Fandom - Guiding Light
Pairing - Olivia/Natalia (eventually...)
Warnings and/or Spoilers - Not a single spoiler. This is an AU (Alternative Universe) fic, which means the names, looks and some of facts are the same but the story will veer off into new places.
Summary - Olivia Spencer is falling apart and takes an undercover case in order to ignore her pain. But along with drugs and crooked cops and an unexpected ally, she finds a reason to finally heal and live again. Multi-chapter thing.
Rating - PG currently, will be hard-R in later chapters
Frank Cooper is a by-the-book kind of guy, dull brown suit and homespun wisdom. He looks like every other detective in the world. He speaks with edges of dissatisfaction lacing his words, looking from the lengthy file in his hands and then back to Olivia. He rattles off arrests and names and dates with a bored efficiency.
“You know it is someone on the inside, right?” Olivia interrupts him. Frank Cooper fixes her with a cold stare.
“We don’t know that. Not yet.”
“It is too much of a coincidence. You get to a hub and they are gone, leaving nothing but empty crates. Someone is tipping them off.”
“We don’t know that. Leave that to me.”
Guess he thinks that is the end of the discussion. Idiot.
“Who knows I am here besides my guys?”
“Officer Mallet and myself.” Frank motions to the man at the far desk.
“And no one else?” Olivia watches the man for any sign of a lie, because she is no fool. Someone at this station is giving a heads-up to who they are supposed to catch and, for all Olivia knows, it could be Frank Cooper. It could be Officer Mallet.
It could be both of them.
“So, what should we call you?” Frank asks as he hands over a copy of the current case report.
“You will follow Mallet to a hotel in downtown, The Beacon, for you to stay at. He’ll have his story of giving you directions and you needing a place to stay the night.”
Frank also gives her a slip of paper with a phone number on it.
“This is my personal pager. Don’t lose it. And don’t tell us any of your other information as far as your cover, that way it all stays safe.”
The last bit is said with a little sarcasm and Olivia grins broadly.
“Don’t you worry about my safety, Detective Cooper.”
Worry about your own safety if I find out you are involved in any of this.
/ / /
The Beacon has one-hundred and twenty-four rooms. It is accented with dark wood, mahogany most likely, and cream tones. Plush carpets and soft beds, all the pleasures for a traveler.
But is just a room to Olivia. Just a place where she will live for the foreseeable future, pretending to be someone she is not.
It is two-thirty a.m. when Officer Mallet pulls away from the parking lot. It is two-thirty five when Olivia gets her passkey and tells her first lie to the desk clerk. Some fake driver’s license and some bullshit story about being in the hotel business, wanting to stay in an upscale establishment and get some ideas… maybe talk to the owner…
They kiss her ass after that, mints and extra towels and room service at this ungodly hour of the morning.
She asks for coffee and it arrives in record time.
Might as well get jacked up and read on this file.
She spends hours going over every fact, every word and detail getting lodged in her brain.
She turns it all over, again and again, trying to find the missing piece.
Ten years ago, Springfield was a relatively clean place. Job security was at an all-time high and crime was down.
A Norman Rockwell kind of place. Full of happy families and never a bad thing. The big deal is a cat up in a tree.
But with the declining economy and the rising cost of living, some people turned to theft. Cars started getting stolen. Some minor offenses involving marijuana and the like, nothing that important.
Then, a year ago, a sudden influx of heroin busts happened and the major dealers were not caught.
They just arrested flunkies who would rather get high than tell the truth.
They do time and get back out, go back to their old ways and are back on the streets.
Olivia had seen this before, a million times before. She might as well go tell the tide to turn around.
In her position, her badge hinders as much as it helps.
She can only go so far, only help so much… before she hits the wall and it is out of her hands.
She leans her head back against the headboard and stares out.
I used to get a rush out of all this. I used to crave the sensation of tracking some fucking lowlife, finding them and ruining them. It used to help. It used to make everything… just feel better…
Her thoughts have been turning back to the past so much recently, tripping over the dangerous moments that have made up her life. The moments that shaped her and brought her to this hotel tonight, the things that messed her up and made her stronger – one in the same.
Without her consent, the tears fall down her face and all Olivia wants is to hear her daughter’s voice, to see her bright smile and hold her close.
The file falls to the floor and she doesn’t bother to pick it up.
/ / /
There is a knock at the door and it jerks Olivia from an uneasy sleep.
She has no time to smooth out the wrinkles from her slept-in clothing, no time to look put-together or cheerful. She opens the door to the smiling face of some hotel employee.
“A complimentary breakfast, Ms. Martin.” The woman says pleasantly enough, breezing in and setting a tray on the table. Olivia watches her pour the juice and the coffee and mumbles some answer when the woman asks about sugar and milk.
Olivia’s head is screaming to get this maid or waitress or whatever the lady is out of the room.
It is too early for this much talking. And sunlight. And lots of things.
But her mouth doesn’t seem to want to work, not just yet. At least, not until the woman looks around sees the file on the floor.
“I’ll get this up for you and tidy things before I go.” The woman says with a smile.
Olivia wakes up fully then and darts toward the fallen papers.
They reach out for it simultaneously, hands crashing into one another.
Olivia plasters on a fake sheepish grin. The woman looks at her with an expression of confusion.
“You don’t have to clean up after me. Really.” Olivia says, as the smile she is holding almost pulls something in her jaw. She hopes it doesn’t look as strained as it feels.
The look of confusion is briefly replaced with a hint of distrust, fleeting in those…
Brown eyes. She has brown eyes.
But that insight is gone quickly enough as the woman stands up. Olivia follows suit, with the file secure in her hands.
“I’ll leave you to your breakfast then, Ms. Martin.” The woman smiles again, this time a more guarded version and Olivia watches her walk out of the room, jet-black ponytail fluttering as the woman turns and shuts the door.
Olivia looks at the clock and decides to eat a little before she goes out and explores.
Before I go out there and become Olivia Martin, hotelier and blank slate.
/ / /