Disclaimer: Characters belong to Aaron Spelling, E. Duke Vincent, Gary Tomlin, NBC, et al and are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment purposes.
Rating: PG 14
Genre: Drama
Spoilers: The first year of the show, but I did fudge canon…just a little.
Summary: Olivia is visited by Christmas ghosts after Caitlin's "death".
A/N: All of my other stories will be on temporary hiatus until 2009.
Chapter 1: "Christmas Eve"
Caitlin was dead, to begin with.
An overwhelming tide of sorrow coursed through Olivia as she pulled the curtains closed. A glorious sunset cast across the sky, luscious shades of orange, yellow and red coming together. She turned away from the window, wrapping her arms around herself. It held little appeal now. Nothing did.
Not anymore.
She sank to the bed, shivering in the shadowy room. Nothing was as it should be. Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked through them, her throat tight. Her daughter, her beautiful young daughter, was dead. Her sparkling blue eyes dim and her cheerful laugh silenced forever.
The baby in her womb kicked, mourning the loss of his older sister. Sobs threatened to overtake her and she gasped, pressing her hand to her stomach. Caitlin should be here with her now, sharing the joy of feeling their children kick. Her weeping filled the silence, echoing the cry of the broken woman that she was. She looked up blindly, sucking air into her tortured lungs. Caitlin was dead because of her.
Olivia shook her head sadly, leaning back to the bed. She turned onto her side, bringing her hands to her face. Dead by my hand, she thought, bringing on more ferocious tears. She pressed her face into the pillow, hiding from the world as she cried into the silk. Her sobs rang in the quiet room, an odd counterpoint to the festive carols that echoed from downstairs.
A gentle knock disturbed her and she wiped her face, struggling to sit up as she called out, "What?"
The door opened slowly and Bette's head poked through the opening. "How are you feeling, Toots?"
She shrugged, sitting back in the bed as she pulled a quilt to her chest. "Fine."
Bette frowned, coming into the room with a loaded tray. "I thought that you might be feeling- well, 'fine' as you put it." She smiled at her own joke and sat on the edge of the bed, resting the tray on Olivia's lap. "Ok, we've got hot chocolate, topped off with extra fluffy marshmallows. There's also a considerably large plate of fresh-baked sugar cookies. Now, I'm more than willing-"
"Bette."
"-to let you have all the peppermint bark, but-"
Olivia's blood boiled in her veins, her friend's too cheerful chatter grating on her nerves. She looked up slowly, a shrill ring echoing in her ears. It was too much. "Bette!" she exploded, causing her friend to look up with a start. "Stop!"
"Olivia-"
"No! No! No!" She pushed the tray back to Bette and turned away. "I don't want the Christmas cookies. I don't want the hot chocolate. I don't want the bloody peppermint bark, whatever that is." She watched Bette's face turn, her lips purse.
"Fine. What do you want?"
"Nothing," she sulked. She turned away, leaning back against the cushioned headboard. "I just want to be left alone."
Bette inhaled sharply and grabbed the tray, jerking it back to her. "Fine." She stomped to the door, the tray against her chest. "You know, Olivia?" She glanced over her shoulder, sparing Olivia a biting glance. "I know you're upset about Caitlin, but that's no excuse to turn into Scrooge."
Olivia listened to her leave, slamming the door behind her. She flinched at the sound, closing her eyes gently. She didn't want to be cheered up. She didn't want to feel better or happy. She didn't want to celebrate Christmas. She just wanted to sit in her room, her quiet room and be alone. She sighed tiredly and winced at a particularly strong jab from the baby. What about Daddy, the kick seemed to ask.
Yes, what about Gregory?
She opened her eyes slowly, lowering her hand as she thought of her husband. He was alone in their home, drowning in the vast emptiness. How very like them to scatter, fleeing from the painful truth to wallow in their own pain. Except this time, he didn't. He wanted her near him, wanted her home. And she pushed him away. She couldn't look at him without remembering all the other Christmases they shared, the ones where Caitlin was alive.
She couldn't look at him with out being forcibly reminded that it was their fault she wasn't here with them.
It was too much to bear.
She sighed, her chin quivering as a fresh cascade of tears rolled down her cheeks. Christmas was dead to her now, as dead as her beautiful daughter. She gripped the pillow to her, letting her spent eyes close. Her chest heaved as she wished for sleep and an end to the day.
Anything that would ease the suffocating guilt that consumed her.
Shaking.
Violent shaking.
Olivia woke with a start, her eyes crusted shut with dry tears. The bed, the entire room, was throbbing uncontrollably. A ferocious roar erupted and she covered her ears, wincing at the penetrating noise. It invaded every ounce of her, from her head to her toes. She pushed herself up, kneeling in the middle of the bed as she looked blindly around the room.
Her first thought was that it was an earthquake. Tears of panic sprang to her eyes, the pictures flapping haphazardly against the walls. The light on the night table flickered, the doors to the closet slamming open and closed. Her brow furrowed as she watched the closet, her hands falling slowly from her ears.
"This is no earthquake," she murmured to herself, pressing her hand to her stomach. The baby kicked, in seeming agreement with his mother.
A phantom gust swept through the room, stirring her hair. She turned to the balcony, the curtains pulled tight and knowing the doors to be locked. She scrambled to the edge of the bed, prepared to slide off when heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs. Her eyes widened, her mouth gaping as she stared at the bedroom door. Feet clomped up the stairs, one after the other.
"Bette!" she screamed, backing into the corner of the bedroom. "Bette, help! Someone's in the house!"
The steps became louder, coming down the hall.
To her bedroom.
"Oh, God," she cried, the steps ceasing just outside her bedroom door. Her hands anxiously played with her pearl necklace, as she turned her face away from the door.
"Olivia."
The voice was unmistakable, ringing like a bell in the cacophony of the shaking room and ghostly roar. She turned, looking around the room. It was empty except for her. But she heard him. With a tentative step, she moved away from the corner where she sought sanctuary. "Del?" she whispered as the room stilled suddenly.
The wind died, the deafening roar dropping to a hush. She smoothed her hair down, turning in a circle. "Del?" she repeated, urgently.
A shimmering mist floated through the bedroom door, swirling together. And there he was. Olivia gasped, covering her mouth as she watched Del moved through the silence to her. His eyes were wide, looking sadly back at her. He moved slowly, his clothes tattered. Chains hung around his neck, wrapping around to his arms and the rest of his body. "Del," she gasped, reaching out to touch his cheek. Her hand floated through him, her fingers curling in the icy mist. She pulled her hand back in shock, tears of fear stinging her eyes. "What's happened to you?"
Del shrugged, stooped under the weight of the chains. He extended his arms, looking forlornly from one to the other. "Punishment."
Fear rose in Olivia's throat and her head swam as the transparent mist moved through her. The chains dragged noisily, scratching the wood floor behind Del. "Punishment?" she repeated with a shiver as she turned to follow him.
He nodded, gathering the chains together. He held them up for a long moment before dropping them ceremoniously. They clattered to the floor, Olivia wincing as they clanged around her feet. "My life," he whispered, his breath crystallizing in the cold. "I had to pay for the life I lived on Earth."
She placed her hands over her stomach, as if that could shield her innocent child from Del's grotesque sentence. "You weren't that bad," she argued weakly, bringing a smile to the ghost's face.
"Ruthless businessman," he countered. "True friend to no one. Terrible brother. Neglectful father." He sighed, as if speaking tired him. He shook his head, his eyes falling. "I've earned my fate."
"But-"
"As you're earning yours."
Olivia's head flew up, her eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"
"You." He rolled his shoulders, the heavy chains digging into him. "We share the same fate."
She shook her head violently, refusing to believe that the same sickly chains awaited her. "No! No! You're wrong!" She spun away from him, mumbling under her breath, "I won't be guilty by association."
"But you are." She looked over her shoulder, blue eyes narrowed in thought. "You damned yourself the moment you agreed to Gregory's plan."
"That was his plan! His! Not mine!"
"But you went along with it all the same." The sad truth lay between them, prickly in the night. "It was your job to talk him out of it."
"My job?" She stared quietly back at Del for a long moment, her heart thundering. "You know, better than almost anyone, what Gregory is like when he gets an idea in his head."
Del's mouth set and he shook his head slowly. "It doesn't work like that, darlin'. You were his conscience." Her eyes fell and she hung her head, her thick hair falling like a curtain. "It was wrong and you knew it…didn't you?" She nodded, looking up as a tear rolled slowly down her cheek. "You doomed yourself when you couldn't stop him."
Her throat tightened and a strange feeling came over her. He was right. She should have stood up to Gregory, should have recognized the ludicrous idea for what it was: impossible. She should have refused him, arguing to hell and back that it was wrong. "You thought the car accident was your punishment, didn't you?" she heard Del ask and she blinked in surprise. He chuckled to himself when a sheepish blush colored her cheeks. "It doesn't work like that."
"It should. I deserved it," she hissed, recalling the crunch of the car's hood against the metal barrier. The dizzy feeling of the car bouncing down the hill. The agonizing pain that ripped through her, the warm trickle of blood down her face as consciousness alluded her.
"Maybe," he said, readjusting the chain that wrapped around his middle. "But there is still time for you to change your fate."
Her eyes flashed as a shiver went down her spine. "Change my fate? Change my fate!" Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked through them, angrily wiping them away. "I can't change anything! Caitlin is dead!" She fell back to the bed, covering her face as she sobbed into her hands.
"It's never too late," Del said softly over her mournful sobbing. "There's still time."
She peeked through her fingers, sniffling. "How?"
A teasing smile itched at his mouth and he spoke slowly, "You're going to have some visitors tonight."
Her eyebrow arched, questioning. "Visitors? What kind of visitors?"
He shook his head, an exhausted sigh on his lips. "I can't tell you, darlin'. That would ruin the surprise."
Olivia stood, her hands angrily on her hips. "Surprise? This is ridiculous!" Her eyes flashed and she poked him accusingly in the chest, her finger going through him. "You're dead! You're not here!" She nodded to herself, speaking faster to reassure herself. "That's it. This is all a dream. A crazy nightmare."
She turned away as Del began to chuckle, pulling her nightgown and robe from behind the pillows. "I just need to sleep," she told herself, all the while continuing to nod. "I'm not in my right mind and I just need a good night's sleep." She stopped suddenly, looking over shoulder as she held the silk nightclothes to her chest. "Turn away."
"If I'm not really here, what does it matter if I see you naked?" he laughed.
She grimaced, stepping into the bathroom and reaching for the door. "Good night, Del," she said firmly, closing the door.
He chuckled to himself as he gathered his chains together. He glanced at the closed bathroom door, pulling the chains along. "Sleep well, Olivia. Sleep well." He floated back through the door, the last swirls of ghostly mist disappearing into the wood.
After several moments, Olivia opened the bathroom door and peered out into the bedroom. It was still and quiet. There was no trace of her eerie visitor, no evidence of the almost earthquake that had stirred her from a sound sleep. She sighed in relief, drawing the lapels of her robe together. "Del wasn't here. I'm just tired," she whispered to herself. "Terribly sleep deprived."
She pulled back the comforter and climbed into the bed. She pulled the sheets up to her chin, sinking deeper into the bed's warm embrace. "A good night's sleep is just what I need," she murmured, reaching to turn off the light before she turned on her side.
She was asleep within moments, breathing deep in the dark room as a wicked breeze whipped across the beach.