Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children
Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca
Disclaimer: The characters of Olivia Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Frank, Buzz, and Marina Cooper, Doris Wolfe, and Alan Spaulding, are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena Kundera and Bianca Montgomery are owned by All My Children, ABC/Disney and Prospect Park. The original characters of Detective Sergeant Langston Malloy, Attorney Danika Kováč, and their daughter, McKenna, Jacqueline (Jacqué) Morgan, Lorcán Malloy, Daněk Kováč, Bennett Thomas, and Dantéa (Téa) Rivera are the property of this author, and any resemblance to fictional characters, or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, AMC, ABC/Disney, or any other entity. With the exceptions of the Farmhouse of Love, Company, and Cedars Hospital, the settings, dialogue, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Many thanks to my friend and favorite FFW, WickedWanda926, and to my friend newfan64, for their ongoing willingness to edit my stories. Words cannot express how much I appreciate the two of you and your steadfast support of me, both personally, and as a would-be writer. Thank you to all who continue to read and/or comment. I appreciate the time you have invested in this story, and truly hope you continue to enjoy.
Rating: Chapter 18 is rated PG-13 for language.
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"For the greater the love, the greater the grief, and the stronger the faith, the more savagely will Satan storm its fortress."
— C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
Chapter 18.2 – What Price We Pay:
Wednesday, July 8, 2009… The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—8:00 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
"Christ Almighty, Langston," Jacqueline sighed, sounding exasperated as she looked her niece over, head to toe, searching for injuries for the second time in as many weeks. She had already tended to Dani's cuts and scrapes, and been assured that Lena was completely unscathed. With the exception of a few minor abrasions, thankfully, this time, Langston appeared to be injury free, as well.
When the shot rang out, Lena was already out of harm's way, heading toward the covered staircase, and Langston had literally tackled Dani to the ground, covering her wife with her own body. Thankfully, they'd hit sand and not rock, cushioning the blow. From there, they'd crawled their way toward the staircase, the sound of an engine roaring to life giving them some sense of security. The unmarked vessel disappeared in an instant, leaving them to wonder who was aboard, and why they were gunning for someone inside this household. Langston recalled hearing the bullet strike somewhere in the deck above their heads only seconds after she'd tackled Dani. Silently, she vowed to go retrieve it once she was assured they were all safe.
"I'm fine, Jacqué," Langston said, stilling her aunt's hand with a gentle touch. "Really."
Jacqueline met her niece's clear blue gaze, her own darker one filled with affection. "Do you think perhaps you could stay out of the line of bullets for a while this time?" she asked rhetorically.
Langston smiled. "I think I can manage that."
"Well, thank heavens you're all right, the lot of you," Jacqueline said, shifting her gaze first to Dani and then to Lena. They were gathered in the family room just off the kitchen where all views from the outside could be blocked off with something more substantial than simple curtains or drapes. Other than the bathrooms, it was the only room in the cottage where that was possible.
Sandy whimpered, and curled up on her bed near the hearth. Lena reached over, stroking the dog's fur, soothing her. "You were a good girl, alerting us," she praised. Placated, Sandy sighed, and laid her head on her front paws, her coal black eyes shifting from Lena to Bianca, and back again, as if assessing the situation.
"Any idea what this is all about?" Bianca asked innocently. Lexie, who was curled up in her lap, babbled quietly as she played determinedly with the necklace wrapped around her mommy's neck. Instinctively, Bianca pulled her closer.
"I have plenty of ideas," Langston stated. "What I lack is any sort of proof whatsoever."
"What about contacting the local authorities?" Bianca suggested.
"These aren't the kind of people you call the authorities on," Langston was quick to warn. That was the last thing she needed—to have to explain to some small-town rookie cop why they were dodging a sniper's bullets while they were supposed to be on vacation.
"But you're a cop," Bianca pointed out unnecessarily, stressing the detective's line of work.
"Yes," Langston sighed. "But I'm also the daughter…"
"Langston—" Jacqueline's voice sounded edgy as she warned her niece to tread lightly, with nothing more than the utterance of her name.
"It's all right, Jacqué. Lena knows who we are," Langston said, as if that explained everything. "I don't expect her to keep it from her wife."
"Who are you?" Now Bianca's curiosity was piqued.
"Ever heard of Lorcán Malloy?" Langston queried.
"The crime boss who was arrested a few weeks ago?"
"Yes," Langston confirmed. "He's my father."
"And Daněk Kováč is my father," Dani offered in the vein of self-disclosure.
Bianca heard the name, and immediately she felt empathy rise within her. "I heard he was killed shortly after he escaped," she said quietly. "I'm sorry for your loss, Dani."
"Thank you," Dani said softly. What else could she say? That he was a monster, and he deserved to die? That she hoped he rotted in hell?
As she was contemplating her feelings, or lack thereof, where her father was concerned, Dani noticed the expression on Langston's face. And then she knew. "Oh, my god. That's what you think this is about, don't you?
"What?" Langston replied, feigning ignorance.
"My father's position, his power," Dani said, voicing Langston's worst fear. "You think they're gunning for me because I'm a threat to their takeover."
"They, who?" Bianca asked.
"My father and my brother, Pearce," Langston answered.
"So I'm right," Dani said matter-of-factly.
"Unfortunately, yes," Langston sighed. "But again, I have no proof. Bottom line though, is we need to get off the grid," she declared, glancing around the room. "All of us. At least until I figure out how they found us here."
"I don't think that's necessary," Lena disagreed.
"None of us are safe out in the open like this," Langston argued. "Now that they've associated us with you, your family is at risk, and for that, I'm deeply sorry."
"There's no need to be sorry. And there's no need to run. My brother-in-law has security forces that are tighter than the Secret Service," Lena reported. "I'll ask him to put a detail on the house, no questions asked."
Langston nodded. "Thank you," she said, gratefully accepting the assistance. "I need to grab a few throw-away cell phones. Where's the nearest…"
Waving her hands, Lena stopped Langston mid-sentence. "There's no need. I'll have Zach send several with his men. I think it best if we all stay put for a while."
"I agree," Langston said. "But I need to get some answers—and fast."
Bianca was already on her cell, dialing Zach back in Pine Valley. When he answered, she placed him on speaker phone, and allowed Lena to explain what they needed. As expected, Zach's protective side was immediately in motion, and he assured them they would have a full security detail, and all the throw-away phones they needed within the hour. And when they were ready, a safe escort wherever they needed to go.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009… Bennett Thomas's Residence—6:00 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Doris Wolfe tapped the button atop her phone, listening for the "click" that would confirm it was securely locked. Her face held an expression of concern as she set it on the bedside table, and rolled toward Bennett. "Olivia isn't answering her phone," she said, sounding a bit troubled.
"Why on earth are you calling her at this ungodly hour, anyway?" Bennett queried. Her voice was still gruff from sleep. She yawned, and pressed a kiss to Doris's bare shoulder.
"We were supposed to meet for coffee this morning," Doris reported. "But apparently I have a campaign strategy meeting instead." Her campaign manager had woken her with a text announcing the meeting ten minutes prior. She sounded almost annoyed as she relayed the information to Bennett.
"Having second thoughts about running?" Bennett asked. Stretching her left arm, she bent it, propping her head against it as she contemplated her partner.
"No," Doris said forthrightly, as she mirrored Bennett's pose. "On the contrary… I'm looking forward to being the next Governor of the great State of Illinois," she countered in suitably political tone, a slight grin forming on her lips.
She had been approached about running for the office of Governor after the massive takedown of state officials a few weeks prior, and after several lengthy discussions with Bennett and their girls, she had decided to run. It would be a public service, after all, given that the hapless twit of a Lieutenant Governor who, by law, had taken over when the sitting Governor was arrested, was so deeply embedded in Alan Spaulding's back pocket that he would be picking lint from his teeth for the remainder of his term.
The most difficult part of the decision had been about which platform she would adopt, because while she couldn't imagine taking a stance against anything involving the LGBT community or women's rights, the remainder of her belief system was fundamentally conservative. She and her campaign manager were still trying to mesh the divergent elements into a cohesive campaign that would garner the votes of her constituents on both sides of the political spectrum, taking her to the Governor's mansion.
"You sound rather confident," Bennett said teasingly.
"What, you think I can't win?" Doris volleyed.
"Oh, I've no doubt you're going to win," Bennett answered.
Doris grinned, and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around Bennett's waist. "And then you'll be the First Lady of the State of Illinois," she announced, pressing a kiss to Bennett's mouth.
"Not exactly," Bennett disagreed. And then her expression turned curious. "Do you think they'll let the Governor shack up?"
Doris let out a hearty laugh. "I think they'll let the Governor do anything she damned well pleases."
Bennett gave her a look of reproach. "That's what got us into the political mess we're in right now."
Looking suitably contrite, Doris nodded. "You're right," she agreed. "We… I need to remain cognizant of that going forward."
Planting her palms on the mattress, Bennett slid upward until she was leaning against the headboard of their bed. "That is something we need to be thinking about though," she said, turning back to her previous comment. "Living arrangements."
"What, now?" Doris sounded confused. Sitting upright, she turned toward Bennett, awaiting a response.
Touching Doris's cheek, Bennett offered a reassuring smile. "I think we're good for now," she said. "I'm talking about once you've won the Governor's mansion."
"We've already discussed that," Doris said dismissively.
"Dismissing it with a comment about crossing bridges, is not discussing it, DJ," Bennett retorted, emphasizing the discussion part. "Now do you want to be with me or not, dammit?"
Stung, Doris flinched. "Why would you even ask such a thing?" she replied. It wasn't really a question. "You know I want you more than anything. Why else would I have involved you in the decision? I don't want the governorship, if it means I can't have you."
"Then how can you be so dismissive about something so important?" Bennett asked, sounding hurt.
"Because it's a non-issue for me," Doris answered forthrightly. "I intend to run my campaign as an out lesbian, so where I go, you go—and that includes the Governor's mansion. So we break protocol… Who cares?" she shrugged.
"Alan Spaulding will make a huge stink out of this," Bennett warned.
"Let him," Doris said fiercely. Never would she cower, especially not to the likes of Alan Spaulding.
"Ooh, I'd forgotten what a barracuda you can be when you're cornered," Bennett growled. Threading her fingers into the thick brown locks at the base of Doris's neck, she gathered her close, and kissed her. "I'm sorry for doubting you."
Leaning impossibly closer, Doris pressed another kiss to Bennett's mouth. "You're entitled to a lapse in judgment now and again," she declared. She sounded playful, but Bennett knew she meant it. "Just don't make a habit of it."
"You have my word," Bennett guaranteed, deepening the kiss. "Now, how long do we have?"
"As long as we need," Doris answered around Bennett's probing tongue. Her level of arousal was rising faster than the mercury in July. "The campaign can wait. I can't…"
Wednesday, July 8, 2009… The Hallway Outside the Emergency Waiting Room, Cedars Hospital—6:00 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Glancing at her phone as it buzzed in her hand, Olivia sighed. Sorry, Doris. I'll have to get back with you later, she thought, as she tapped button to extinguish the sound. Ordinarily, she would have taken Doris's call immediately, but this morning, she had far too much on her mind—and other phone calls, other conversations, that were much more important. None of them would be easy. But at this point, she had no choice. And so it was with a shaking hand, that she tapped her contacts icon, and began typing.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009… Company—6:00 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Frank Cooper snapped his antiquated flip-phone closed and dropped it on the slick wooden bar top with a weary sigh. He'd worked the nightshift, filling in for his lead detective for the fifth time in as many nights. He understood, all too well, that Langston needed the time away. And he didn't mind doing it. He figured it was good practice, being up all night, given that babies never tended to sleep through the night. At least that was the way it had been with Marina.
"Why so glum?" Buzz asked, as he swiped the bar top with a thick blue utility cloth. He tossed the cloth aside then, and set a steaming cup of black coffee down in front of his son. And then he stepped through the swinging door that led into the kitchen.
Furrowing his brow, Frank groused, "Natalia's not answering her phone."
Buzz glanced at his watch. "It's summertime, and it's still early," he noted, keeping up the conversation through the service window. "Maybe they slept in."
"Maybe," Frank muttered. But something didn't feel right.
"So why the early-morning call, anyway?" Buzz asked, sensing his son's unspoken concern. He reappeared through the swinging door, carrying a plate filled with bacon, eggs, and toast, setting it down in front of Frank.
"Thanks, Pop," Frank answered distractedly. He took a sip of his coffee and set the mug back on the bar.
"Well?" Buzz pressed.
"Well, what?" Frank took a bite of his scrambled eggs, chewing mindlessly.
"The call, Frank," Buzz reminded. He shook his head. "I think you need to lay off these midnight shifts."
"Sorry, Pop," Frank said contritely. "Furniture shopping," he finally supplied. "I need a crib and a few other things for Dantéa."
Just saying his baby girl's name made his heart smile. At this point in his life, he'd thought the possibility of more children was gone—and then Natalia had told him she was pregnant, and his whole world changed. "Natalia said she wanted to help pick them out."
"Oh," Buzz said, sounding surprised. "Well, that's nice. I guess that means you guys have worked some things out."
"I was the one who needed to work things out. I've been a real ass," Frank admitted.
"I won't argue with you there," Buzz said forthrightly.
"Gee. Thanks, Pop," Frank said dryly.
"Look, I'm glad things are better between the three of you," Buzz said sincerely. "This baby deserves the love of all three of her parents."
"I know," Frank sighed, accepting the inevitable—that Olivia Spencer was going to be his daughter's other mommy. "And that's how it'll be."
"Good," Buzz declared with that wide grin. "Now finish your breakfast. You have baby furniture to buy."
"Yeah, just as soon as I can get Natalia to answer her damned phone," Frank groused. He lifted the phone from the counter, but before he could dial it, it rang in his hand. The caller was the last person on earth he expected to hear from—especially at six in the morning. His hand shaking as he opened the phone, he tapped the receive button, and held his breath.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009… The Chapel, Cedars Hospital—6:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Physically exhausted and emotionally drained from countless hours of waiting and worrying, Olivia Spencer leaned forward in the front pew in the Chapel at Cedars Hospital. Releasing a weary sigh, she propped her elbows on her upper thighs, and buried her face in her hands. This was the last place she ever expected to find herself, and the last thing she ever thought she would be doing. Yet, here she was, and she couldn't imagine being anywhere else at a time like this. Except perhaps with Natalia—but that just wasn't an option. And so she closed her eyes, released another long, slow sigh, and did what she'd only done a handful of times in her entire life:
She prayed.
TBC in Chapter 18.3…