(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 43: "After the Rain"

Bette struggled to hold back a yawn and she shifted slightly on the bed. No use really, her muscles had drifted away to numbness hours ago. Her eyes were like sandpaper, scratchy and dry from staying open all night. Staying awake all night wasn't a new phenomenon, but never before had one of these benders been filled with so much anxiety. Starting with AJ's panicked phone call in the early hours of the morning, it had all gone downhill from there.

She looked down at the head resting in her lap. Her fingers gently combed through the long dark hair, frowning as Olivia continued to tremble. When she arrived, her friend had been manic, pacing frantically around the room in sodden pajamas, rambling about something trying to kill her. No amount of assurances could calm her, convince her that she was safe. Bette closed her eyes and leaned back against the headboard, recalling the way she fought with Olivia to calm down, as tears ran down her face and she tugged a clump of her dark hair out by the roots.

Her eyes opened slowly as she felt Olivia sit up. She was propping herself up with her arms, cautiously taking in her surroundings. "How you doing, Toots?" she asked softly.

Olivia stared at her for a long moment, her eyes puffy from prolonged crying until she managed to whisper, "I don't know." She pulled herself up into a sitting position with painstakingly slow movements. She sat back against the headboard but after several seconds, she slumped to the side and rested on Bette's shoulder. "My head hurts," she complained softly.

"I would imagine so," Bette said as she turned to look at her. She cupped Olivia's chin, tilting her head up as she gently probed the bump on her forehead. "Yup, a real goose egg," she concluded as she clucked her tongue and Olivia winced. "You, my friend, did quite the number on yourself."

Olivia shrugged and leaned back against Bette's shoulder. "I guess."

"No, we know. We don't have to guess," she sighed. She wrapped her arm around Olivia's shoulders, rubbing steadily as she pulled them closer together. "What happened Olivia?"

"I don't know." Her voice, normally filled with accented pitches, ran flat as if even talking was too much of a chore. "I was happy…and then I wasn't." She ran her hand down the hand knit quilt that Bette wrapped around her, poking her finger through one of the spaces in the delicate design. "Maybe," she thought aloud after a moment, "I drank too much?"

Bette's head shook quickly, a hastily constructed bun holding back her red hair. "Booze wouldn't do this to you Livy." Her eyes fell down to her lap. Alcohol didn't make a person climb onto the ledge of their balcony and- "Do you remember what happened to you last night?"

Struggling with a yawn, Olivia nodded. "I remember all of it. Everything." Her eyes fell shut as she struggled to explain the events of the previous night. "At first," she began softly, "it felt like I was on top of the world. Everything was perfect and it- it was all perfect." She chuckled lightly as she slid down, staring up at the ceiling as the pillow cradled her head. "Things were alive. I was alive," she added as she turned to gaze up at Bette.

"And later?" Bette prodded anxiously, as a dozen possibilities flew around her head.

Olivia latched onto her extended hand, comforted by the reassuring squeeze she felt. "It was horrible," she whispered tearfully. "Horrible. It- it sucked up all the good and…I thought I'd never be happy again." Her voice fell away as her eyes widened in fear. "Oh God," she sobbed as she started to cry, "I thought I was going to die!" Tears fell freely as she gulped back a sob and scrambled up, "I almost did die, didn't I?"

Bette hugged Olivia to her, her tears dampening the lightweight turtleneck she tugged on before racing over. "Shh," she whispered. "You're safe now. You're safe."

The sobbing came harder, gut wrenching cries that irritated her head and caused it to throb. "The- the bal-"

"AJ pulled you down." From the night table, she grabbed a tissue and passed it to Olivia. "Livy, it's ok," she promised her still crying friend. "You're safe now." She patted her cheek and repeated in a whisper, "You're safe."

"But," Olivia sputtered as she wiped her cheeks and nose dry, "I almos-"

"Almost," she interrupted. "Almost." She sighed and smoothed a wrinkle out of the quilt she wrapped around Olivia's shoulders. "Are you warm enough?"

Olivia looked up at her slowly and nodded, her eyes glazed over with exhaustion. "I kicked you," she whispered in horror. "Last night, I was wet and cold…and you were trying to pull my nightgown off so you could get me into dry clothes." Her hand fluttered to her mouth as she whispered, "I fell back onto the bed and I kicked you when you leaned over me." She watched as Bette shrugged indifferently and she reached for her hand, squeezing it as she said, "Oh Bette, I'm sorry."

"Oh no," Bette muttered as turned to Olivia, "don't start apologizing again. I went through that earlier when those were the only two words you muttered for about an hour!" As Olivia cracked a smile, she added, "In fact, you apologized so much that you've atoned for original sin."

Olivia's light laughter was a relief to her ears and she couldn't help but join in. Color was returning to her face, erasing the image of the Olivia she first encountered last night. One who had blue lips and was shivering uncontrollably. Her lips were pink again and her cheeks were blooming rosy.

"Seriously, Toots," she continued after a moment, "you weren't yourself last night. You scared the breezes out of AJ…and me." She paused and searched Olivia's face for answers as she asked, "Did you take anything?" She frowned as Olivia's gasp segued into shocked giggle. "Snort anything? Smoke anything?" she mumbled over the laughter.

"Oh God," Olivia said, laughter still clinging to her voice, "are you mad? I haven't smoked anything since college…with you, as I recall."

"Ahhh, yes," Bette sighed nostalgically. "You, me, our new friend Mary Jane, Tapestry in the background." Another sigh fell from her lips as she looked back at Olivia. "Where did all the good times go?"

"Down the drain when we both got married…to men we shouldn't have," Olivia answered dryly. She turned her head away, her breathing coming out in a shudder as she said softly, "I didn't take anything."

Not willingly, Bette thought to herself as she glanced at her watch. Just after eight. "You feeling well enough to take a drive Toots?"

"To where?"

Bette pushed herself off the bed, bending back to stretch the stiff muscles of her back. "What you're wearing is fine," she instructed with a wince, the bones cracking and popping as they came back to life.

Olivia looked down at her clothes. "Fine for what?" she asked as she eyed the thick sweater and jeans covering her body. "Where are we going?"

"My doctor," Bette answered. "Her office opens in an hour."

"Your doctor?" she asked as she folded her legs beneath her and stretched her arms high above her head. "Why not mine?"

Because he's also your husband's doctor. Bette shrugged innocently and untied her hair, combing it with her fingers before throwing it up in a twist. "Because she's closer," she covered. "Your doctor is half way to L.A. In fact," she glanced down at her watch again, "I'm going to try to get her answering service on the phone. See if we can get you in as her first appointment." She forced herself to smile calmly, willing herself to relax as she backed away. "I'm going to use a phone downstairs so you can get ready."

Her hand was on the doorknob, turning it to leave the room when Olivia called out, "Bette?" She turned around just in time to catch the hug. She wrapped her arms around Bette as she kissed her cheek and whispered, "Thank you."

She smiled and blinked back tears as she patted Olivia's cheek. "I know." She sighed deeply and pushed her gently back into the room. "Be ready to go." She gestured down at the ground and pointed out, "The barefoot look went out two seasons ago."

Olivia's cheeks blushed to a deep shade of red, but she nodded and she promised, "I'll be ready." She tossed a smile over her shoulders as she disappeared into the walk-in closet.

Bette closed the door softly behind her and broke out in a brisk walk down the hallway. The house was empty except for the three of them. His mother gone, none of the servants around. No one for Livy to get help from, she grumbled to herself as she jogged down the stairs. No one to save her.

"Slimy bastard," she muttered as she glared at a portrait of AJ and Olivia on their wedding day in the library. "He definitely gave her something."


Olivia stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, staring quietly at her reflection. A large bruise mapped across her forehead, black and blue tinged with a sickly yellow. Bette was right. There was a large bump.

The dark bruise contrasted nicely though with the angry red scratches on her cheeks and chin. She glanced down at her fingernails, wincing at the lack of them. The nail was ripped away on two of her fingers, snapped off practically down to the bed.

"What a night," she sighed aloud as she left the bathroom, ignoring the two trails of blood that streaked across the wallpaper.

"You can say that again."

She jumped and spun around, following the voice. "AJ!" she gasped as her hand flew to her chest.

He pushed away from the wall, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Just me."

"God," she sighed as she plopped down on the foot of the unmade bed. She glanced up at him as she rolled her jeans up to her knees, pulling on a pair of boots. "Are you alright?"

He shrugged and leaned against the bureau. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"But you haven't." She smoothed down one pant leg and pulled up the other one.

"I know." He sighed tiredly and rubbed his cheeks fervently. "I was up all night in my office…thinking."

Olivia pulled the boot zipper up and tugged her jeans back in place. "About what?" she asked as she stood up and walked over to her vanity. He watched for a moment as she ran a brush through her hair, wincing as the bristles rubbed against her irritated scalp and fought with tangles.

"You. Us. Our life." He sucked in his breath and shoved his hands deeper in the pockets of his wrinkled robe. "I was blind." She put her brush down slowly and turned to him as he said, "I can't believe I didn't realize what was going on with you sooner."

"What are you talking about?" she asked softly and cautiously. "What's going on with me?"

He sighed patiently. "Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out?"

She turned away from him, her legs moving mechanically as she hugged her arms to her chest. "Figure it out?" she repeated, her mind racing as she tried to figure out where he was going with all of this. And more importantly, how much he knew.

He sat up and grabbed her shoulders, turning her around so he could look into her eyes. They were calm now, a significant change from the way they were last night. Rubbing her shoulders with his thumbs lightly, he said, "You. Figure you out. And what you've been hiding."

"AJ," she chuckled nervously, "what is it you think I've been keeping from you?"

He narrowed his eyes as he tilted his head and smiled knowingly, like a little boy who knew one of his older sister's secrets. "I know," he sighed, "that you've been hiding how unhappy you are." His hands fell away from her shoulders and he rocked back on his heels as her hands flew to her neck, fidgeting anxiously. "I don't want you to try and deny it. After last night," he trailed off as he glanced furtively at the balcony doors, closed and locked tight, "there's no way that you could."

She bit the corner of her lip and whispered, "I wasn't going to."

AJ looked up in surprise. "Good," he said, nodding his head slightly, "because I want us to be honest." He took her gently by the hand and led her to the foot of the bed, sitting her down as he kneeled in front of her. "I want to say something and I'm going to ask you not to interrupt please." Her silence was her agreement and he sucked in his breath before he began. "I never thought it possible," he started softly, "that things could get so bad between us. Weren't we happy on our wedding day?"

Happy wasn't the word that Olivia would have used to describe her feelings on that day. Resigned terror would have been more apropos. Knowing that with each step she took down the long aisle to the altar and AJ, she was clearly making the biggest mistake of her life. Wondering if it would've been so terrible if she had yanked her arm away from her father's, turned on her heel, and fled.

"I thought we were," he continued as he rested his hands on her knees, squeezing slightly. "But last night, when I found you- I felt like I didn't even know you."

"Perhaps you don't," she muttered as she pressed her fingers lightly against the side of her head. Icing earlier had reduced the swelling a bit, but had done nothing to combat the growing headache. She reached behind her, pushing her beige trench coat aside and pulling a small pillbox out of her bag.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She shrugged as she swallowed two aspirins dry and tossed the small box back into her leather bag. "We dated for barely a year before you proposed. Maybe you don't know me as well as you think. You just said you felt that way."

"Felt," he differentiated. "I said I 'felt' that way. But deep down, I know you Angel," he said confidently.

Olivia narrowed her eyes as she squirmed beneath his touch. "How do I take my tea?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" he scoffed after a moment's pause. "What does that matter?"

"It matters to me."

"Angel," he broke off as he laughed, a trace of condescending amusement running through it, "that really isn't important. The point is, you and I need to reconnect. Get our marriage back on track. We were so happy in the beginning and we can be again." Over her sigh of frustration, he said, "Now I've given this a lot of thought. And I've been on the phone all night to Europe working out the arrangements."

"Arrangements?" she asked softly as her eyebrows arched questioningly.

"We're moving," he inflected grandly as he ran his hands up her things and scooted closer to her. "To France."

"Moving. To France." Olivia shook her head and insisted, "No, we aren't moving."

"Angel-"

"Stop calling me 'Angel'! Damnit," she sighed in disgust as she glared across at him. "My name is Olivia."

He reeled back as if she struck him, his jaw dropping. She's worse off than I suspected, he thought as she crossed her arms in front of her. This is all for the best.

"We need this," he continued cautiously. "I need this. But most importantly, you need this. I've purchased a large home for us in St. Tropez. It has a view of the sea. La mer. Wouldn't you like that An- Olivia?"

"No," she began as she shook her head. "AJ-"

"You can rest there," he interrupted loudly over her continued protests. "Recuperate from all of this…unpleasantness. Monte Carlo is just a short plane ride away. Paris too."

"Why aren't you listening to me!" she snapped. "I don't want to move to France. I can't move to France. My life- everything is here. Bette. Not to mention my job. I can't just walk away from them. And you," she said as she jabbed him in the chest with her index finger, "have your father's company based here."

"Provisions have been made for that."

"AJ, what have you done?" she whispered.

"I've done what is in my rights as President and CEO," he argued testily. "I'm splitting the company in two. As it is now, it's already functioning as two separate entities," he said, despite Olivia's gasp of surprise. "I'm leaving the North American half to the Board of Trustees. I'll still serve as President and CEO, but I'm leaving the day-to-day operations to them. The operations here have been nothing but trouble. That way I'll be free to oversee the European front. Which, as you know," AJ said smugly, "is based in-"

"Paris," Olivia finished softly as her mind raced. Gregory. He'd have no reason to come to Paris. AJ was no longer dealing with him. Her stomach churned as chilling realization set in. She'd never see Gregory again. She swallowed her fear, pushing it back down her throat, as she shook her head and stated bluntly, "I'm not coming with you then."

"Yes, you are." His grip tightened around legs as he reiterated, "You are my wife. Your place is with me." He stood up, resting his hand on her shoulder as he looked down at her. "I've always admired your independent streak but this is getting ridiculous. I have made a decision and that's final."

Cold anger replaced her fear as she jumped to her feet, pushing him away. "Excuse me? You've made a decision and that's that? I don't think so. This is not the nineteenth century."

"You know Olivia, this 'women's lib' bit was cute, attractive even, when we were in college and dating, but you are my wife now and -"

"And what you say goes?" she interrupted with a bitter chuckle. "Oh AJ, this tough man act doesn't suit you. You've got nothing to back it up with." She wrenched away from him after his grip on her shoulder tightened. She was dancing dangerously close to the point of no return, but she didn't care anymore. They both were in unfamiliar territory and the gloves were off, as the uncharacteristic glint in his eyes attested.

"I can't have you running around Sunset Beach, trying to jump off every balcony that you come in contact with!"

She spun back to him, her hair flying and eyes blazing. "So that's what this is about! You're worried that I'm going to sully your reputation!" She tried to push him away roughly as his hand locked around her wrist, twisting it harshly as he held it at bay. "Did you ever think," she hissed as she fought to free her wrist, "that the reason I wanted to jump was you?" His jaw clenched and she went in for the kill. "That death was preferred rather than having to spend one more miserable day as your wife!"

In hindsight, she should have anticipated it. But it was so uncharacteristic for him to lose his composure and be anything but placid, that she didn't see the back of his hand coming at her until she felt his knuckles crack against the side of her face. She stumbled and her head flew to the side as the bitter, metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and a burst of stars exploded in her vision. A floodgate of emotion opened in her, releasing a torrent of anger and the primal need to defend herself. Fight or flight.

"Bastard," she growled as her free hand flew up, contacting harshly against the side of his face. He reeled back from the impact and released her wrist, enabling her to push him away and down to the bed. "Don't you ever raise your hand to me again!" She flexed her sore wrist, wincing at the pain shooting up from it and her face as she licked the open wound in the corner of her mouth.

He chuckled bitterly as he shook out his hand, ignoring the splits in his flesh that stretched across his knuckles. "Or what? You'll leave?"

"I'm leaving you anyway."

His head snapped up as he stood and took a step closer. "What?"

Her gaze was steady as she met his eyes and repeated, "I'm leaving you. We're through."

"To go where? Bette's?" he asked pompously.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't!" he roared. He rushed across the room, stopping scant inches from her body. "I saved your life last night! If it weren't for me, you'd be splattered across the stone patio! You owe me! No one else would've charged head first outside in the middle of a thunderstorm to pull you down!"

Adrenaline coursed through her veins and she straightened her spine, looking AJ straight in the eye as she said calmly, "Yes, he would have." Her eyes never left his as they froze, blank confusion replacing the glint of rage until the light of realization flickered on.

"You-," he sputtered. "You- He?"

She stood quietly in front of him, her eyes still and calm. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "It just happened."

He sighed, a long sigh that seemed to expel every drop of air from his body. "You're sorry?" he asked as he turned away, his head down as he rubbed the back of his neck tiredly.

"I am."

He waved her away dismissively as he sank back down to the bed. "You're sorry," he snorted. "A lot of good that does me." He looked back up at her, standing quietly with her hands clasped demurely in front of her. "Who is he?" She paused visibly and he felt his anger resurface, egged on by the blow to his pride he just suffered. "Don't turn bashful on me now!" he snapped as her eyes narrowed. "I'd like to know who my wife's been carrying on with!"

"Gregory Richards," she answered softly. The last ribbon of secrecy fluttered away from her soul. The last secret was out. Nothing stood between them now except the truth. The brutally honest truth, as cold and harsh as it was.

"Oh God," AJ groaned. He hung his head in his hands, leaning over his knees as he muttered, "Why him? Anyone but him." He glanced back up at her, his eyes clouded over with anguish. "How could you do this to me?"

Olivia stifled the urge to roll her eyes in exasperation. "It wasn't about you," she said, struggling to keep her tone non-confrontational. He frowned hurtfully as she sighed, "You had nothing to do with it."

"And I suppose he knows how you take your damn tea!"

She couldn't help but beam, the crack in her lip howling in icy pain that killed the brief smile a moment later, but AJ saw it nonetheless. In that instant he knew that Gregory Richards knew how she took her tea. And much, much more.

He leaned back over his knees and muttered, "Of course he does."

She walked over to him, slow and careful steps. Leaving her throbbing wrist at her side, she scooped up her coat and bag with one hand and glanced down at AJ. "I'm sorry," she whispered again.

AJ didn't look up as she took her address book from her nightstand and left the room.

Walking slowly down the stairs, she gripped the railing as her body still raced from the adrenaline spike. "Don't bother to come up," she suggested as she saw Bette coming across the foyer. The red head glanced up in surprise and waited at the foot of the stairs. "I'm ready to go."

"What the hell happened to you!" Bette exclaimed as Olivia stepped off the last stair, dropping her purse to the ground as she struggled into her coat with one arm. "Your face! And what the hell happened to your hand?"

"I need you to drive me to the airport," she said, ignoring the other questions as Bette held the coat up, allowing her to slide the arm with the hurt wrist into the sleeve.

"The airport?"

"Yes," she nodded as she bent down to retrieve her bag, shoving the address book inside. "I'm going to New York."