Otalia: Days of War, Nights of Hell (Chapter 4/?)
itle: Days of War, Nights of Hell 4/?
Author: Chrissie aka itsalovestory
Rating: Overall NC-17 (violence, sex, drugs, language, and general adult themes)
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Olivia/Natalia
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my imagination.
Spoilers: None, though I wish I had something to spoil.
Summary: Otalia learns that long after the battle ends, the war continues at home.
A/N: This is a story that will be angsty, dramatic, and at times sad. A major character will die and another will commit self-harm, but in the end Otalia will be alright. Set in the future, about 6 years after the flash-forward on Guiding Light...so Emma is 16, Francesca is 6, Rafe is 26, Ava is 30, Olivia is 46, and Natalia is 42.
A/N2: Hopefully this is a little less sad.
A/N3: Thanks to the lovely jcrimjustice for beta'ing this for me!
Previously: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3
Chapter 4: "The Ghost of You"- Sunday, January 15th, 2017
The next few days flew by in a blur as Olivia and Natalia juggled making arrangements for Rafe and trying to keep things as normal as possible for their daughters, especially Francesca. It was exhausting. The emotions and thoughts whirled around them, draining them body and soul.
People came and went from the farmhouse, offering condolences, offering help, offering hugs. Buzz and Lillian helped with cooking and basic cleaning. Blake, Daisy, and Ashlee helped with babysitting and errands. Doris, Josh, and Frank helped with stiff drinks, strong shoulders, and listening ears. Philip and Beth even offered to help pay for anything related to the funeral.
At first, Olivia declined her ex-husband's offer. But, she relented when he mentioned Emma and wanting to ease the pain for the loss of her brother and Olivia's son.
"Olivia, please, we want to do this for your family," Philip pleaded, placing his hand lightly on hers for comfort.
"Okay," she took a deep breath. "Okay." She looked up from their hands up into Philip's understanding eyes.
He smiled and stood from the chair in the kitchen. "I'll see you at the church tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay, Philip." She hugged the tall man tightly. "Thank you," she said softly into his ear.
"You're welcome. Now just try to relax." He pulled back from the hug and left.
I'll be able to relax when Natalia gets home. She went to the living room and joined her two daughters on the couch. They snuggled up together and watched a movie.
***
Natalia knelt in the creaky pew, the padding doing little to soften the hardness of the worn wood underneath. She looked around at the candles, and the statues, and the stained glass windows. The small Catholic church had been there for almost a hundred years.
Pulling out the old, purple rosary she had gotten from her Abulea on her Confirmation, Natalia bent down her head in prayer. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. One hundred years. She wondered how much could happen in that span of time. How many people had been born? She took a deep breath, saying the Lord's Prayer. Our Father, how many people have died? Is this Your will being done?
She recited Ten Hail Marys. Blessed are you, Mary, among women, but how blessed am I? My son is dead, and I might as well be, because I feel so damn empty inside. Pray for this sinner now and the hour of my own passing.
Continuing to pray, Natalia's small fingers moved over the smooth plastic. Her lips moved over the smooth words. She prayed and prayed, repetitive motions, repetitive sentences, as old as time, as timeless as the Lord.
How many other mothers had sat here, in this very seat, broken, wishing for their child to come home? How many other mothers cried late at night, finding no solace, no peace? How many?
Reaching the end of the rosary, Natalia whispered one last prayer into the quietness enveloping St. John the Baptist's. She let the words wash over her,
"Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy! Our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve, to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley, of tears. Turn, then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us; and after this our exile show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb Jesus; O clement, O loving, O sweet virgin Mary. Pray for us, O holy Mother of God. That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ."
As she finished, a final question popped into her weary mind. How could a mother be asked to sacrifice her only son? Natalia breathed, "Amen." She sat there for a moment in silent, somber reflection. Looking up at the Crucifix, her eyes fixated on Jesus Christ, a bloody and broken man. On the son of God sent to Mary. On the son of Mary sent to the save the whole world. Her sacrifice was for the sake of us. What is Rafe's sacrifice supposed to teach me?
Blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes, Natalia slid the rosary back into its tiny, velvet bag and then placed the bag into her purse. She put on her large, puffy coat to protect her body from the chill of winter. Placing her purse over her shoulder, she stood and left the church. She dipped her fingers into the Holy Water by the door, blessing herself with the hope of washing the pain away and beginning anew.
***
Everywhere she went on her way back to the farmhouse, Natalia seemed to be reminded of Rafe. In a song on the car radio. His favorite artist was Chingy. That was the first and only rap concert Natalia let him attend, one hot, sticky summer in Chicago.
Or in the mini-mart picking up snacks for the girls. His favorite snack was drops of spicy Tapatio splashed with lime juice on corn chips. He used to eat that every Sunday after Mass watching the Bulls or the Cubs play on tv in their dingy apartment, his tie undone and his hair messy.
Or even in the way that Francesca would call Natalia Mama like when the women tucked her in that night.
"Night Mommy. Night Mama," Francesca whispered, her little doe eyes fluttering shut. "Love you."
"Love you, too, Chessie." Both women leaned over and gave her a kiss on her forehead before they walked back down stairs.
Wordlessly, they sank down into the couch. Natalia grabbed the remote, turning the television on more for background noise than to watch. They sat there, together, quiet, lost in their thoughts.
On the side table, Olivia's phone buzzed. She answered, "Hello? Hey Ava. Yeah....Everyone deserves a chance to say goodbye. No, it starts at noon. Alright, see you then. Love you, Honey. Bye."
Staring at the TV, Natalia asked, "What did she want?"
"Just double checking what time the funeral started tomorrow, since she's flying into Springfield in the morning." Olivia kissed Natalia's brow and wrapped a comforting arm around her.
"Ahh...I'm glad she'll get to come..." she trailed off. "Olivia?"
"Yes, Honey."
Natalia cried softly, "It's like he's haunting me. His ghost is everywhere. Am I crazy?"
Olivia chuckled and pulled Natalia closer. She sighed softly, "Nah. I understand."
Natalia pulled back and looked up into Olivia's eyes. "Y-you do?"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes, because I see him in everything I do. I feel him in everything I do, everywhere I go. He's our son. He's not just gonna leave us, leave our hearts, even if he's not here with us."
Natalia nuzzled back into Olivia's arms and felt the tension leave her body. "Thank you. I love you."
"I love you, too. And, remember, tomorrow is another day. Another day to live."
Natalia hugged Olivia. "Tomorrow."
TBC...
Author: Chrissie aka itsalovestory
Rating: Overall NC-17 (violence, sex, drugs, language, and general adult themes)
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Olivia/Natalia
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my imagination.
Spoilers: None, though I wish I had something to spoil.
Summary: Otalia learns that long after the battle ends, the war continues at home.
A/N: This is a story that will be angsty, dramatic, and at times sad. A major character will die and another will commit self-harm, but in the end Otalia will be alright. Set in the future, about 6 years after the flash-forward on Guiding Light...so Emma is 16, Francesca is 6, Rafe is 26, Ava is 30, Olivia is 46, and Natalia is 42.
A/N2: Hopefully this is a little less sad.
A/N3: Thanks to the lovely jcrimjustice for beta'ing this for me!
Previously: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3
Chapter 4: "The Ghost of You"- Sunday, January 15th, 2017
The next few days flew by in a blur as Olivia and Natalia juggled making arrangements for Rafe and trying to keep things as normal as possible for their daughters, especially Francesca. It was exhausting. The emotions and thoughts whirled around them, draining them body and soul.
People came and went from the farmhouse, offering condolences, offering help, offering hugs. Buzz and Lillian helped with cooking and basic cleaning. Blake, Daisy, and Ashlee helped with babysitting and errands. Doris, Josh, and Frank helped with stiff drinks, strong shoulders, and listening ears. Philip and Beth even offered to help pay for anything related to the funeral.
At first, Olivia declined her ex-husband's offer. But, she relented when he mentioned Emma and wanting to ease the pain for the loss of her brother and Olivia's son.
"Olivia, please, we want to do this for your family," Philip pleaded, placing his hand lightly on hers for comfort.
"Okay," she took a deep breath. "Okay." She looked up from their hands up into Philip's understanding eyes.
He smiled and stood from the chair in the kitchen. "I'll see you at the church tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay, Philip." She hugged the tall man tightly. "Thank you," she said softly into his ear.
"You're welcome. Now just try to relax." He pulled back from the hug and left.
I'll be able to relax when Natalia gets home. She went to the living room and joined her two daughters on the couch. They snuggled up together and watched a movie.
***
Natalia knelt in the creaky pew, the padding doing little to soften the hardness of the worn wood underneath. She looked around at the candles, and the statues, and the stained glass windows. The small Catholic church had been there for almost a hundred years.
Pulling out the old, purple rosary she had gotten from her Abulea on her Confirmation, Natalia bent down her head in prayer. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. One hundred years. She wondered how much could happen in that span of time. How many people had been born? She took a deep breath, saying the Lord's Prayer. Our Father, how many people have died? Is this Your will being done?
She recited Ten Hail Marys. Blessed are you, Mary, among women, but how blessed am I? My son is dead, and I might as well be, because I feel so damn empty inside. Pray for this sinner now and the hour of my own passing.
Continuing to pray, Natalia's small fingers moved over the smooth plastic. Her lips moved over the smooth words. She prayed and prayed, repetitive motions, repetitive sentences, as old as time, as timeless as the Lord.
How many other mothers had sat here, in this very seat, broken, wishing for their child to come home? How many other mothers cried late at night, finding no solace, no peace? How many?
Reaching the end of the rosary, Natalia whispered one last prayer into the quietness enveloping St. John the Baptist's. She let the words wash over her,
"Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy! Our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve, to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley, of tears. Turn, then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us; and after this our exile show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb Jesus; O clement, O loving, O sweet virgin Mary. Pray for us, O holy Mother of God. That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ."
As she finished, a final question popped into her weary mind. How could a mother be asked to sacrifice her only son? Natalia breathed, "Amen." She sat there for a moment in silent, somber reflection. Looking up at the Crucifix, her eyes fixated on Jesus Christ, a bloody and broken man. On the son of God sent to Mary. On the son of Mary sent to the save the whole world. Her sacrifice was for the sake of us. What is Rafe's sacrifice supposed to teach me?
Blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes, Natalia slid the rosary back into its tiny, velvet bag and then placed the bag into her purse. She put on her large, puffy coat to protect her body from the chill of winter. Placing her purse over her shoulder, she stood and left the church. She dipped her fingers into the Holy Water by the door, blessing herself with the hope of washing the pain away and beginning anew.
***
Everywhere she went on her way back to the farmhouse, Natalia seemed to be reminded of Rafe. In a song on the car radio. His favorite artist was Chingy. That was the first and only rap concert Natalia let him attend, one hot, sticky summer in Chicago.
Or in the mini-mart picking up snacks for the girls. His favorite snack was drops of spicy Tapatio splashed with lime juice on corn chips. He used to eat that every Sunday after Mass watching the Bulls or the Cubs play on tv in their dingy apartment, his tie undone and his hair messy.
Or even in the way that Francesca would call Natalia Mama like when the women tucked her in that night.
"Night Mommy. Night Mama," Francesca whispered, her little doe eyes fluttering shut. "Love you."
"Love you, too, Chessie." Both women leaned over and gave her a kiss on her forehead before they walked back down stairs.
Wordlessly, they sank down into the couch. Natalia grabbed the remote, turning the television on more for background noise than to watch. They sat there, together, quiet, lost in their thoughts.
On the side table, Olivia's phone buzzed. She answered, "Hello? Hey Ava. Yeah....Everyone deserves a chance to say goodbye. No, it starts at noon. Alright, see you then. Love you, Honey. Bye."
Staring at the TV, Natalia asked, "What did she want?"
"Just double checking what time the funeral started tomorrow, since she's flying into Springfield in the morning." Olivia kissed Natalia's brow and wrapped a comforting arm around her.
"Ahh...I'm glad she'll get to come..." she trailed off. "Olivia?"
"Yes, Honey."
Natalia cried softly, "It's like he's haunting me. His ghost is everywhere. Am I crazy?"
Olivia chuckled and pulled Natalia closer. She sighed softly, "Nah. I understand."
Natalia pulled back and looked up into Olivia's eyes. "Y-you do?"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes, because I see him in everything I do. I feel him in everything I do, everywhere I go. He's our son. He's not just gonna leave us, leave our hearts, even if he's not here with us."
Natalia nuzzled back into Olivia's arms and felt the tension leave her body. "Thank you. I love you."
"I love you, too. And, remember, tomorrow is another day. Another day to live."
Natalia hugged Olivia. "Tomorrow."
TBC...