Disclaimer: I don't own Scandal.
AN: I want to say thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows, especially the reviews. The longer the better, lol. I love hearing from you guys and how you have dealt with the issue of slavery/racism or simply if you liked my chapter, so keep them coming. Anyways, here's the next chapter. Happy reading :)
Olivia woke up bright and early the next morning, her energy up and a small smile gracing her lips. She was humming as she prepared the dough for the scones she was making for breakfast and even began to sing a little as she went out to collect eggs from the chicken coop. She grabbed her bucket and headed out into the early summer morning, the sun barely peaking above the tobacco plants. Already people were out and working, probably had been since the first signs of light. Songs of freedom drifted to Olivia's ears and she sang along to the sad melodies of God troubling the water.
As she got closer to the chicken coop, she stopped singing when she heard rustling in the hay. Normally this wouldn't alarm her because the chickens moved all the time, but there was also a figure crouched over one of the nests. She was about to turn and leave when she stepped on a branch and alerted him to her presence.
In his hands was a chicken hanging limp, its neck obviously broken. He also had two eggs in his other hand and looked as though he was about to kill another chicken. He looked almost savage, but beyond that was clear, obvious signs of desperation. Something she had felt more than once in her life.
"We's hungry. There are chi'ren that haven't eaten a decent meal in all their lives and I figured Master wouldn't notice two chickens and a couple of eggs missing," the man tried to explain, speaking fast.
"I ain't seen nothing," Olivia said, making it known she wasn't going to tell but she wasn't going to be a part of his thievery either. If they both got caught, well…she didn't want to think about it.
As she turned to leave, she heard the man call out to her. "I'm Harrison. I came here not too long ago from Smith Plantation.
Olivia remembered her mother telling her about a young man named Harrison. No wonder she liked him. There was something about the man that reminded her of her father. Eli would do the same thing. Early in the morning he would sneak to the chicken coop and grab two chickens and some eggs and that night he would skin and cook them and try to feed everyone as best he could, using every part of the chicken right down to the feet. He would only do this occasionally and would dig a hole outside of the coop to make it look like a fox had gotten in. Even though he was new, Olivia could tell that Harrison was the loyal type and would do whatever he could for people. Standing at his full height, Harrison was tall and broad and actually was quite handsome. His muscles that were born from hard work were on full display with a tattered pair of pants held up by a string being his only clothing. Even though he was handsome, she knew they wouldn't progress past friends.
"I'm Olivia," she returned.
"Oh, your Greta's daughter? She been telling me tales about her daughter in the big house. I was beginning to think she made you up," he said jokingly.
"I'm real," she assured him. "Look, you better get out of here before someone catches you," Olivia warned. "And next time, dig a hole so it looks like a critter got in here and make sure to hide the bones and shells real good."
"I will," he told her gratefully then hurried off to hide his loot until he could cook it tonight.
When Olivia was done collecting the eggs and preparing breakfast, she took a tray up to the Grant's master bedroom, dreading having to wake such wretched people. She knew it was wrong, but every night she would pray that God didn't wake them up. That they had died in their sleep, freeing them all from the terror that was Big Gerry.
"Master Grant, Mrs. Grant, it's time to wake up," Olivia called softly, setting the tray down on the table near the window.
They stirred a little, but they didn't fully wake. Olivia hated when this happened. This meant she had to raise her voice and every time she did, Big Gerry would yell at her for 'yelling' and would threaten to make sure she never spoke another word again.
As she stared down at their sleeping bodies, she realized how easy it would be to take the pillow and smother them in their sleep. She would have to kill Big Gerry first then Mrs. Grant. But then what? She knew Cyrus wouldn't let her even step foot one inch off the land before he had her lynched. But in a way, it would be worth it.
"Master Grant. Mrs. Grant," Olivia called again just as lightly.
Finally Mrs. Grant opened her eyes and Olivia was relieved that she wouldn't have to call to them again. Sitting up in the bed, Mrs. Grant learned over and shook her husband awake. They stretched some and wiped the sleep from their eyes, both yawning and trying to fully wake up.
"Bring that food over here, girl," Big Gerry commanded, his voice still rough with sleep.
Olivia did as she was told, fixing his coffee just the way he liked before setting the cup on his nightstand and putting the food in his lap. She went back to get Mrs. Grant's food and fixed her tea the way she liked before stepping away.
"Is the anything else I can get for you Master," Olivia asked, keeping her eyes down.
"No, but you can answer me a question," Big Gerry began. "Are you hungry? It's been three days since you've last eaten."
This was a trick question. This wasn't the first time Olivia had been punished with starvation. The last time he hadn't let her eat for two days and when she brought him his meal in the morning, he had asked her the same question. Thinking she would get in trouble for lying, she answered honestly. What he did next had been unthinkable. He chewed up his pancake, spit it out on his hand, and made Olivia eat it. Telling her that she should be grateful, that dogs usually didn't get fed people food. She had thrown up immediately after and had lost her appetite even when he let her eat that night.
"No Master," she answered somewhat honestly. She had eaten the rest of the apple that Fitz had given her last night and while it wasn't filling, it was something.
"Good, so you won't mind going another day without food," Big Gerry deemed.
"Now Gerry, we can't have the girl go dropping dead of starvation. She's my best house nigger and I'll be damned if I have to train another so soon," Mrs. Grant defended, though it was more for her benefit than Olivia's.
"The girl has got to learn, Ginny. But you're right. Tonight you can eat, but not a second sooner than when I say. If I catch you stealing from me, I'll cut off your hand and sell you Peterson," Big Gerry threatened, Olivia having no doubt that he meant it.
"Yes Master," Olivia replied even though a question hadn't been asked. Big Gerry demanded an answer to everything he said.
"Good, now get."
When she left the Grant's room, she went back to the kitchen to get Fitzgerald's breakfast before heading to his bedroom to wake him up. Her heart rate picked up as she neared his door and her palms became sweaty. When she entered, he was laying on top of the covers only in an undershirt and his underwear. His hair was in a mass of unruly curls and his mouth was open in a slight snore. He was gorgeous.
"Master Fitzgerald," Olivia called out, trying to wake him.
He didn't even move. He kept on sleeping, his breathing still even, his stomach moving up and down rhythmically. "Master Fitzgerald…"
He still didn't move and had he not been breathing, she would've been worried. Moving towards the edge of the bed, she put her hand out tentatively, the appendage shaking as she neared his body. Her breathing sped up and she almost pulled her hand away. But at the last minute, she gently placed it on his shoulder and felt the warm flesh beneath her fingertips. She shook him as lightly as possible and immediately stepped back, her fingertips still tingling from touching him.
He shifted on the bed and groaned, bringing his hand up to rub his still closed eyes. He looked disheveled and tired and absolutely adorable. He stretched his long limbs, groaning as he worked out the kinks brought about from sleeping and Olivia bit her lip at the sight of his muscles stretching underneath his skin.
"Good morning," he said groggily, adding a lazy smile that made her insides warm.
"I have your breakfast," Olivia told him, turning to get it from the nightstand.
"Thank you," he said as he took her offering. "Have I ever told you that you make thee best jam this side of Mississippi? Heck, in the whole world," he asked her around a mouthful of food.
She blushed and a smile formed at the corner of lips from the compliment. Not once had she heard that she was truly appreciated and she knew that the only person that would be telling her so was Fitz. At least until he married Mellie and left her here by herself.
"Is that…is that a smile I see?" he teased, smiling brightly at her. "Well I'll be damned, it is. You're so beautiful, do you know that? You should smile more often," he told her, thinking he was paying her a compliment.
Though she knew his heart was in the right place, the comment made her made angry. What exactly did she have to smile about? The fact that she can't go anywhere without a wearing a tag saying who she belonged to? The fact that if she even looked at Master wrong it would get her beat and starved. Or maybe she should be happy that she got to sleep in a closet the size of a coffin and that she would never be free.
But all that came out was, "Yes sir."
He seemed to realize his mistake and scrambled quickly to cover up his blunder. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I know…"
"You don't know," she whispered, then quickly put a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide and wishing to take back what she just said. She had never back talked before in her life and was scared about what he was going to do to her.
"You're right, I don't know. I'm just…I'm sorry," he sighed, knowing that he had just set them back a step.
"Do you need anything else, sir?" Olivia asked, going towards the door.
"No, I'm fine. Thank you again for breakfast," he told her, his tone a little bleaker.
Olivia nodded her head and turned to leave the room, but his voice stopped her. "I'll be in your room close to midnight with food. I don't want you to be afraid when you hear me coming."
While she appreciated the warning, she'd always be cautious. It was just in her nature.
"It's time you start helping Cyrus out in the fields, Fitz," Big Gerry told his son.
They were sitting in his study, Cyrus having joined them, when Big Gerry dropped the bombshell. Fitz knew that this day was coming. He had been dreading it since he turned thirteen. He knew that his father wanted to mold him in his image, wanted to groom him to take over the plantation when the time was right. But Fitz couldn't see himself doing it.
"I could definitely use the help. There's an auction coming up soon and they're supposed to have some fine specimens. Maybe Fitzgerald could come with me on my trip," Cyrus informed them.
Cyrus was an odd man. There was something off about him that Fitz couldn't place his finger on. Maybe it was the way he stared at the men slaves as if they were women. Or maybe it was how he was only particularly cruel when Big Gerry was around but was more lenient when he thought no one was looking. Make no mistake; Cyrus could definitely be a bastard. He was known for having a heavy hand and would lay lashes on someone he thought did wrong, but then there were small bursts of kindness, of humanity, that Fitz noticed. It was almost as if he knew what it was like to be viewed as anything less than a child of God, knew what it was like to never be accepted for something you can't control. Cyrus was an enigma that Fitz didn't really want to figure out because he knew whatever it was, it would only cause probable.
"That's a great idea, Cy. Where's the auction?" Big Gerry asked, putting his boots up on his desk.
"It's in Fayetteville which is about a little more than half a day's journey from here. I know that it's far but they always have the best buys for a fair price," Cyrus told them.
"I think that it will be a good experience for Fitz so that he will know what to look for when he has to start going to market. I want you to show him how to pick the best ones and how to haggle the price down so that we're not overpaying," Big Gerry said.
"Of course, sir. Wouldn't have it any other way," Cyrus agreed.
"Good. Good. You guys can go in a few days, but in the meantime, I want you to start in the fields tomorrow, you understand Fitz?" Big Gerry questioned his son.
Fitz really didn't want to be in the fields so soon, ever if he could help it. But he also knew that he couldn't go against his father. It was an impossible situation and if he was going to get out of here unscathed, he'd have to go along with things. For now.
"Yes, father," Fitz answered and Big Gerry nodded his head with satisfaction.
"I passed by Harrison this morning on my way into the house and he said that he saw you in the chicken coops. I think he was quite smitten," Greta informed her daughter.
They were in the kitchen, finishing up the last of the dishes when her mother finally approached the subject. Olivia knew it was only a matter of time before her mother brought up Harrison. She had been quite all through cooking dinner and through most of the cleanup and Olivia knew that she was just biding her time until she could talk to her daughter.
"I think he's nice, Mama. He reminds me of daddy," Olivia told her, drying a plate.
"That's exactly what I thought," Greta said triumphantly.
"But Mama, there's no way we can be together. I'm here in the house and he's out in the fields. It's an impossible situation," Olivia sighed.
"I think that it's time you ask Mrs. Grant if you can stay in the quarters again. Your my only baby and I miss you and the time we got to spend together outside of the house," Greta told her, laying the guilt on thick.
"I don't want to live in the quarters, Mama," Olivia said quietly, afraid of hurting her mother's feelings.
"They got to you didn't they?" Greta asked her accusingly.
"What do you mean?" Olivia questioned back, setting down the dishrag and giving her mother her full attention.
"You think that you're too good to live with the rest of us," Greta charged, squinting her eyes and folding her arms across her chest.
"Weren't you the one telling me that I needed to be the best, that I needed to be better than everyone else so that I could stay in the house? And now that I am, you think I think I'm too good to live in the quarters," Olivia shook her head in disbelief.
"I know why you don't want to leave. It's because of that boy isn't it? You need to get that dream out of your head right now. It's never going to happen, it goes against nature," Greta reiterated.
"What? No. I already told you that there is nothing…"
"GRETA!"
They both jumped at the sound of Big Gerry's voice. He didn't sound angry, but there was something to his tone that made Olivia even more fearful than when he was angry. The look that came across her mother's face was one of fear, of anger, and finally one of resignation. Greta took a deep breath, wiped her hands on her apron before she took it off and left the kitchen.
No.
No. No. No. No. No. Olivia had seen that face on other women before and she prayed that she'd never see it on her mother. That she'd never have to experience it herself. She was hoping against hope that that look wasn't what she thought it was, that it was something different. But she knew. She knew exactly what was happening. But still, she found herself heading to Big Gerry's study praying that she'd be proven wrong.
She stopped just outside of the door, a crack in it letting her see into the room. Her mother was bent over the desk, a pained look on her face as she waited for the assault to be over. Big Gerry was sweating and panting behind her, completely oblivious to the fact that he had an audience. But Greta wasn't. Her eyes met Olivia's and a look of shame crossed her face, but not before she saw a plea that said 'help me.'
She wanted to go in there and pull Gerry off of her mother. Wanted to take the latern that was on the desk and hit him repeatedly in the head until he was no longer moving. She wanted to take her mother's hand and flee from this God awful place, knowing there had to be something better than this. Anything better than this.
But instead, she ran away, only getting to the kitchen before she broke down and cried. She crumbled to the floor, her knees giving out from the force of her sorrow. Deep sobs wracked her body and she shuddered and hiccupped as she wept as quietly as possible for her mother. Wept for the pain that she had to go through. For the pain that thousands of other women had to go through at the hands of their masters.
She heard footsteps and tried to get herself together but to no avail. Luckily it was her mother, and when Greta saw her baby on the floor, she was right there next to her, wrapping her up in her embrace and rocking her back and force.
"Now do you see? They're the devils. Every single one of them. I see the way they be looking at you. I can't protect you at night if you're here, baby. Now do you see?" Greta whispered into Olivia's hair.
"Am I…is he…my fa…" she couldn't even force the words past her lips.
"No. He's not your father, Eli was," Greta promised.
"I'm so sorry, Mama," Olivia cried, not knowing what else to say.
"Ssshhh…it's okay. It just is what it is. Now do you see? Now do you see?"
That night when she heard footsteps outside of her door she was even more cautious than before. And not just for Big Gerry, but for Fitz too. Was he just trying to gain her trust to get her to let her guard down so that he could take advantage of her when she least expected it? Would he turn into his father in a few years? All she knew was that she would never let her walls down and she'd always be on guard.
The door creaked open and even though she didn't want to be, she was happy that it was Fitz. Half of her was happy that it wasn't Big Gerry and the other half was just genuinely glad that Fitz had stayed true to his word and that she would get to see him. She felt wrong having these feelings that she did for him, but there was nothing she could do to stop them.
"Olivia? You awake? It's me," he whispered, his head peeking around the door.
"I'm up," she answered back just as quietly.
He came fully into the space, shutting the door behind him. This time he had a lantern with him, the glow from the candle inside brightening the room significantly. She nearly licked her lips at the sight of the plate he held in his hands. That night for her dinner, Cyrus had thrown at her a three day old piece of bread and a tough piece of beef that she couldn't even chew. He said that Big Gerry was still punishing and when he felt like he was truly repaid, then she'd get more. Going on faith alone that Fitz was coming that night, she hadn't even touched the near rancid food. She stored it away under her cot, keeping it just in case he didn't come.
And she was glad that she hadn't eaten the meal, if you could call it that, because it probably would have made her sick and she wouldn't have been able to eat what Fitz brought her. On the plate this time was fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, a fresh roll, and green beans. He also had brought her two apples and another piece of cake. Instead of just setting it down and leaving like he did last time, he handed it to her then sat next to her on the cot.
Of this she became suspicious.
But then her stomach growled and reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything all day and she was starving. She wanted to eat like a lady, for some reason embarrassed to look like a pig in front of him, but hunger won out over dignity and she was soon shoveling food in her mouth, not even waiting to swallow before taking another bite.
"Slow down or you're going to make yourself sick," Fitz said half joking, half serious. "I'm not going to take it from you," he promised.
She did slow down, actually stopping to taste the food and chew it before she dug into the next morsel. And he just sat there quietly watching her eat, not moving a muscle and not saying a word. She guessed he must have known that if he moved, she would've jumped out of fright and would've ended up dropping the food on the ground. As hungry as she was, she would've eaten it still. It wouldn't be the first time.
When she was full, she stopped. She still had an apple and a piece of chicken that she was saving for tomorrow just in case he didn't show. But in her gut, she knew that he would. Wiping her mouth on her arm, she looked up at him and waited for him to speak.
"I know you're wondering why I'm still here, I just…I bought this for you in town today," he told her, taking out a small jar from his pocket.
She could tell that he wanted to say something else and she was both disappointed and grateful that he didn't. Untwisting the lid from the jar, he dipped his finger in what looked like some type grease and he reached for her injured hand, stopping just before he touched her and looked to her for permission. She nodded her consent and he took it gently, facing the palm towards him and rubbing the ointment onto her wound.
"The man at the drug store said that this would help it heal better and will keep it from getting infected," he told her, rubbing it in soothingly so as not to hurt her. "I would've gotten it sooner, but I didn't have enough money," he explained.
She had to admit that it did feel better. Or maybe it was from the fact that he was touching her. She didn't know. All she knew was that she was grateful beyond expression. She hadn't been able to close her fist for days without a sharp pain shooting up her arm. Taking a cloth out of his pocket, he wrapped up her hand for her, tight enough not to slip, but loose enough for it not to hurt. She knew that in the morning she'd have to take it off or Big Gerry would wonder where she got it from, but for now, she let herself be taken care of.
"Thank you," she said meekly, almost shyly.
"It's my pleasure," he smiled at her and she found herself returning it.
He got up to leave, taking the lantern and her dirty dishes with him but leaving her the ointment. She didn't want him to go. She was so alone all the time. She had no friends and she only saw her mother when they were working. She craved human contact as was natural for most people and these stolen moments with Fitz were making her dependent on his attention. Already. She was afraid of what would happen if they continued but was more afraid of what would happen to her psyche if they didn't.
He was almost to the door when she stopped him. "Fitz-…I mean, sir, will you be back tomorrow?" she asked, barely even hearing her own question her tone was so low.
"I'll be back every day. I promise," he confirmed, then shut the door and left her alone in the dark.
Good. Maybe she wouldn't be so alone anymore.
AN: So another hard chapter. I tried to be as suggestive as possible when dealing with what Big Gerry did to Greta but still clear in what was happening. I cringed myself when writing I was writing so I know it might have been hard to read. But again, it is something that was a reality during this time and was quite common and something that needed to be addressed. I hope I haven't scared you all away. With Big Gerry being so awful and the topic itself being awful, I try to make Fitz as nice as possible without it being overly so and that's why Olivia is still cautious and not jumping all over him. But their attraction is there, subtle right now, but will be kicked up. Anyways, if you haven't noticed, I will be adding little elements of real history, last chapter it was "Moses", who was Harriet Tubman. This chapter it was Wade in the water, a popular negro spiritual that I'm sure everyone has heard at least once. Also the market in Fayetteville, NC is real and it is still standing, I've been there myself, so go ahead and give it a quick google search. Anyways, leave a review telling me what you thought or of little elements of history that you find intriguing.
