FIC: Crossroads Part 12/20; Guiding Light
TITLE: Crossroads
AUTHOR: Wonko
FANDOM: Guiding Light
RATING: PG-13 for this part, because Olivia swears like a sailor when she's hungover
SUMMARY: Natalia needs to make a choice between her past and her future.
TIMELINE: Begins immediately after the episode on the 12th of May and goes off into its own little world at that point.
DEDICATION: This is dedicated to the memory of badtyler, a great writer and an even better friend.
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10] [ Part 11]
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm never drinking again," Olivia groaned as she rolled over and swatted at the alarm clock. The incessant chirpiness of whatever vacuous DJ was on that hour stopped, much to her relief. Her eyes creaked open. She hadn't thought to close the curtains when she'd stumbled into bed the night before and she regretted it now. Squinting against the light, her head pounding, she tried to look at the clock. The digits swam before her bleary eyes, mocking her.
She sat up and immediately felt her stomach shift. She held her breath and swallowed hard. Only when she was sure she wasn't going to be sick did she swing her legs out of bed and rise unsteadily to her feet.
It was only then that she realised that the pounding wasn't just in her head. Someone was hammering at the farmhouse door.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she yelled, holding her palms against her ears. Blearily she stumbled downstairs. She was quite proud of herself for managing it without stumbling over her own feet, which seemed to be made of lead. "Yeah, Jesus, you can stop pounding on the freakin' door, I'm right here!"
She flung the door open and couldn't stifle a groan at who she saw there. Frank came in without waiting to be invited. "Olivia," he said.
Olivia flopped onto the couch, holding her head in her hands. "Frank," she groaned. "What the hell? Why are you trying to bang my door down at stupid o'clock in the morning?"
Frank began to pace. Gradually the realisation that this was not typical Frank behaviour penetrated Olivia's foggy brain. "Is Doris here?" he said at last.
Olivia frowned angrily. "What? You burst in here at some ungodly fucking hour and that's what you ask me? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Frank's jaw clenched. "I saw you with her," he ground out.
Olivia shook her head. "What, at Towers? She's a friend...sort of, anyway...I'm allowed to have dinner with my friends."
Frank laughed bitterly. "Oh, this was a lot more than dinner."
Olivia threw her hands in the air. "You're delusional," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Frank's voice raised. "I saw you kissing her," he insisted.
"What?" Olivia shook her head. "Kissing her? What the-" Suddenly she broke off, her face turning even greener than it had been, if that was at all possible. "Oh," she said, horror creeping into her voice. "Oh my fucking fuck."
Frank shot her a look of pure disgust. "You sicken me," he ground out.
Olivia hid her face in her hands. "It's not what you think," she said. "Honest, Frank-"
"Honest?" he shouted incredulously. "Honest? How can you dare to even say that word? It means nothing to you, it never has."
Olivia's eyes flickered to the crucifix on the wall. This is my punishment for every sin I've ever committed, right? she asked it silently. Hungover, with a morally outraged Frank in my face? Do I really deserve this?
"That's not fair Frank-" she began, but Frank cut her off.
"No Olivia, you know what's not fair? The woman I love leaving me at the altar for a vile, pathetic excuse for a human being. A woman who can't even stay faithful to her for a week!"
"I wasn't being unfaithful!" Olivia yelled. "Jesus Christ, we're not even a couple yet."
Frank's lip curled. "Oh, how typical of you, Olivia," he said.
Olivia shook her head. "That's not what I meant," she said. "Look, Doris kissed me okay, not the other way around."
Frank threw his arms out wide. "You still got in the car with her, you couldn't have hated it that much."
Olivia stood up a little too quickly and swayed on her feet. Frank instinctively reached a hand out to steady her. Olivia shook him off. "You don't have any idea what you saw," she ground out. "And I'm done explaining myself to you."
Frank's face twisted into a mockery of a smile. "It's not me you have to explain yourself to," he said.
Olivia's heart dropped through the floor. "What?" Her voice was low and deadly.
Frank didn't seem to hear the danger in it. "I called Natalia last night. She was pretty interested in your little escapade." He looked her up and down one last time before heading to the door. "God, she deserves so much better than you," he said, a parting shot.
"Oh dear God..." Olivia whispered after he was gone. "Oh dear sweet fucking God."
In a daze she rushed back upstairs. Her cellphone was by the bed and she fumbled for it blindly. Natalia's phone rang twice before she picked up.
"Natalia-" she began breathlessly, but the other woman cut her off.
"Save it." Her voice was cold and hard. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say."
A choked sob rose up in Olivia's throat. "Natalia, baby, please-" she said, but it was too late. Natalia had hung up.
With trembling hands she dialled Natalia again, but it was no good. Voicemail.
A tight scream burst from her chest. She couldn't decide who she wanted to kill more - Doris or Frank. Maybe she'd just do both.
Right after she threw up.
* * * * * *
Natalia spent a day studiously ignoring Olivia's calls and a night tossing and turning and alternately punching the pillows and weeping into them, and before she knew it it was the morning of her father's funeral. Her mother looked at her strangely when she appeared in the living room in a neatly pressed pantsuit with bloodshot eyes, but she said nothing. She had enough on her mind.
It was a short drive to the church. Natalia slipped an arm around her mother's shoulder as they filed in, and was not rebuffed. Josephine slumped against her side, already weeping.
Natalia felt tears nipping at her own eyes, but not for her father. She had expected the feelings of grief that had overtaken her that first night in Chicago to come back, but they eluded her. Her tears were for herself and for the empty pit that had burst open inside her after Frank had called. Olivia, her mind murmured. How could you?
She sat through the first hymn in a daze, not trusting her voice to sing. The readings were similarly a blur to her, but she perked up her ears as the priest began to talk about her father, and what a wonderful man he had been, how unselfish, how devoted to his religion and his family.
The back of her neck turned red and she ground her teeth. A long dormant anger growled in the pit of her stomach, aching to be set free. Suddenly she felt her mother's warning hand on her arm. She turned and met her eyes. She expected to see anger there, perhaps scolding. Instead she saw pain and a quiet pleading and it was that, more than anything, that made her bite her tongue.
So they wanted to paint her father as some kind of saint. It didn't matter. They could believe what they wanted. She knew the truth. She knew what had happened eighteen years ago. She knew what kind of man her father really was.
"Sorry I'm late."
Natalia turned in surprise as she felt someone slide into the pew beside her and whisper into her ear. "Rafe!" she hissed, letting go of her mother's hand and turning to embrace him. "How? Why?"
Rafe ignored the murmurs of displeasure from some of the mourners around them. "Olivia," he said simply. "She told the parole board about your dad and they gave me a week's compassionate leave."
Natalia had focused on only one part of his statement. "Olivia?" she whispered. "Is she here?"
Rafe nodded. "She's staying at the Omni downtown," he said. "I told her to come to the church but she wouldn't."
Natalia shook her head in a daze. Olivia was here, in Chicago, just a short cab ride away. She could be there in twenty minutes.
The tinkle of a bell forced her mind back to reality. The priest was holding up the host, consecrating it. Thirty-four years of Catholic training made her bow her head. "My Lord and my God," she whispered, along with half the congregation. Rafe took her hand and squeezed.
Josephine was watching them with naked curiosity. Especially Rafe. She couldn't take her eyes off him. "Madre de Dios," she murmured. "You look just like him..."
Natalia looked at her mother, and then at Rafe. For the first time she saw her son through her mother's eyes and she gasped. He really did look like her father. Something around the eyes, and the nose. The way he frowned, like he was doing now.
She didn't have time to think about that. Before she knew it she was standing and reciting the Our Father, and then she was filing out past her father's coffin to receive communion. It was when she was on her way back to her seat that she made the decision, almost without thinking about it. She grabbed Rafe's hand. "Stay with your grandmother," she whispered into his ear. "I'll be back later."
She ignored the stares and muffled whispers as she bypassed her pew and headed for the door. She broke into a run when she got outside. "Taxi!" she yelled, as soon as she got to the kerb.
There had only been one thing on her mind since Rafe had told her Olivia was in town. The other woman was like a magnet to her, even now. There was no question of not seeing her.
It was time for them to have this out, once and for all.
TBC...
AUTHOR: Wonko
FANDOM: Guiding Light
RATING: PG-13 for this part, because Olivia swears like a sailor when she's hungover
SUMMARY: Natalia needs to make a choice between her past and her future.
TIMELINE: Begins immediately after the episode on the 12th of May and goes off into its own little world at that point.
DEDICATION: This is dedicated to the memory of badtyler, a great writer and an even better friend.
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10] [ Part 11]
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm never drinking again," Olivia groaned as she rolled over and swatted at the alarm clock. The incessant chirpiness of whatever vacuous DJ was on that hour stopped, much to her relief. Her eyes creaked open. She hadn't thought to close the curtains when she'd stumbled into bed the night before and she regretted it now. Squinting against the light, her head pounding, she tried to look at the clock. The digits swam before her bleary eyes, mocking her.
She sat up and immediately felt her stomach shift. She held her breath and swallowed hard. Only when she was sure she wasn't going to be sick did she swing her legs out of bed and rise unsteadily to her feet.
It was only then that she realised that the pounding wasn't just in her head. Someone was hammering at the farmhouse door.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she yelled, holding her palms against her ears. Blearily she stumbled downstairs. She was quite proud of herself for managing it without stumbling over her own feet, which seemed to be made of lead. "Yeah, Jesus, you can stop pounding on the freakin' door, I'm right here!"
She flung the door open and couldn't stifle a groan at who she saw there. Frank came in without waiting to be invited. "Olivia," he said.
Olivia flopped onto the couch, holding her head in her hands. "Frank," she groaned. "What the hell? Why are you trying to bang my door down at stupid o'clock in the morning?"
Frank began to pace. Gradually the realisation that this was not typical Frank behaviour penetrated Olivia's foggy brain. "Is Doris here?" he said at last.
Olivia frowned angrily. "What? You burst in here at some ungodly fucking hour and that's what you ask me? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Frank's jaw clenched. "I saw you with her," he ground out.
Olivia shook her head. "What, at Towers? She's a friend...sort of, anyway...I'm allowed to have dinner with my friends."
Frank laughed bitterly. "Oh, this was a lot more than dinner."
Olivia threw her hands in the air. "You're delusional," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Frank's voice raised. "I saw you kissing her," he insisted.
"What?" Olivia shook her head. "Kissing her? What the-" Suddenly she broke off, her face turning even greener than it had been, if that was at all possible. "Oh," she said, horror creeping into her voice. "Oh my fucking fuck."
Frank shot her a look of pure disgust. "You sicken me," he ground out.
Olivia hid her face in her hands. "It's not what you think," she said. "Honest, Frank-"
"Honest?" he shouted incredulously. "Honest? How can you dare to even say that word? It means nothing to you, it never has."
Olivia's eyes flickered to the crucifix on the wall. This is my punishment for every sin I've ever committed, right? she asked it silently. Hungover, with a morally outraged Frank in my face? Do I really deserve this?
"That's not fair Frank-" she began, but Frank cut her off.
"No Olivia, you know what's not fair? The woman I love leaving me at the altar for a vile, pathetic excuse for a human being. A woman who can't even stay faithful to her for a week!"
"I wasn't being unfaithful!" Olivia yelled. "Jesus Christ, we're not even a couple yet."
Frank's lip curled. "Oh, how typical of you, Olivia," he said.
Olivia shook her head. "That's not what I meant," she said. "Look, Doris kissed me okay, not the other way around."
Frank threw his arms out wide. "You still got in the car with her, you couldn't have hated it that much."
Olivia stood up a little too quickly and swayed on her feet. Frank instinctively reached a hand out to steady her. Olivia shook him off. "You don't have any idea what you saw," she ground out. "And I'm done explaining myself to you."
Frank's face twisted into a mockery of a smile. "It's not me you have to explain yourself to," he said.
Olivia's heart dropped through the floor. "What?" Her voice was low and deadly.
Frank didn't seem to hear the danger in it. "I called Natalia last night. She was pretty interested in your little escapade." He looked her up and down one last time before heading to the door. "God, she deserves so much better than you," he said, a parting shot.
"Oh dear God..." Olivia whispered after he was gone. "Oh dear sweet fucking God."
In a daze she rushed back upstairs. Her cellphone was by the bed and she fumbled for it blindly. Natalia's phone rang twice before she picked up.
"Natalia-" she began breathlessly, but the other woman cut her off.
"Save it." Her voice was cold and hard. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say."
A choked sob rose up in Olivia's throat. "Natalia, baby, please-" she said, but it was too late. Natalia had hung up.
With trembling hands she dialled Natalia again, but it was no good. Voicemail.
A tight scream burst from her chest. She couldn't decide who she wanted to kill more - Doris or Frank. Maybe she'd just do both.
Right after she threw up.
* * * * * *
Natalia spent a day studiously ignoring Olivia's calls and a night tossing and turning and alternately punching the pillows and weeping into them, and before she knew it it was the morning of her father's funeral. Her mother looked at her strangely when she appeared in the living room in a neatly pressed pantsuit with bloodshot eyes, but she said nothing. She had enough on her mind.
It was a short drive to the church. Natalia slipped an arm around her mother's shoulder as they filed in, and was not rebuffed. Josephine slumped against her side, already weeping.
Natalia felt tears nipping at her own eyes, but not for her father. She had expected the feelings of grief that had overtaken her that first night in Chicago to come back, but they eluded her. Her tears were for herself and for the empty pit that had burst open inside her after Frank had called. Olivia, her mind murmured. How could you?
She sat through the first hymn in a daze, not trusting her voice to sing. The readings were similarly a blur to her, but she perked up her ears as the priest began to talk about her father, and what a wonderful man he had been, how unselfish, how devoted to his religion and his family.
The back of her neck turned red and she ground her teeth. A long dormant anger growled in the pit of her stomach, aching to be set free. Suddenly she felt her mother's warning hand on her arm. She turned and met her eyes. She expected to see anger there, perhaps scolding. Instead she saw pain and a quiet pleading and it was that, more than anything, that made her bite her tongue.
So they wanted to paint her father as some kind of saint. It didn't matter. They could believe what they wanted. She knew the truth. She knew what had happened eighteen years ago. She knew what kind of man her father really was.
"Sorry I'm late."
Natalia turned in surprise as she felt someone slide into the pew beside her and whisper into her ear. "Rafe!" she hissed, letting go of her mother's hand and turning to embrace him. "How? Why?"
Rafe ignored the murmurs of displeasure from some of the mourners around them. "Olivia," he said simply. "She told the parole board about your dad and they gave me a week's compassionate leave."
Natalia had focused on only one part of his statement. "Olivia?" she whispered. "Is she here?"
Rafe nodded. "She's staying at the Omni downtown," he said. "I told her to come to the church but she wouldn't."
Natalia shook her head in a daze. Olivia was here, in Chicago, just a short cab ride away. She could be there in twenty minutes.
The tinkle of a bell forced her mind back to reality. The priest was holding up the host, consecrating it. Thirty-four years of Catholic training made her bow her head. "My Lord and my God," she whispered, along with half the congregation. Rafe took her hand and squeezed.
Josephine was watching them with naked curiosity. Especially Rafe. She couldn't take her eyes off him. "Madre de Dios," she murmured. "You look just like him..."
Natalia looked at her mother, and then at Rafe. For the first time she saw her son through her mother's eyes and she gasped. He really did look like her father. Something around the eyes, and the nose. The way he frowned, like he was doing now.
She didn't have time to think about that. Before she knew it she was standing and reciting the Our Father, and then she was filing out past her father's coffin to receive communion. It was when she was on her way back to her seat that she made the decision, almost without thinking about it. She grabbed Rafe's hand. "Stay with your grandmother," she whispered into his ear. "I'll be back later."
She ignored the stares and muffled whispers as she bypassed her pew and headed for the door. She broke into a run when she got outside. "Taxi!" she yelled, as soon as she got to the kerb.
There had only been one thing on her mind since Rafe had told her Olivia was in town. The other woman was like a magnet to her, even now. There was no question of not seeing her.
It was time for them to have this out, once and for all.
TBC...