Passion Perfect

Title: Life and Breath
Author: Pink Rabbit Productions
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Olivia/Natalia
Part: 15
Date: 20 July, 2009
Rating: Personally, I'd call it an R, but some might consider it NC-17 at some point.
Disclaimer: The characters and situations belong to other folks far wealthier, more important (or at least with better lawyers), and hopefully more charitable and kinder than I. They include, but are not necessarily limited to CBS, Proctor and Gamble, and Telenext. The actual arrangement of words, however, remains my own as do any original characters. Meanwhile, there is likely to be all female romantic and sexual activity ahead, so if this is likely to get you, me, or anybody else arrested should you take a gander, please move along. Also, if you find that sort of thing offensive, you really probably shouldn't hang around anyplace I'm posting. Just sayin'....
Archiving: The Pink Rabbit Consortium
Spoilers: Some early scenes definitely, plus anything through the spa trip is fair game.
Timeline: Unlike some folks, I don't have an exact scene where this one takes off. However, it's definitely set after the spa trip, but before Rafe's release from the halfway house. Oh, and it's after Natalia admits she's in love with Olivia to Father Ray.
Earlier Parts: | Part 1 (Prologue) | 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 |





"You look like a man who could use a drink."

Frank tensed, then looked over his shoulder, surprised to see Jim Barron standing there, a small silver flask held out in one hand as an alcoholic offering. Normally, it was too early in the day for Frank's tastes, but he took the flask anyway and took a long hit, the whisky just as harsh on his mouth and throat as it had been the night before. "I'm surprised to see you here," he said through a cough after he finished swallowing.

Barron shrugged. "I was going to attend mass...but it looked like maybe you were doing something more important."

"Yeah," Frank exhaled, ignoring the defeat knotting up his guts. Suddenly, he looked over at the other man. He needed to talk and Barron was a good listener. "I spoke to Emma...Olivia's daughter." His head was suddenly throbbing with barely controlled agony, while his stomach bucked and rolled. Just the whiskey, he tried to tell himself, even though he knew that wasn't it at all. It was the emotional torment inflicted by the two women. It was nearly killing him. "She said they're getting married," he told the other man in a dead voice. Barron didn't respond and Frank looked over.

The other man was standing so still he might have been one more statue in the garden. His head was down, hands clasped together in front of him. Suddenly, he blinked and looked up, the strange stillness slipping away in an instant. "Let's get the hell out of here," he said abruptly.

Frank couldn't think of any reason to stay, so he nodded, following the other man as he headed away toward the parking lot.



Olivia shook herself gently, snapping her head upright when it threatened to bob sleepily to one side as the liturgy droned on.

Early morning mass. Dear Lord, could anything be more perfectly designed to torment her? Her two least favorite things combined into one, altogether annoying package. Add in uncomfortable pews, air conditioning in dire need of replacement, a priest whose gaze narrowed with dislike every time it swung her way, plus a few less than pleasant memories of her mother's after-church tirades from her youth and—

Suddenly Natalia glanced her way, brown eyes meeting green as electricity sparked between them and full lips tipped upward in a private smile.

And it was worth all that and a dozen more miseries if she could just get another of those smiles.

She was still lost in the shared moment when she felt Emma burrow a little deeper under her arm to press closer against her side. A hint of a frown creased her brow as she noted the clinginess. Possibly just the aftermath of the earlier resentment storm, but still a little worrisome. She brushed her hand over a small forehead. Still no sign of a fever.

Sitting on Emma's other side from Olivia, Natalia's gaze was drawn down to the girl. She rested one hand on a narrow shoulder, half expecting the child to twitch out from under her touch the way she had earlier, but Emma made no effort to pull away, instead reaching up and back to curl her fingers around Natalia's hand. Scooting a little closer, she felt her arm brush Olivia's and shared another look with the other woman, the quiet longing stretching out between them.

So many times she'd wanted this kind of closeness and sense of family when Rafe was growing up, to have someone to sit with or who was there when he was sick and she was scared. To find it now and with this woman sometimes seemed like an utter impossibility.

But one look into sea-green eyes and everything seemed so right. She was loved and safe and a part of something greater than herself—a family.

And perhaps others saw it as well because her trepidation over how they might be received had proven pointless. The few people who seemed to have some idea of the relationship—mostly parents from Emma's school—had made an effort to be extra welcoming, and no one else seemed to care. They were too busy with their own lives and traumas to pay any attention to hers.

The only exception was Father Ray. He'd made his disapproval clear, though he'd kept it private, quietly arguing scripture on the church steps until she'd backed him into a corner and made it clear that he could have whatever opinion he wanted and so could the church. She knew what she felt and it was no sin. And if Olivia and Emma weren't welcome in her church, neither was she.

He hadn't liked it—anger, not forgiveness, had lurked in his eyes—but he'd backed down, leaving the argument behind to speak to someone else.

Which was fine by her. She wasn't feeling terribly charitable toward the priest at that point.

A gentle hand just barely brushed her hip, drawing her attention down and away from her thoughts, the caress coming as a side effect of Olivia wrapping her arm a little more firmly around Emma.

Green eyes snapped up and their eyes met again. Olivia didn't have to say a word, but Natalia could see the love there. She could only hope the other woman saw her own emotions as clearly.

A long moment passed and then Natalia glanced around self consciously, wondering if anyone had seen the brief, silent exchange, but the only person who appeared to have noticed was Evelyn Fielding. She was looking on where she sat next to Olivia, the sort of sweetly wry smile on her face that anyone might have worn upon seeing a happy pair of young lovers.

Warmed by that quiet acknowledgment, Natalia settled her free hand over Olivia's. She'd always believed that god was love and by that metric, there was nothing Ray Santos could give her that she didn't already have in far greater measure. She tightened her hold on Olivia's hand as she felt a certain inner peace slip through her. This was what mattered.

That thought uppermost in her mind, she barely noticed the rest of the service, going through the motions as needed, but otherwise uninvolved, her attention reserved for her family.

And when it was over, she didn't bother to cast even the briefest gaze toward Father Ray.

Instead, Natalia patted Emma's back gently as the girl blinked sleepily and stretched, having dozed her way through the latter part of the service, then reached over and caught Olivia's hand in her own. As if sensing the daggers aimed her direction, she finally glanced over and noted Father Ray speaking to another parishioner. He glared at her, but she tightened her hold on Olivia's hand, and stared back, a quiet kind of defiance in her eyes.

His gaze broke first.

"That's the way to do it, my dear," Evelyn said, her tone mild, though her eyes sparked and danced. "Show no fear." She looked back and forth between the two women. "You have a lovely family...worth fighting for." She directed a firm look Olivia's way. "And I hope we see you all here more often...even if Father Stick-in-the-Mud can't see fit to get his head out of..." she paused as she glanced at Emma and realized her original comment wasn't entirely appropriate. "...the fourteenth century."

Natalia blushed, not so far along as to be comfortable with mocking a priest, but Olivia couldn't contain a tiny chuckle. "Thank you," she said after a moment, her voice low and intense, signaling that she understood what the older woman's acceptance bought them. Ray Santos had and would make his disapproval known as the situation went along. Olivia didn't give a damn, but Natalia did and this woman's support might well buy her an enormously easier time of it. "Your support is appreciated, even by a faithless soul like me."

"Faithless?" the older woman questioned politely as she peered at Olivia. "Of course you have faith, my dear. Just because it doesn't happen to be in god doesn't mean you don't have it." She nodded toward Emma and Natalia. "You have faith in your daughter...in Ms. Rivera...in your love for them." She smiled gently. "I can't think of anything better...nor do I think that any reasonable god would find fault with it."

Her throat knotted with emotion, Olivia had no ready response, but she held tight to the hand bound to her own even as she braced her other hand across her daughter's chest, pulling the small body tight against her side.

"As for you, Ms. Rivera, love is a faith of its own...far more holy than what most priests espouse, I think." Her gaze swung to touch on the priest who was now studiously avoiding them. Generally, she wasn't one to lecture, but these two young people needed to understand this was nothing new. "Fifty years ago when I married Jack, my priest came unglued because he was a Methodist," she mused out loud. "When my oldest son got married, it was the fact that his wife-to-be was Jewish that set the priest off...and when my daughter divorced and remarried, there was yet another firestorm..." Her lips twisted into a wry smirk. "Right now, you and my grandson and a host of other good souls are stuck dealing with the church's current bigotry...but it will pass and fifty years from now, they'll doubtless have an all new group responsible for the imminent downfall of Western Civilization." She shrugged philosophically. "Meanwhile, you've been given a gift very few people are lucky enough to receive. Don't squander it."

"I won't," Natalia whispered, slightly ashamed of the way she'd once tried to run away from her feelings.

Not entirely understanding the complex matters going on overhead, Emma nevertheless noted the pause in adult discussions as her gaze went back and forth between the players. It sounded like the serious stuff was over, which meant it was time for more important matters. "So are we gonna go to Chuckles now?" she asked, her earlier fears faded by the boredom of mass and the normalcy of the surrounding crowd. Whoever the man from the forest was, he couldn't touch them in church, and maybe he was just some cop friend of Frank's and she was letting her imagination get away from her the way her mother and Jane occasionally noted she was prone to do.

Grinning, Olivia ruffled her daughter's hair, though the look she directed at Natalia reflected her uncertainty. "Well, Jellybean—" she began, but Natalia interrupted.

"We are indeed," the younger woman insisted, opting to ignore any problems, concerns, or rudeness. The weekend had been so good so far that she wanted to keep things upbeat. She grinned at Emma, relieved when she got a smile in return. Maybe not her broadest or most relaxed, but definitely a smile.

"Well, you have a wonderful time, Emma," Evelyn Fielding said as she leaned over to smile at the girl, then grinned at the two adults flanking her. "And if I'm recalling the place correctly from when my grandchildren were in town...I hope you two have plenty of Advil on hand..."



"I called in every marker in Chicago that I could think of...and nothing," Jim Barron's voice echoed faintly inside Frank's head. "As far as I can tell, Raphael Rivera didn't exist until he showed up in juvie with your niece. No previous record, no school records, nothing...."

Frank massaged his temple as he felt his stomach duck and roll. "The little bastard used Daisy as a way in," he muttered to himself as he tried not to think about the glimpse he'd gotten of Natalia at the church, holding hands with Olivia, looking so damned happy. It was all just one more lie, like how she'd wanted and loved him, like Rafe and Daisy, like everything about her.

"Can't guarantee it," the other man said softly, "could just be a clerical error of some kind—"

"Seems like there are a hell of a lot of those lately," Frank ground out, thinking of all the things that individually could be explained away that way, but cumulatively, it all added up. Yeah, a good defense attorney could destroy piece by piece in court, but he'd seen enough to be certain he wasn't seeing shapes in shadows. There really was a monster in the night. ,

"Yeah," the other man exhaled, his tone sympathetic. He was silent for a long moment. "My captain is emailing me a confirmation of what all he checked out. I'll forward it to you as soon as I pick it up."

"Thanks."

"Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Frank ran a hand through his hair. "Make it all not true," he pleaded quietly.

"I wish I could," Barron sympathized.

A muscle worked along the line of Frank's jaw as his stomach did another barrel roll and he had to fight to keep his breakfast down. "I wish you could too," he mourned, then reminded himself bitterly that you couldn't undo reality or create it from whole cloth either. Natalia was what she was—which apparently was really a con artist named Emily Sotero. Or perhaps more correctly, she was a con artist who sometimes used the name Emily Sotero. Straightening his shoulders, he consciously hardened his heart against the thought of warm eyes and soft curves. "But you can't...nobody can." He took a deep breath and let it out in an effort to clear his head and start thinking the way a liar and cheat would if cornered. "But you're right about one thing...I need to make sure she has no avenue of escape before I..." he trailed off as his throat pulled taut. He needed to be calm, he reminded himself, think it through logically. "I need to talk to Alan Spaulding," he explained when he could speak again. "Find out if there was a DNA test...and make sure she can't run to him when things start to come out."

"You think that's a possibility?" Barron questioned.

"He wanted her before...enough to use Olivia to try and break her and Gus up." He thought of all the ways Alan Spaulding had gotten women in the past...and the women he'd been willing to get. "Yeah, he'd make that trade...unless he thought she'd made a fool of him...then he'd be out for blood. Olivia always said Alan's weakness was his ego."

"Really?" Barron drawled. "Well, you'd know more about that than I would, but if you think it would work..."

"Yeah, it could," Frank mused aloud. "Tweak his ego right...and he'll jump any direction we want..."