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
Genre: Drama
Spoilers: Everything through the 150's and Gregory's "master plan"
Summary: He wouldn't admit this to anyone, and certainly not to his wife, but there were times when he just didn't understand her. (Part I of the "Master Plan" series)
The sunlight streaming in through the large kitchen windows was a strange counterpoint to the dark garage, Gregory thought as he walked into the house. He blinked, setting his heavy briefcase on the counter as his nose wrinkled. An oddly sweet smell danced on the air and he looked over at his daughter. "What's this you're brewing?" he asked, nearing her as she poured a steaming golden liquid into a tea cup.
Caitlin glanced up, smiling tightly as she set the matching tea pot and cup onto a tray. "It's for Mom," she explained, leaning up to peck his cheek. "She came home sick from the radio station." She turned away quickly, straightening the tray before she picked it up. An amused smirk came to his face for a brief moment before it fell away when his daughter looked back up. "She looks awful. I never knew morning sickness was this terrible."
He nodded and followed her out of the kitchen. "Well," he said as he adopted an appropriately grave tone, "I'm sure Mom is relieved you're here. I know I am." He had to give his wife credit. She had warmed to her role as an actress far quicker than he had anticipated. After her resistance the other night, this was a welcome change. It would be no time at all before Caitlin was convinced that her mother's "pregnancy" was truly in danger.
She glanced over her shoulder and tossed him a smile before she turned for the stairs. "Was it like this when she was pregnant before?"
Their voices bounced around them in the stairwell as they neared the second floor. "Yes and no," he said. That much was true. Olivia had a poor track record with morning sickness. It was ironic that the only pregnancy free of illness was the one that ended in a miscarriage. "You, in particular, gave your mother a special kind of hell."
"Poor Mom," she sighed. He nodded and gestured his daughter into their bedroom first. The curtains were pulled back, warm sunlight filling the room. Olivia was stretched out on the chaise lounge in front of the windows, a thick blanket draped over her legs. "Here's some herbal tea, Mom," he heard their daughter say as she set the tray on her lap. As Caitlin fussed, he looked back at his wife's surprised face and winked at her. But, Olivia only frowned and looked away.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, wondering how his wife managed to look so pale. It must have been the dark robe, he realized, that made her appear paler than usual. Her damp hair curled in loose waves around her face as she took a tentative sip of the tea and gave their daughter a half-smile.
"Fine," Olivia said softly, still not meeting his eyes.
"Mom," Caitlin chided, "tell Daddy the truth. You were so dizzy that you couldn't even drive home." She turned to her father and continued, "Her secretary drove her. I'm just so glad I was here to help her upstairs. After she threw up, she took a warm bath and then I got her settled in here."
He beamed and cupped his daughter's face before placing a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you, princess. Seems to me that you're more suited for a medical degree than that liberal arts nonsense you insisted on majoring in."
"I don't know about that," she giggled. "I just want to help Mom." Her eyes widened and she gasped. "Oh! I forgot the water crackers!" She turned to her mother and promised to return quickly before she disappeared.
After glancing behind him to make sure that Caitlin was gone, Gregory grinned at his wife and quietly began to applaud. "Well, well, well," he marveled as he sat down near her legs, "it seems you pulled this one off." Strangely, Olivia said nothing. She only narrowed her eyes as she continued to sip the tea their daughter prepared. Slowly, he reached out and rested his hand on his wife's kneecap. "Congratulations on the brilliant charade, sweetheart. Caitlin is truly worried about you." She flinched and parted her lips to reply. He leaned in, waiting for a response.
She slowly returned the tea cup to its saucer and sighed deeply. Silence danced between them before she finally looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot. "It's not an act," she whispered and he cocked his head, confused. She looked back down at her lap as she admitted, "I really don't feel well."
"Oh?" He frowned and leaned closer, gently nudging her trembling chin up. As she inhaled sharply, he cupped the back of her neck as he pressed his lips to her forehead. She did feel feverish. His frown deepened when he saw the sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes. "You really are sick," he said softly as he quickly picked up the tray and set it aside. She shuddered and nodded as he sat closer, cupping her cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, disappointed with himself that he didn't give it more than a passing thought when he noticed she went to bed early last night and slept late this morning. "Hmm?"
She shrugged and wiped her eyes. "It's nothing," she insisted, turning her face into the warmth of his palm. "There's a flu going around the office. I must have finally caught it."
He wouldn't admit this to anyone, and certainly not to his wife, but there were times when he just didn't understand her. Most of the time, he could look at her and know what she was thinking, but not lately. She was an enigma, hiding in the shadows of the truth. "This isn't nothing," he said, shaking his head. He rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone, watching as she sat slumped against the pillows. "Should I be worried?"
It was a slight hesitation, but he still saw it. Her eyes danced as she shook her head and sat up. "I'm fine," she stuttered as she pushed herself into his embrace. Slowly, his arms came around her as she lay her head on his shoulder and turned her face into his neck.
His brow furrowed, more confused than before, as he kissed her head. "I came back to change for my golf game, but I'm going to cancel it and stay here. With you."
She looked up, shaking her head. "Oh. No, don't do that, darling. Please. Go to the course." Her smile was strained, but she looked deep into his eyes and said, "Play well and win...for me."
The tense smile was an odd counterpoint to the tears in her eyes. He sighed and cupped her face in both of his hands. "Liv, you would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?" he asked, his voice low and serious. He knew what she would say, but he still wanted to ask. Her bloodshot eyes were wide as she nodded slightly. "Look," he began, his voice dropping to a hush, "I know that what I'm asking of you is hard, but-"
"Here are the crackers!" Caitlin exclaimed as she breezed back into the room, holding a plate. "I can't believe I- what's wrong?"
Gregory watched as his wife cleared her throat and took his hands as she held them in her lap. Ignoring his frown, she looked up at their daughter and forced a smile for her benefit. "Nothing's wrong, darling. Your father wants to back out of his golf game, but I told him he didn't need to." Gregory watched as she turned back to him, blinking her still shining eyes as she let go of his hands. "I'll be fine," she said quietly, gently pushing him up from the lounge.
Slowly, he stood, unable to take his eyes off his wife. "I'll go change then," he said. His wife nodded and leaned back, exhaling deeply as she looked up at him, her eyes pleading. He turned to his daughter and said sternly, "You call me if anything happens." She nodded, taking her responsibility seriously.
Turning back to Olivia, he leaned down and kissed her lips softly. When he pulled back, their eyes met and he whispered, "Let me stay."
"Go!" she hissed quietly, her hand brushing against his chest. He exhaled deeply, unable to shake the odd feeling coursing through him. There was something she wasn't telling him. He'd talk to her again tonight, when they were alone. Remind her how much he needed her for this plan to succeed. That she was the only one who could make it work. That their daughter's future happiness was at stake. That they were well past the point of no return.
Slowly, he stood, squeezing her hand before their fingers slipped apart. "Don't worry, Daddy," he heard Caitlin say. "I'll take good care of Mom."
And, Gregory nodded, forcing himself to smile at his daughter as his wife turned away and gazed forlornly out the window.
THE END.