Passion Perfect

TITLE: Crossroads
AUTHOR: Wonko
FANDOM: Guiding Light
RATING: PG for this part
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.
A/N - There is quite a bit of religious chit chat in this chapter. Natalia really needs years to come to terms with all this stuff, but she's not getting it from me :-p So forgive me if this is a little dense, but we need it to move forward. You know, forward to bed resolution. I hope that no major understanding of Catholicism is required for this, but feel free to ask me anything if I haven't been clear.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22]

By the time Olivia got Emma settled into bed the girl was drooping and could barely keep her eyes open, but she still demanded her usual story before she'd consent to go to sleep.

"Okay honey, why don't you pick a book?" Olivia said with a small smile painting her lips.  It had been a good day, and she felt like indulging the little girl.

Emma shook her head.  "I want you to tell me a story about you," she said.  Olivia blinked.

"Me, honey?  Oh...I don't know.  I'm not very interesting."

"I think you're interesting," Emma said, the beginnings of a pout forming at the corners of her mouth.

Olivia's smile turned into a full fledged grin.  "Oh really," she said, digging her fingers into her daughter's sides and causing her to shriek with laughter.  "Well, I am very flattered."  She allowed her hands to still and pulled the still squirming girl close for a hug.  "So who else should be in this story?" she asked.  "Me and you and who else?"

Emma settled back against the pillows.  "Ava," she said.  "And Natalia and Rafe."

One perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised almost of its own accord as Olivia stroked Emma's hair back from her face.  "Them too, huh?" she said softly.  "Why's that?"

Emma looked up at her mother like she was one of the slow kids at school that the nasty kids made fun of.  "Because they're our family," she said.  "Duh."

I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, I refuse to cry, Olivia thought, brushing at her eyes anyway just in case any treacherous tears had escaped.  "Okay baby," she said, smiling radiantly.  "I'll tell you a story about...uhm...Olivia Spencer, the most notorious highwayman the kingdom ever saw, and Natalia Rivera her trusty sidekick who convinced her to give up her criminal ways and open a hotel instead.  Sound good?"

Emma giggled.  "Okay," she said.  "But Ava and Rafe and I have to be in it too."

"You will be," Olivia assured her, pulling her blankets up a little higher and tucking them under her chin.  "If you have a little patience, you'll see - everything will work out exactly as it should."

"Promise?" Emma mumbled, a little sleepily.

"Cross my heart," Olivia replied.  She paused for a moment, marvelling at just how much she loved this sweet, wonderful girl who for years she'd believed was the only thing she'd ever done right in her life.  Maybe that wasn't true anymore though.  Maybe being there for Natalia, in whatever guise Natalia needed her to be, was something else she could add to her very short list of successes.

"Okay," she said, with a final kiss to her daughter's forehead.  "So, once upon a time in a faraway land there lived a notorious highwayman named Olivia Spencer.  Not that many people knew her name, of course.  To most she was known only as The Purple Shadow..."

* * * * * *

Natalia alternated between sitting and pacing until the disapproving looks shot her way from the few people still waiting beside the confessional became too much.  Instead she dug around in her pockets for some loose change and dropped it into the donation box beside the candles at the Our Lady altar.  She lit a candle with a practised motion and then dropped to her knees on the soft leather before the statue.

"I would talk to my own mother," she began quietly.  "But I think we both know how that would turn out."  She smiled up at the statue, as if expecting it to acknowledge her joke with a wink and a wry chuckle.  "Still, you're supposed to be everyone's mother, aren't you?  So you ought to help me."

Bowing her head, Natalia racked her brains for all the Marian devotions she knew.  The Hail Mary was the most obvious, and she said ten of them, counting them off on her fingers in the absence of rosary beads.  She followed that up with the Memorare, voice cracking a little as she recited the words "sinful and sorrowful."  Hail Holy Queen was the next prayer that dropped from her mind to her lips, and by the time she reached the line: "Oh clement, oh loving, oh sweet Virgin Mary, amen," the priest had arrived and knelt down beside her.

"Good evening," he said softly.  Natalia turned her head slightly to face him.  He was older than she'd thought he'd be - probably pushing seventy, with a mess of fluffy white hair on his head and a set of very impressive eyebrows.  It wasn't the same priest who'd said mass; in fact, Natalia had never seen him before.

"Hello Father," she replied.

He nodded up at the statue.  "It's lovely, isn't it?" he asked, then went on without waiting for an answer.  "I often come in just to look at it, and say a prayer or two.  Would you like me to teach you one?"

Natalia blinked, then nodded.  "Okay," she said.

The priest nodded, then began to recite.  "I trust your might, your kindness, mother dear.  I do believe that you are always near.  Whatever happens, mother mild, I blindly trust in you and in your child.  You know the way for me, you know the time.  Into your hands I trustingly place mine.  Your plan is perfect, born of perfect love.  You know the way for me: that is enough."  He turned to her and extended his hand.  "My name's Joe Dunham.  And you are?"

"Uhm...Natalia Rivera," she said, shaking his outstretched hand.  "That's...that's a really nice prayer."

"Isn't it?" he said, turning his attention back to the statue.  "I find it helpful when I'm having the occasional crisis of confidence.  Sometimes you just have to stop worrying and trust, you know what I mean?"

Natalia's lips twitched.  "Is that supposed to be some kind of subtle hint?" she asked.  The priest shook his head.

"No," he said.  "Just an observation."  He smiled, and rubbed his hands together.  "Now," he continued, beginning to sound businesslike.  "I'd better start this conversation by reminding you that the official teaching of the Catholic church is that homosexual relationships are intrinsically disordered and run contrary to the natural law."

Natalia flushed, feeling his words like a punch to the solar plexus.  "I-I know that," she said.

The priest nodded.  "Good," he said.  "Good, good.  Well, now that's out of the way why don't you come with me and we can talk about what's really bothering you."

He stood, a little creakily, and began to walk slowly to the church door.  After a moment of stunned silence, Natalia followed him.

* * * * * *

Emma had dropped off to sleep sometime after hearing about The Purple Shadow's most amazing robbery to date, during which she'd stolen a whole carriage which just happened to have a very annoyed Natalia Rivera trapped inside it.  Olivia had slowed her words to a trickle, just to make sure the girl was really asleep, and then she'd given her one last kiss before heading back to her own half of the suite and fishing out her cellphone.

"Hi," she said when the phone was picked up after two rings.  "It's me, Olivia."

"Hey," Selina replied.  "How you doing?"

"I've been worse," Olivia said, with a slightly ironic smile.  "Listen, I just wanted to thank you for today.  I think it really did Natalia good to see...I don't know...how normal you guys are.  I think she had the idea that being with me meant throwing away all her skirts and getting a crew cut or something."

Selina chuckled softly.  "I don't know, I think Natalia could carry off a buzz cut."

Olivia closed her eyes and pictured a river of silky ebony hair; imagined running her hands through it, sifting it between her trembling fingertips.  "Over my dead body," she almost growled.  Selina laughed again.

"Down girl," she said.  "I'm not planning on attacking her with a razor or anything."

"Well, good."  Olivia opened her eyes.  The hotel room was mostly dark, with just a little amber light bleeding in from the street below.  She could hear the muted hiss of traffic, almost overwhelmed by the hum of the air conditioner and Selina's soft breathing on the other end of the line.

"I hope everything works out," Selina said quietly, and something in her tone made Olivia's heart clench.

"Did she say something to you?" she asked, sitting up straight and pulling a pillow against her chest.

Selina sighed deeply.  "She told me she loves you," she said.  "So, so much.  Just...just, hold on to that if things get a little rough, okay.  I'm not saying they will!" she added quickly, forestalling Olivia's interruption.  "Just...if they do.  Please, don't ever doubt how she feels."

Olivia breathed deeply through her nose.  "I won't," she said.  "I mean...I don't.  I trust her."

"Good."  There was a pause, and then Selina took a deep breath.  "I don't know if I should be telling you this," she said in a rush, "but I'm going to anyway.  Do you know that Natalia has never had good sex before?"

Olivia laughed.  "Uh...yeah, she said something about that," she said.

"I don't mean just enjoyable," Selina clarified, and Olivia could practically see her shaking her head.  "I mean she told me that she's always felt...I don't know...wrong or dirty afterwards.  Typical Catholic bullshit."

Olivia blinked.  "But...what about her husband?" she asked.  "What about Gus?"

"Gus?  Oh, you mean Nicky.  Yeah, with him too.  Look, the girl is messed up.  I don't know if it's just some ingrained religious shit, or if there's more to it but...I guess you should know.  You're the one who's gonna have to deal with it."

Olivia frowned at the shadows dotted round the empty hotel room, trying to digest this new information.  "Thanks," she breathed at last.

"Anytime," Selina replied.  "And let me know if you want us to accidentally bump into you guys again.  I can clear my schedule."

Olivia managed a short laugh.  Somehow she didn't think they'd get away with that one again.  Like Natalia had said once, she wasn't that naive.

* * * * * *

Father Joe fed Natalia two cups of coffee and several home made cookies without continuing the conversation they'd begun in the confessional.  Instead, he'd asked her to tell him about Olivia and Natalia had done so - haltingly at first, and then with growing confidence until at last the words were falling from her lips like rain and she was laughing.

"She's so funny," she said, chuckling at some half remembered joke.  "You know for so long I pretended she wasn't?  I perfected this stony faced look so she wouldn't know she'd won.  One time I actually came right out and said I don't think you're funny.  You'd think someone had kicked her puppy!"

The priest smiled.  "She sounds like a very interesting woman," he said.  Natalia nodded eagerly.

"She is," she said.  "She's fascinating.  Every time I think I've seen every possible side of her I uncover a dozen more.  She's...I don't know, she's just amazing."  Natalia drifted into silence, a faraway look in her eyes.

"That's what love is though, isn't it?" the priest remarked quietly.  "The eternal mystery of the other.  And the quest to know someone so deeply that they become a part of you."

Natalia's eyes fluttered closed.  "She's already a part of me," she said.  "I'm not sure I know where she stops and I begin."

Her eyes snapped open as she felt a warm hand land on hers.  "Looks like you begin here," Father Joe said.  "And she's somewhere else."

Natalia flushed a deep crimson.  "Okay, so that was dumb," she allowed.  "But...what I mean is that things just...make more sense when I'm with her.  Normal things, like looking after her daughter or making sandwiches or eating dinner.  I've never felt..."  She shrugged.  "At home," she said at last.  "When I'm with her I feel at home."

The priest busied himself pouring a third cup of coffee for them both, adding cream and three sugars to his own.  "So what's the problem?" he asked.  "Sounds like you know everything you need to know."

Natalia raised her eyebrows.  "What's wrong?" she asked incredulously.  "Well, how about the whole intrinsically disordered thing you were telling me about earlier?  Can we start there?"

"Certainly."  The priest sat back in his chair, nibbling on a cookie and sipping his coffee.  "Firstly, let me first ask you if you know what disordered means?"

"A disorder is an illness-" Natalia began, but the priest cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"No," he said.  "Being gay is not a disease.  Everyone knows that.  Disordered, in this context, simply means 'against the natural order'."  He pushed the plate of cookies over to her, and shrugged when she refused.  "But let me ask you this - if something is unnatural, doesn't it follow that it should be completely absent from the natural world?"

Natalia tilted her head to one side.  "Yes, I suppose so," she agreed.

The priest nodded.  "You know what people used to say? Animals don't engage in homosexual acts, that proves it's unnatural!  And then when we discovered that a lot of animals actually do exhibit homosexual behaviour those same people started saying we're better than animals!  We should be above animalistic behaviour!  Something of a logical minefield that one.  Do we take our cues from animal behaviour or not?  Apparently, it depends on which agenda you're trying to push."

Natalia began to rub her temples with her fingertips.  "The Bible says-" she began, but again the priest interrupted her.

"Oh yes, please tell this old man with a doctorate in theology what the Bible says," he muttered.  "May I remind you my dear that the Bible is a library of books, not just one.  It contains histories and poetry and letters and narratives and laws - and all of them had a specific audience in mind.  As we are not that audience, it's up to us to interpret what is still relevant."

Natalia shook her head in confusion.  "Are you saying you can just pick and choose what to believe?" she asked.

"No, not at all," Father Joe said.  "I'm merely suggesting that you should listen to what God is trying to tell you, in all the ways he's trying to tell you it.  The church teaches that there are three ways that God speaks to us.  Do you know what they are?"

Natalia brightened, delighted to have been asked a question she actually knew the answer to.  "Yes, I do know this," she said.  "The scriptures, the teaching office of the church, and individual prayer."

"Otherwise known as the conscience," he agreed, taking another deep sip of his coffee.  "The second Vatican Council reaffirmed the importance of the conscience in matters of morality.  Think about it, my dear.  The scriptures were originally written thousands of years ago.  They were passed on by word of mouth for generations, and then they were written down and translated, and re-translated countless times.  The church bases its teachings on those scriptures, and on the thoughts of various holy men - and they were mostly men, of course.  When I talk to God in the silence of my own heart - that's the only way I know it's just me and him.  No translations, no interpretations, no intermediaries.  Do you ever feel like that?"

Natalia sat back and took a deep breath.  "I know all this," she said softly.  "I've read the Bible, cover to cover, I've read interpretations, I've read books on theology."  She blushed briefly, remembering some of the other books she'd read to prepare herself for the idea of being with Olivia.  The kind of books that had arrived in the house in plain brown paper and she'd read with a torch under her blankets, even though there was no-one around.  "I really thought I'd made my peace with everything," she continued, dragging her mind back to the matter at hand.  "I mean, I almost married a man a few weeks ago, just to run from these feelings.  But even if I had gone through with it, it wouldn't have been right, would it?   Even if a priest had performed the ceremony, it still wouldn't have been holy.  Because I don't love him."

The priest nodded carefully.  "That's right," he said.  "The sacrament of matrimony is more than just words.  It's love."

Natalia closed her eyes.  "Right, it's all about love.  Everything is about love.  God is love, right, that's what I kept telling myself.  And so I thought and I prayed and I really believed that love was what mattered.  Until yesterday."

Father Joe leaned forward and grasped her hands.  "What?" he asked gently.  "What happened?"

Natalia swallowed hard.  "I-" she began, then had to stop to clear her throat.  "We...well, Olivia and I...were together.  You know.  And it was..."  She sighed.  "I don't know what it was.  I just know it wasn't right.  I mean, if love is what matters then it should have been beautiful, right?  Because I love her so much I sometimes forget to breathe when I'm with her.  So why...why wasn't it?  I don't understand why it wasn't right.  Maybe God's trying to tell me it is a sin after all?"

For long moments neither of them spoke.  Natalia pulled her hands from the priest's and took a sip of her now cold coffee, wincing at the bitter taste.

"When did your father die?" the priest asked suddenly.

Natalia blinked.  "Uh...just over a week ago," she said.  "What does that have to do with-"

"I'm trying to establish your emotional state, my dear," he said, as if it should have been obvious.  "How were things between you and Olivia when you met yesterday?  Any issues or problems?"

Natalia blushed.  "Well...someone from home had told me they saw her with another woman," she admitted.  "But it was nothing like that," she rushed to assure him.  "I mean, I know now she didn't do anything wrong."

"But you were angry with her?" he asked.  Natalia nodded.

"At first," she admitted.  "Not now."

Father Joe leaned back in his chair and regarded her with a dumbfounded expression.  "What?" she said, squirming a little uncomfortably in her seat.

"Are you seriously asking me," he began incredulously, "why a sexual encounter fuelled by grief, anger and jealousy wasn't beautiful?"

A blush spread from Natalia's chest to the tips of her ears.  "I just mean-"

"For God's sake, woman," he muttered, interrupting her.  "Surely you can see that the motivations behind an act are just as important as the act itself!  If you feel like you've committed a sin, maybe the sin is using sex as an act of possession rather than an expression of love!"

He stood suddenly, the chair scraping across the floor.  "Father, what are you doing?" she asked.  He had stalked over to a bookshelf and was rifling through it.

"Looking for...aha, looking for this," he exclaimed, pulling a slim volume from the shelf.  "The Pope's first encyclical, one of the best things ever written about love - physical and otherwise."  He thrust it into her hands.  "Read it."

She glanced down at the copy of Deus Caritas Est he'd forced upon her.  It looked well thumbed.  She looked up again, catching his eyes.  "I will," she promised.  "Father, what you said about an act of possession..."

He sat down again.  "You said it yourself my dear - you were jealous and angry, weren't you?  Couldn't you have been - consciously or otherwise - claiming her rather than loving her?"

Natalia cast her mind back, flushing as she remembered marking Olivia's perfect skin, growling you're mine, the thrill that had rushed through her at Olivia's answering I'm yours  Yes, that was exactly what it had been about.  Nothing subconscious about it.  "Yes..." she said slowly.  "Yes, I was."

"Pure eros," he said, shaking his head.  "Possession.  Taking, rather than giving.  You'll understand when you read the letter."

Natalia slid the priest's gift into her purse with shining eyes.  "All right," she said.

Father Joe leaned forward and grabbed her hand again.  "Don't be afraid," he said gently.  "Have faith.  And if you feel the need to repent something, you know where I am.  Just make sure you're repenting the right thing, all right?"

Natalia nodded.  "I'll try, Father," she said.

The priest smiled.  "That's all anyone can ask."

It was nearly eleven by the time she got back to her mother's apartment.  It was dark, and she could hear the sounds of her mother's regular breathing coming from her room and the gurgle of Rafe's snores from the living room.  After a quick glance at her son to make sure all was well, she escaped into her own room, with the pastel pink walls and the New Kids on the Block posters from another life.  She slipped the book from her purse and opened it.

There was a long night ahead of her.

TBC...

A/N - Father Joe's prayer doesn't have a name that I'm aware of, but it's popular in the Schoenstatt movement, which is a Marian Apostolate. I just used it because I really like it.