spins off from there into its own little universe.
Disclaimer: CBS, P&G, Telenext et. al. owns these characters; I'm just taking them off the shelf and playing with them for a while.
WARNING DANGER READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: References to sexual assault and its aftermath will be a part of this story moving forward. Please consider yourselves fully notified. Extra alert this chapter.
Chapters 1-11
Chapters 12-19
Chapters 20-29
Chapters 30-40
41
42
43
44
45
Rafe had never been on a plane before, at least not one where he could see out the windows. He'd ended up in the middle seat on the flight to Greece, and the aisle coming back, and both times, he'd been so freaked out that he didn't remember anything except feeling panicked every time someone walked past him to go to the bathroom. So it was with some fascination that he watched the land speed past beneath him, the farmfields outside Springfield yielding to the rivers and rolling mountains of Kentucky and Tennessee. They flew over a large city at one point, which the attendant said was Atlanta. Rafe looked down at the houses and buildings, the rivers of freeways and endless cars churning about like ants scurrying around an anthill, and wondered if he'd ever visit that place. If I get caught, I won't be visiting anywhere, he thought as he took a sip of his Diet Coke. They'll put me back in prison and throw away the key.
A soft grumbling noise from the seat on the opposite side of the cabin drew his attention. He swiveled his soft leather armchair around so he could look at Olivia, who had been zonked out since shortly after their takeoff from Springfield. She was curled up in the seat, her knees drawn up to her chest, fingers clutching at the blue and silver, Spaulding-logo'd blanket the attendant had draped over her a little ways into the flight. Her eyes were moving beneath her closed lids, barely audible words passing her lips. "Natalia...don't...come back..."
Rafe wondered if she was reliving the shooting, or maybe their departure from the hospital. He'd never seen someone looking as hopeless as Olivia had when she exited his Ma's room, not even during his time in the joint. Like she was marching off to the gas chamber, he thought as he watched Olivia's lids twitch, her fingers clenching around the blanket. I may not get how Ma could love her, but I can't doubt that she loves Ma. No way she'd be doing this otherwise.
Reaching across the aisle, Rafe brushed Olivia's shoulder with his fingertips. She jerked awake with a gasp, her hands crushing the blanket against her in a protective gesture. Rafe pulled back, waiting until she had her bearings before saying anything. He watched Olivia take her surroundings in, watched her straighten in her seat, her legs sliding down until her boot-clad feet rested firmly on the floor. She blinked, turning her head to look at him. "What's up?"
"The flight attendant says we're going to be on the ground in about an hour." Rafe poked a thumb toward the window. "We're not over land any more."
Olivia lifted the shade over the window beside her, squinting as a shaft of sunlight broke across her face. She waited for her eyes to adjust, then peered through the glass. "Looks like we're over the Gulf, following the Florida coastline. If you move to the couch behind me, you can see."
"Nah." Rafe gestured toward the window on his side of the plane. "I like the water."
"Hope so. You're going to be spending a lot of time on it." Olivia rubbed at her face, then raised her arms over her head, her movements languid as a cat. "I'm going to stretch my legs. You want anything?"
"Maybe some water," Rafe said as she got up. He watched her walk to the back of the plane, chit-chatting briefly with the attendant before disappearing into the head. A few moments later, she came out and sat down at the table in the back section of the cabin. "Rafe, c'mere," she called out.
Rafe unhooked his seatbelt and walked toward where Olivia was sitting, arriving just as the attendant set two plates, each holding a sandwich, a pickle, and some chips, onto the table. Olivia gestured at the seat opposite her and said, "Lunchtime."
"I'm not that hungry," Rafe said, though the smell of melted cheese coming from the sandwich was tantalizing.
"Rule number one on this trip is eat when you can." Olivia bit into her pickle and gave a sly grin. "Especially when your grandfather is footing the bill."
Rafe shrugged, then settled into the seat across from her and checked out the sandwich, which turned out to be ham, turkey, and melted swiss. "How'd you know what to have them make me?"
"Your mother talked about you a lot while you were away. I paid attention." Olivia popped a chip into her mouth, giving him an appraising look. "It okay?"
"Yeah, it's cool." Rafe bit into his sandwich, waiting until he'd downed a bite before asking, "So this boat we're going on. Is it big?"
"You worried about getting eaten by a shark?" Rafe's trepidation at the thought must have been evident on his face, because Olivia busted out an eye-crinkling grin. "Relax. We shouldn't be on the boat for more than 24 hours, and we'll be on a vessel that's more than capable of handling these waters. Besides, if Reva could float from the Keys to San Cristobel and back again without a lifejacket, then we should be more than fine."
"Daisy's grandma did..." Rafe froze mid-bite, staring at Olivia. "Huh?"
"Long story," Olivia said with a brisk wave of her hand. "Point is, sailing down to San Cristobel is the least of our worries. After that is when things could get interesting."
"And just how are we sailing down there?" Rafe asked. "You got some yacht no one knows about?"
Rafe noted irritation flaring in Olivia's green eyes. There was an edge to her voice as she asked, "You think maybe you could give me a small break, at least for the duration of this trip?"
Rafe shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich. "I just want to get this done and get back to Ma."
"Me too." Olivia pushed her plate aside and sank back into her chair. She looked out the window, her eyes going distant. "More than you can possibly know."
She didn't say much for the rest of the flight, opting for silence until they touched down at the Key West airport. After they disembarked, Rafe made sure both their bags made it into the towncar that was waiting for them while Olivia made several phone calls. When she got into the backseat of the car, Rafe could see tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. "Is Ma okay?" he asked after she finished giving the driver instructions.
"No change." Olivia flicked a tear away with one knuckle, then turned to look at Rafe. "Emma says hi."
"Crazy munchkin," Rafe said. "I just talked to her this morning."
Olivia turned away, her attention focused on her phone. Under her breath, she whispered, "She still wanted you to know."
The car began moving, and Rafe focused on the view from his side of the car. He took in mansions and boats and greenery, interspersed with flashes of that everpresent turquoise water. After several minutes, he murmured, "I thought my grandpa was rich, but I've never seen anyplace like this."
"Your grandpa could buy half this town if he wanted to." Olivia's mouth widened in a bemused smile. "Not that he would want to. Your grandpa likes to pretend he's from old money, and far too classy for anything as gauche as this."
Rafe looked over at her, his eyebrows raised. "I thought Grandpa grew up rich."
"Oh he did." Olivia smirked at him, something dark and knowing in her gaze. "But the thing about money is, no matter how old yours is, there's always someone whose money is older." She rubbed the heel of her hand against her torn, faded jeans and added, "And that's your first lesson in the ways of San Cristobel."
"'kay," Rafe mumbled, not quite sure what to make of the tone his - he didn't even know what to call her. Stepmother? Mother's lover? Friend?
Not friend, he thought. Travel partner, maybe. But I don't see me and Olivia ever being friends.
Olivia lapsed back into silence, her eyes closed, forehead pressed against the window. The car turned, and the next thing Rafe knew, the greenery on either side of them was replaced by a field of white - boats, row after row of them, big, floating mansions like he'd only seen on TV. Rafe whistled when they went past a yacht that had to be at least one hundred feet long. "Are we taking one of those?"
Olivia let out a snort. "Not quite." She leaned forward, murmuring something to the driver, and a moment later they pulled to a stop.
Rafe got out of the car, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. He noted that they had pulled up near a dock, alongside which was tied up a gleaming white sailboat. It was perhaps sixty feet long, with three masts, two up front, one in the rear. Two men were working on the boat, though Rafe soon realized that the second man was actually a teenager. The dark-haired boy stopped what he was doing, staring at Rafe, while the older man called out, "There she is." Next thing Rafe knew, the man had hopped down off the boat. Olivia practically ran onto the dock, and the man wrapped her up in a hug, whirling her around while she gave a giddy laugh. The man put her down and yelled, "Cardo! Come here!"
Rafe took his bag from the driver, slinging Olivia's over his shoulder as well. Walking onto the dock, he came to a halt a few feet from Olivia and the stranger. The man, who was in his late fifties, was short and wiry, his brown skin stretched tight over high cheekbones. His hair was a thick, wavy mass of black, though heavily threaded with gray, and he had an equally silvering goatee. "What is this?" Olivia was asking, her hand tugging at the hairs on his chin.
"Ow, hey. It took forever to grow that. Don't be yanking it out." Warm brown eyes strayed over Olivia's shoulder, leaving Rafe with the distinct impression that the man took in everything about him at first glance. "Who's this?"
"This is Rafe." Olivia glanced over her shoulder at Rafe, waving him forward. "Rafe, this is an old friend of mine, Manuel Martinez, though everyone calls him Mano. And this very tall person..." She gestured toward the boy on the boat. "That's Cardo. Who was..." She looked back at Mano. "He was four when I left?"
"Probably five," Mano said. "And Rosa is leaving for University in the fall."
"That's impossible." Olivia shook her head, a shocked look on her face. "How'd we get so old?"
"I ask Ty that all the time." Mano reached out his hand, waiting with an amused look on his face while Rafe sorted out the bags sufficiently that he could get his right hand free. "Rafe, nice to meet you. Welcome aboard El Paraíso Terrenal."
Rafe allowed Mano to take his bag and Cardo to take Olivia's, and then he climbed aboard the sailboat, his stomach flipflopping as the deck shifted under his weight. Olivia got on board while Mano directed Rafe and Cardo to carry the bags down a short flight of steps that led to the interior of the boat. They entered alongside the galley, which was separated by a partition from a dining area. Passing through a seating area with a flatscreen TV, Rafe followed the boy into the rear section and a stateroom that was lined on all sides by dark wooden cabinets. A queen-sized bed covered by a multicolored, Southwestern-patterned quilt took up all but a few inches of space in the compartment.
"This one's yours." The boy pointed toward a door opposite the bed. "You've got your own bathroom, shower, a TV with satellite."
"Where's Olivia sleeping?" Rafe asked as Cardo set Olivia's bag down on the floor.
"Oh." The boy, who looked like a younger duplicate of his father save for his smooth-shaven cheeks and the hazel tones in his eyes, considered the question with a frown. "Papi and I use the bunkbeds in the forward compartment, though only one of us will be in there at a time. Let me see what he says." He jerked a head toward Rafe's bag. "Just put that here for now. We need to get upstairs so we can cast off."
"Lemme just use the bathroom first." Rafe waited for the boy to leave, then went into the small bathroom and closed the door. He took a deep breath, feeling his stomach lurch again as the boat swayed. Above, he could hear the chatter of voices - Mano's, Olivia's, then Cardo's boyish tones. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he rubbed it away with the heel of his hand. Despite the luxury of his surroundings, he felt panic creep up his back, his fear of tight spaces wrapping around his throat like a noose. It's just for a day, he thought, trying to bring his terror under control. And pretty soon, we'll be out on that blue water with nothing but clean air all around. I don't even have to sleep here if I don't want to. I could lay out on deck with a blanket.
Splashing some water on his face, Rafe patted it dry with a towel, then returned to the stairwell. He emerged on deck just in time to hear the engines roar to life, the low rumble thrumming through his crosstrainers. Olivia waved Rafe toward the starboard side of the ship, and under her direction, he helped untie the lines that held them to the dock. A moment later, they were gliding free, easing out into a channel that gradually led them onto open water. Olivia began stowing lines, and Rafe couldn't help but be startled at how expertly she coiled the ropes before fastening them with velcro straps against the side of the boat.
"Where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked as the line in his hand became hopelessly tangled for a third time.
"I grew up on an island, Rafe. You think I went drag racing for fun?" Peeling off her denim jacket, Olivia stashed it on a hook along the stairwell leading belowdecks, then jerked her head toward the front of the boat. "Come on, let's go talk Mano into letting the sails out."
When they reached the window enclosed cockpit where Mano was piloting the boat, they found him discussing just that with his son. "Once we clear the channel, we'll let her run free. With these winds, we should be able to make good time, at least until nightfall."
"Any chance I can help with that?" Olivia asked, a childlike excitement in her voice.
"I don't know," Mano said with a sly grin. "You've been a landlubber for so long, you sure you remember how?"
"I will never be a landlubber," Olivia sniffed, but she didn't seem ticked off, just amused at the older man's teasing. That's how she is with Ma, Rafe realized. Anyone else, she'd get pissed if they said something like that, but with this guy, she just lets it go.
Before he had time to wonder at Olivia's uncharacteristic behavior, Cardo was moving across the forward deck, his stride steady despite the rocking of the boat as they moved into open water. He began cranking hard on a line, running a sail up one of the masts poking out of the hull.
"You sure you should be doing that, with your heart and all?" Rafe asked Olivia.
"Heart?" Mano raised an eyebrow, his mouth drooping in a concerned frown. "Something I should know?"
"It's nothing," Olivia said, though she shot Rafe an annoyed glance. "I just, y'know, had a heart transplant last year. No big deal."
"A heart -" Mano rolled his eyes, then pointed toward the controls. "Take the wheel, Spencer."
"But..." Olivia pouted out her lower lip. "Do you know how long it's been?"
"How many times did you bitch at me that you never got to steer the ship?" Mano asked, a dimple creasing his brown skin.
"True." Olivia clasped both hands around the wheel, listening intently while Mano told her what heading to hold. The next thing Rafe knew, he was being dragged up on deck, the older man guiding him to pull this and crank that and hold that while the sails were unfurled. He almost fell on his ass when the boat surged as the mainsail billowed, Olivia's delighted laughter ringing on the wind as they picked up speed. Eventually, Rafe was released from his duties, and he climbed gratefully back into the cockpit, his ears ringing as he took shelter from the wind.
"Having fun?" Olivia asked, a huge grin creasing her face.
"No, but you sure are." Rafe took in Olivia's windwhipped hair, her rapidly reddening skin, her biceps flexing as she smoothly steered the boat on the course Mano had indicated. "Where'd you learn how to sail?"
"My father taught me," Olivia said. "And then later, Mano and I would go sailing."
"He one of your exes?" Rafe asked, his eyes narrowing as he watched the older man and his son secure the last of the sails.
"If I tell you yes, will you be pissed at me?" Olivia turned her gaze on him, and her green eyes were thoughtful, like she really wanted him to understand her response. "I was just out of University, and very messed up. Mano was kind, and good to me."
"But you didn't marry him?" Rafe asked.
"I wanted to marry a prince," Olivia said matter-of-factly. "Besides, he was in love with someone else."
"Who?"
Before Rafe could get an answer, Mano returned to the cockpit. "We'll make a sailor out of Rafe yet," he said with a grin. "Now hand it over, Spencer. Time for you to go do what you do best."
"Mess up other people's marriages," Rafe muttered under his breath.
"I have to make dinner too?" Olivia let out a throaty laugh. "Pilot, deckhand, cook. Why am I paying you for this trip?"
"Would you rather I did it?" Mano shot back.
"There is that," Olivia said, relinquishing the wheel to Mano's control. Rafe noted her eyes on him and started to glance away, but not before he saw the hurt lurking in that green gaze.
Fuck, she heard me, he thought, feeling a flush roll through him. His stomach churned, and he looked out over the waves, taking a deep breath of the clear, salty air as Olivia departed the cockpit. When she was gone, he turned his attention to Mano. "You know, I don't think she really cooks. My ma has to do everything at the farmhouse."
"Olivia?" Mano let out an amused laugh. "She's just being lazy. The lady is a fully trained chef, after all."
"She..." Rafe grabbed onto a handrail as the boat crested a swell, his feet shifting to brace himself as they dropped into a trough between the waves. "What the hell? Wonder if Ma knows."
Mano turned a curious gaze on him. "Who's Ma? And what exactly is the farmhouse?"
Rafe spent the next hour sitting beside Mano in the cockpit, giving as many monosyllabic answers as he could manage to the older man's questions about his life in Springfield. After the first few minutes, Rafe noticed that the man stopped asking anything related to Olivia, his questions shifting to Rafe himself - his likes and dislikes, his friends, his hopes for the future. You'd think he was a social worker, Rafe thought as he explained what he did at his job at the hardware store. He managed to avoid saying much of anything about his Ma, just that she was friends with Olivia and that she was in the hospital. He can give Olivia the third degree later, he thought, swallowing hard against the taste of bile in his throat. No way I'm telling him what they've been up to.
He was about to start asking some questions of his own - about Mano's relationship with Olivia, how long it lasted, why it ended, when Cardo popped his head out of the stairwell and said, "Señorita Spencer says we must come eat now, Papi."
"Take the navstation, Cardo," Mano replied. "I'll be there as soon as we're secure."
The boy disappeared downstairs, and a moment later, the radio crackled. "Ready, Papi."
Mano grinned, turning sparkling brown eyes on Rafe. "Ready for steak like you've never had steak before?"
Rafe didn't quite know what the man was going on about, but once he was settled in at the dinner table, he understood. In a little less than an hour, Olivia had whipped up a feast - grilled steak and shrimp, sauteed mushrooms, and potatoes in some sort of butter sauce that made Rafe's mouth water just looking at it. "You'd think you knew I was coming," Olivia said as she poured red wine into their glasses. "You even had a bottle of Montalsato at the ready."
"You got me addicted," Mano said as he lifted his glass. Waiting for Olivia to sit down, he turned to her, then to Rafe, and said, "To our families - those who are blood, and those we would protect as if their blood were our own."
"Que así sea," Olivia murmured, and Mano repeated the phrase. His eyes, Rafe noted, were thoughtful as they turned on Olivia, who had gone quiet, her attention focused on her food. Rafe took his first mouthful of steak, a shocked noise torn from him as the flavors exploded in his mouth.
Mano let out sharp, barking laugh. "You've been holding out on the kid, Livvie."
"I've been busy," Olivia said. "Running hotels, having kids, getting married, getting divorced. You know, the usual."
"Just another day in the life of Olivia Spencer." Mano took a sip of his wine. "So how many kids do you have?"
"Two daughters." Olivia gave a wistful smile. "Emma will be nine soon, and Ava is older than I want to admit."
"And their dad is..." Mano raised an eyebrow.
"Their dads," Olivia said with a laugh, "are both ex Mr. Spencers. Emma's dad is Phillip Spaulding. Remember him?"
Mano snorted. "I do, I remember him well. And Ava's is..."
Olivia looked down at her plate and murmured, "Jeffrey O'Neill."
Mano set his glass down, tilting his head to the side. "How old did you say she is again?"
Olivia lifted her eyes to meet his, her voice determined as she said, "Twenty-five."
Rafe felt something pass between them, some weird sort of silent communication that made his throat ache, but before he could figure out what it was about it that bothered him so, he felt his whole body break out in a sweat. His stomach knotted, and the next thing he knew, he was gagging on his dinner.
"Rafe? You okay?" Olivia exclaimed, but he couldn't respond. Instinct kicked in, and he lurched for the stairs, dragging himself up them until he was hanging over the side of the boat, clinging desperately to the rail while he heaved his dinner into the ocean. He felt slender hands on him, holding him steady, and he resisted the urge to jerk away even as another shudder pushed through him.
"Oh, man, chum in the water," Mano said, but there was kindness in his voice as he knelt on Rafe's other side. "Hey, buddy, you want something to drink?" he asked, holding out a bottle of water.
"Thanks," Rafe managed to gasp as he took the bottle. He was only able to get down two swallows before he was spewing again.
"Why didn't you tell me you got seasick?" Olivia asked as she rubbed his back, the touch nearly as gentle as his Ma's would have been.
"I've never been on a boat before," Rafe rasped, keeping his head down while he waited for the world to stop spinning.
"I've got some Dramamine in the medkit," Mano said, his words directed at Olivia. "Probably best to get the boy downstairs, let him sleep it off."
"He's diabetic," Olivia said, the worry evident in her tone.
"That complicates things." Mano clapped Rafe on the shoulder. "We'll have to keep a close eye on you, get some juice inside if it looks like your insulin is getting out of whack."
"I'll be okay," Rafe forced out. "If I can just - just -"
He lurched forward, feeling two sets of hands holding on tight as he dry heaved so hard, he half expected to see his shoes come out of his mouth. Dimly, he felt Olivia's hand slide to the back of his neck, her fingertips stroking a light pattern while she murmured soothing words in his ear. When the retching finally stopped, he heard Mano say, "The good news is most people get past the worst of this after a day. The bad news is you have to get through the day."
"Great," Rafe groaned. He felt arms wrap around him on either side, and then he was lurching back down the steps, past the dining area and the amazing dinner Olivia had prepared, its aromatic smell now noxious to his senses. Eventually he found himself sprawled across the large bed, his fingers tangling into the multicolored quilt while he tried to get the world to hold still, if only for a second. Someone pulled his shoes off his feet while Olivia urged him to swallow a pill. A moment later, a cool washcloth was draped over his forehead, and then he faded out, surfacing just long enough to hear the cabin door click shut.
It was quiet after that. He heard faint sounds coming from outside the room - water running, soft voices. He drifted for a while, the boat lurching beneath him, every dip and rise like a hammer blow against the inside of his skull. When he opened his eyes, it felt like someone was digging jagged glass into them, so he closed them again, even though he was afraid of the shapes behind his eyelids, the taunting voices whispering at him from within the close confines of the claustrophobic room. Outside, he thought as he lay there, stinking from his own sweat. If I could just be outside, I could breathe.
He heard the snick of the door, the tiny click burning the insides of his ears. Soft footsteps crossed the carpeting, and then the bed rustled, the mattress shifting beneath him as it took on additional weight. He felt a tug on the quilt, and then it was being draped over his back, the flat of a hand pressing against his clammy forehead.
"Rafe?" Olivia's voice was soft, and more kind than he'd ever heard it. "Let's try to get some juice into you, okay?"
He felt a hand on his shoulder, a knee slide against his back. Olivia's arm circled over his head, and he could hear the sound of the juice bottle opening, smell the orange concentrate contained within as it was lowered near his face. Olivia leaned a little further forward, her balance shifting as the boat tilted, and suddenly her weight was pressing against him, forcing him down into the mattress, just like it had been forced down on that night, the night the voices had been whispering about ever since the door closed. Panic clawed through him as the sweat on his body turned to ice, his muscles coiling. He couldn't stand the feel of a body pressed against him, especially couldn't stand the memory of what came next, and so he slammed his weight back, shoving her away from him as hard as possible. Julice splattered everywhere as Olivia went flying, her slender frame rebounding against the cabinets lining the wall with a resounding clatter.
"Get off me!" Rafe snarled, turning his head to look at Olivia. He watched her face change in the shadowed half-light: to shock first, then pain, then shock again. Then finally, and most unexpectedly, to understanding.
"When?" she whispered, her voice breathy, the word cracking as it came out, splintering into jagged shards that spilled over him like a rain of glass.
Rafe simply lay there, his breathing harsh in his own ears. He thought about ways to answer the question, but words weren't enough to explain what had happened, to encompass the nightmarish memories that taunted him from every corner of the shadowed room. Gonna teach you what happens to sweet little mama's boys, especially when they don't play nice. He still felt the hands on him, some dragging his arms between the bars so he couldn't fight, others yanking at his pants, holding his legs apart. And then the hands on his hips, on his -
"When?" Olivia repeated, and this time her tone was harsh, like her voice was being pushed through the broken glass. He turned to look at her again, saw the agony etched on her face, making her look old, way older than he'd ever seen her look before. Somehow she knew what had been done to him, how they had beaten him and torn him up and left him huddled and bleeding in a corner of his cell, retching on himself while they filed out of the room. In her eyes, he saw her replaying the days that followed, when she had seen the bruises and the sling but kept quiet, because she knew as well as he did that his Ma would try to do something to save him, something stupid that wouldn't do any good. He could see her hating herself, hating him for not telling the truth. But what difference would the truth have made? It was already done.
"Go away," he murmured, tears burning his skin. He buried his face against the quilt, huddling in on himself. "Just go."
He heard her make a soft noise in the back of her throat. There was a clunking noise as she stepped away from the cabinets, a soft, pained breath, and then she was moving around the bed, careful not to bump against it, to touch him in any way as she set the orange juice bottle on a small table bolted near the wall.
"The juice is here, or at least what's left of it," she said softly. "Water too. If you need -" Her voice caught, and he knew she was thinking about touching him, could almost feel her fingertips caress his shoulder. She stopped herself, pulling back, and then she was backing toward the door, a hint of panic in her breathing. "I'll be outside of you want anything. Just call."
There was a click - the door opening - and then a long pause. "Rafe..." Olivia said, and he waited for her to say one of those things he'd lived in terror of hearing from anyone - her, his Ma, Buzz - for too long. I'm sorry. I wish you had told me. This wasn't your fault.
But there were no platitudes, no apologies, no false absolution. Nothing but the sound of the door shutting, of Olivia's footsteps fading away.
Nothing but the realization that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to forget, because he would see it every time he looked in Olivia's eyes.