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, Ava Peralta and her late son, Max Harlan Lewis, Frank Cooper, Ashlee Wolfe, Mel Boudreau, and Alan Spaulding, are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena Kundera, Bianca Montgomery, and Zach Slater 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, Commander Marc Daniels and his second-in-command, Agent Shaw, Dantéa (Téa) Rivera, and Dr. Valerie Blaine 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 exception of Cedars Hospital (in general), the settings, dialogue, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Author's Ramblings: I do appreciate your patience, and I'm truly sorry this one has taken so long. It's not as lengthy as I would've liked, but given all the inquiries I've been receiving, I wanted to get you all something as quickly as possible.
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. Due to the rush to get you all this update, however, this content has not been edited. Thus, any mistakes contained herein are solely my responsibility. 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: This section of Chapter 18 is rated PG-13 for coarse language. Read: Olivia Spencer is super pissed, and she doesn't give a shit who she offends. This will likely continue into the next update, as well.
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 18.3 – What Price We Pay:
Wednesday, July 8, 2009… The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—9:45 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
True to his word, Zach Slater dispatched a security detail that rivaled that of the Secret Service, and within the hour, the team arrived at the cottage ready to serve and protect. Swiftly, they swept the cottage and surrounding landscape, identified areas of potential access, and sealed them off. And then Commander Marc Daniels approached Langston, assessing her with a keen eye. "I understand you're a detective, and that you've had extensive training in covert ops," he said, as easily as if he'd been inquiring about that morning's surf report.
Clean-cut, tall and lean, and dressed impeccably in a designer suit, he looked every bit the part of a former operative. That, in and of itself, incited both confidence and respect in Langston. A single nod of her head accompanied her response. "Yes, Commander," she answered formally. She hadn't functioned in that capacity for a number of years, but the training never failed her in a tight situation.
"Are you armed, Detective Malloy?" the Commander asked.
Langston shook her head. "Langston, please," she said, granting familiarity. "And no, not for this." The only weapon she had with her was the Glock Dani bought her back in college—the one she'd lost the night she was shot. She had been surprised when, a few days after the incident, Chief Cooper summoned her to a private meeting in a dilapidated auto shop over on Fifth Street. To her knowledge, much of that area had been burned to the ground a number of years before, and subsequently rebuilt, but the old shop stood as a reminder of what Fifth Street once was—a throwback to the past.
"Chief?" she called out, as she stepped through a narrow doorway at the side of the shop. It was marred by the passage of time, and it creaked loudly as she pushed it open, but it was solid enough to keep vandals out.
"In here, Malloy," Frank called out from behind a makeshift partition.
Langston stepped around, her eyes widening at the sight of Frank Cooper in a tattered ball cap and matching dark gray coveralls that bore a trademark mechanic's patch with his name on it. Streaked with grease and sweat, he was bent over a Harley, socket wrench in hand, as he tinkered with the engine. "My bike!" she exclaimed. "How did you…"
"Would you grab me that 5/8ths socket?" he requested, motioning toward the toolbox on the bench nearby without taking his eyes off the engine. He knew instinctively that she wouldn't need further instruction. Anyone who rode a bike of this caliber knew exactly how to maintain it.
"Sure thing." Taking two steps toward the bench, she fished the socket from its slot, tossing it toward him.
"Thanks," he grunted noncommittally as he snatched it from the air with his free hand. Swapping the socket out, he pocketed the original, and attached the wrench to another bolt. The familiar click, click, click, pause, click, click, click of the ratchet echoed in the practically empty space as he tightened the bolt that held the engine block to the frame.
And when he was finished, he looked up, meeting Langston's astonished gaze. "I was a mechanic before I became a cop," he said simply, as he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of one hand. There was a streak of grease across his left cheek that said he'd done the same there at some point that afternoon. "Used to chop cars, actually," he grinned ruefully.
Leaning against the rickety countertop, Langston crossed her arms beneath her breasts, and grinned. He never ceased to surprise her. "I never would've guessed."
"Yeah, well, I don't exactly go around broadcasting it," he grinned.
Langston laughed. "I can understand why."
"Gorgeous piece of machinery," he commented, gesturing toward her Harley. "I cleaned up the dents and scratches, and made sure the engine wasn't damaged."
"Thanks," she said, almost sheepishly. It was the one constant reminder that she came from money—dirty money—and oftentimes that still really bothered her. Just… not quite enough for her to part with that bike. "How did you end up with it?"
Grabbing a shop towel from the bench near the toolbox, he wiped his hands clean—at least as clean as he could get without a generous helping of Goop®. And then he tucked the towel into the back pocket of his coveralls. "It's not the only thing I ended up with," he said a bit cryptically.
Langston watched him with a curious eye, as he moved toward the counter. He fished a set of keys from his front pocket, and reached for the dented lockbox at the back edge of the wooden counter, pulling it toward him. Grasping the lock, he slipped a key inside, turning it to release the latch. And then he reached inside, revealing a handgun—the Glock Langston had been carrying the night she was shot.
Once again caught off-guard, Langston's mouth dropped open. "Chief—"
"You might want to keep a better handle on this," Frank said, as he turned the gun over to its rightful owner. His tone was kind, yet firm, and she understood it for what it was: a direct order.
"Yes, Sir," Langston quickly acquiesced. "But… I don't understand how…"
She paused, mid-sentence, as the memories of that night came flooding back to her. "Oh, my god, it was you!" she exclaimed. "You were there the night I was shot. You… and that semi… blocked the hailstorm of bullets. And then you peeled me from the pavement, and took me to Dani's hotel room…"
A simple nod was Frank's response.
Sobered, Langston gulped. How did he know where she was? How did he know she was in trouble? How did he even know about Dani? Let alone, where to find her? The questions pummeled her faster than she could think. But the one thing that stood out was the fact that he had rescued her. "You saved my life, Chief," she said, emotion evident in her tone.
"And I'd do it again," Frank said forthrightly. "But I'd rather hope that won't be necessary."
"Ten-four," Langston said with a wobbly grin.
They fell silent then, both of them contemplative. Langston shuffled a foot, her boot scuffing against the gritty concrete floor. "You can't tell me how you knew, can you?"
Frank shook his head. "No, Malloy, I can't," he answered. To do so would be to sacrifice the greater good, and they both knew he never would. "But just know that I'll always have your back—all of you."
"Thank you, Sir," Langston said sincerely.
Nodding, Frank acknowledged her appreciation. "Just… next time, could you give me a little heads-up when you think there's gonna be movement?" he requested. "We don't need you getting shot again."
Langston grinned ruefully. "Sure thing, Chief."
And with that, their conversation was over. Frank had revealed himself as an ally, and Langston was assured she and her family would be protected. That was all that was necessary.
Back in the present, Langston was drawn away from the conversation by the sound of Commander Daniels' voice, as he continued his assessment of their situation. He was across the room, peeking out of the portal his team had left, allowing them to survey the beach without being seen. "We'll get you outfitted, just in case; but I'd prefer it if you'd leave the heavy lifting to my team."
"Understood," Langston acquiesced. She wasn't one to let others fight her battles, and being left out of the action went against her instincts, but her family was her priority right now, and she would gladly stand down if it meant making sure they were protected.
Dani bounded into the room, offering Langston a smile. "Hey, Gorgeous," she said sweetly. Flinging her arms around Langston's neck, she kissed her soundly, before noticing the Commander in the room. The quiet clearing of his throat alerted her that they weren't alone, and her face flushed with a touch of bashfulness.
Langston grinned at the expression on her wife's face. "Hey, Love," she greeted in return. Deliberately, she drew Dani closer, wrapping an arm securely around her waist. "Where's McKenna?"
"She's with Jacqué," Dani answered, her hand coming to rest in the center of Langston's chest. "They're playing in the girls' room."
"Good," Langston said. "That room is probably safest," she noted. It was the center room on the western side of the cottage, with no direct line of sight from either the beach or the roadway.
"I agree," Marc said, deference for Langston's assessment evident in his tone.
"Who knew you were here?" Langston asked Dani, as she moved from her side, and began pacing the floor.
"Just… you, Mariana…" Dani shrugged and shook her head, indicating she was at a loss.
"You didn't tell anyone from work?"
"I told them I was taking some time away," Dani answered. "But I never told anyone where I was going, or who I was going with."
Stopping, Langston planted her hands on her hips, and nodded. "Okay," she sighed, thinking they were back at square one.
"Who is Mariana?" Marc inquired in that moment of stillness.
"Oh, she's our nanny," Dani reported. "She's not a threat. She's been with my family since I was a little girl."
Marc looked unconvinced. "She would never betray us, Commander," Langston assured. "She's had our backs since we were kids. Even more so once we were teenagers, and involved romantically. She didn't rat us out even when her job was in jeopardy."
Nodding, Marc accepted her at her word. "What about you, Langston?" he asked. "Who knew you were headed out here?"
"My Chief," Langston answered. "One of Lena and Bianca's friends—Um, Natalia, I think, is her name." She looked to Dani for confirmation, and Dani nodded. "Uh, Phillip Spaulding, and… his pilot."
"You trust your Chief?" Marc inquired.
"Implicitly," Langston answered without hesitation.
"And what about this friend—Natalia?"
Langston glanced at Dani for input. "Natalia's trustworthy," Dani assured. Everything about the woman told her the woman wasn't a threat.
"And Spaulding?" Marc pressed.
"Phillip I trust," Langston said with conviction. "His father, on the other hand…"
"Oh, my god!" Dani exclaimed. "Alan…" She cringed at the mere thought of him.
"Exactly," Langston concurred.
"That snake would sell his own mother down the river if she weren't already dead," Dani remarked. She knew, only too well, how dangerous that man could be. His treachery was second only to that of her own father—and perhaps Lorcán Malloy.
"Maybe taking the Spaulding jet wasn't the best idea," Langston admitted in retrospect.
"Well, wherever you go from now until we get this under control, you'll be on a Cambias jet," Marc reported. "And no one other than my team and our pilot will know you're aboard."
"We can't keep running," Langston said firmly. "But we do need to make sure Lena, Bianca, and their girls are safe."
"I can assure you, they will be," Marc said with certainty. "Mr. Slater has another team waiting at the airport to escort them home. Our goal today is to get you all out of here safely. Then we'll regroup, and figure out who's behind this."
"I can't thank you enough, Commander," Langston said. "Let us know when you're ready to move?"
Marc nodded an acknowledgement of her appreciation. "Will do," he said. "In the meantime, check in with Shaw. She'll get you suited up. I have strict orders to make sure you don't get shot again."
Brow furrowed, Langston started to ask, "How did you…"
"It's my job to know, Detective," the Commander said forthrightly.
"Understood, Sir," Langston said with a sense of finality. And with that, she turned on her heel, and went in search of Shaw, Dani following quickly behind her.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009… Emergency Waiting Room, Cedars Hospital—7:15 a.m. Central Daylight Time
"Rafe!"
The sound of Ashlee's tear-filled voice drew Rafe from the fear, the panic, and the inexplicable sense of grief that had gripped him the moment he saw the expression on the doctor's face. Instinctively, he knew that life would never be the same again. Glancing upward, he met her gaze, his own face streaked with tears. He didn't say a word as she sat down beside him, taking his hand into her own, their fingers intertwining.
"Why didn't you call me sooner?" she asked, her voice filled with concern for him. "You didn't have to go through this all alone."
"I'm not completely alone," Rafe sniffed, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. "Olivia and Frank are around here somewhere."
"Well, they're not doing you any good right now, are they?" Ashlee sounded incredulous as she stroked his dark wavy hair. There was something unexpectedly fierce about her in the way she protected him, and it never occurred to either of them to question it.
"Don't be mad at them," Rafe said. "They're upset about what I told the doctor. And honestly, I don't blame them."
"What did you say?" Ashlee asked with a sense of urgency evident in her tone.
Haunted by the sting of his own words, Rafe's memories drew him back to an hour prior, when the doctor finally made an appearance in the waiting room, Olivia and Frank, in tow…
Wednesday, July 8, 2009… Emergency Waiting Room, Cedars Hospital—6:15 a.m. Central Daylight Time
"So we're at a crossroads right now."
Delivered after a lengthy explanation of Natalia's current medical status—and the underlying medical condition that had led to her emergency admission to the hospital—both of which went way over everyone's heads, Dr. Valerie Blaine's statement fell on anxious ears. The anger and fear in Olivia Spencer's eyes was palpable, and Val wouldn't have blamed her if she screamed—or even if she threw things. She'd had to threaten Olivia to get her out of the trauma bay so that she could do a thorough examination. And now, she was facing her again, this time with news that was certain to shake the formidable hotelier to her core.
"How could you miss this?" Olivia demanded accusingly. Her irrational mind screamed incompetence, but reason said otherwise. Dr. Blaine had been her obstetrician when she was pregnant with Emma, and she had been wonderful. That's why she'd entrusted Natalia and their unborn child to her. "She's been under your care from the moment we found out she was pregnant."
Nodding, Dr. Blaine swept loose tendrils of ash blonde hair behind her left ear, and sighed softly. This was the part of medicine she detested—the element of the unknown. "The symptoms of her condition aren't noticeable unless you know to look for them, Olivia," she attempted to explain. "And without a complete family medical history…"
"I don't want excuses, dammit, I want answers!" Olivia snapped. "And I wanna know what you're going to do about this."
"I know this is difficult, Olivia," Dr. Blaine said, placing a caring hand on the hotelier's shoulder. She was equally as worried about Olivia's heart as she was about Natalia and their unborn child. "But I don't have any answers. At least not the ones you want."
"Then what do you have?" Olivia demanded.
"Bottom line?" Dr. Blaine replied, seeking assent to give it to them straight.
Olivia nodded. Frank offered a grunt of approval.
"If we don't deliver the baby immediately, we risk losing them both," Dr. Blaine said forthrightly. "The longer we wait, the higher the risk."
A strangled whimper escaped Rafe's tight lips, and he buried his head in his hands, daring the tears to come. Why was this happening? What had his mother ever done to deserve this?
"But it's too early," Olivia said on a strangled whisper. Experience told her it was true, and the depths of her fear were evident in her tone.
Realizing Olivia was right, Frank felt the weight of their situation settle on his shoulders, burdening his entire body. "What about my daughter?" he asked, tears flooding his blue eyes. Helplessly, he leaned against the wall, and grabbed the railing to steady himself, afraid his legs might fail him.
"We're pushing steroids to stimulate lung development, and we've called in the top neonatologist in the country," Dr. Blaine announced. "We'll do everything in our power…" God, even saying the words made her feel powerless.
"But?" Frank pressed. Tightening his jaw, he stiffened for her response.
Dr. Blaine's face took on a sorrowful expression, her heart heavy in her chest. "I'm sorry, Chief Cooper," she said compassionately, her dark eyes filled with empathy as she shook her head; "Her chances aren't good."
Those weren't words that she ever wanted to say to an expectant parent, let alone three of them in only a few short hours. But the truth was the baby was far too early, too under-developed, to survive. Only a miracle would save her.
Olivia's heart was torn in two. She loved that baby. She'd wanted her from the moment Natalia realized she was pregnant. And the thought of losing their daughter was more than her heart could bear, especially given the loss of her grandson, Max, shortly after his birth. That loss was still so raw at times, Ava's absence from Springfield being an almost constant reminder.
But right or wrong, she loved Natalia more, and she wouldn't willingly sacrifice her for anything—or anyone. "Do what you have to do to save Natalia," she finally said, tears of grief streaking down her face.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Frank snarled, accusation in his tone. "You have no right…"
"Fuck you, Frank," Olivia growled, her sense of grief overwhelming. "You heard what the doctor said. We'll lose them both."
"What, so we just cut our losses, and move on?" Frank snapped.
A bitter argument ensued between the two of them, both posturing for some semblance of control in a situation where there was no control to be found. Frank knew Olivia was right, but reason didn't stop the anguish in his heart. What he didn't understand, not yet anyway, was that Olivia's anguish rivaled his own.
As the tension mounted between them, Dr. Blaine turned toward Rafe. "What would you like us to do, Mr. Rivera?" she asked with urgency in her tone, shocking both Olivia and Frank back into their senses. "We don't have much time to act now."
"What?" Rafe stammered. "Why are you asking me?"
"Because Natalia is unconscious, so legally, you're the one who has to make the decision," Dr. Blaine explained. "You're the next of kin."
Olivia erupted into a rage. "I'm her partner for Christ's sake!" she screamed, emphasizing the intimate nature of her relationship with Natalia.
"I understand that, Olivia. And I don't mean to trivialize your relationship," Dr. Blaine said gently. "You know that." She had been nothing but respectful of their relationship from the moment Olivia introduced Natalia as her partner, and as she'd gotten to know Natalia throughout the pregnancy, she'd come to realize that Natalia was a perfect match for the formidable Olivia Spencer. But the law was the law, and she couldn't sidestep it, even for Olivia. "But unless you have medical Power of Attorney…"
Choking back the sobs, Rafe shook his head adamantly. All he could hear was the echo of the doctor's words, talking about things he didn't want to hear—like his mother's uterus, her placenta, and the obscure hereditary medical condition that now placed her life, and the life of his baby sister, at risk. He hated what he had to say, but he had no choice but to say it—to say otherwise would be to smite God and summon His wrath. "The Catholic Church says we can't sacrifice the life of one to save the other. We just… we have to let God's will be done."
He barely choked out the words before he began to vomit profusely.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009… Emergency Room Parking Lot, Cedars Hospital—6:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Exiting the emergency waiting room into the parking lot, Olivia Spencer let out a raucous scream, followed by a string of expletives so coarse they would've made a sailor blush, as she hurled her half-empty coffee cup against the side wall of the hospital. It smashed against the sandy-colored brick, the dark, lukewarm liquid cascading down the wall as the cup dropped unceremoniously to the ground.
"Let God's will be done? Are you fucking serious?" she fumed, as she paced the asphalt outside the emergency entrance. She cursed some more, as she reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulling her phone out. Frantically, she searched for Mel Boudreau's number in her contacts. There had to be something she could do!
She was midway through a rambling message to her attorney when Frank came barreling through the door, chasing after her. "What the hell are you up to?" he demanded. He knew it was something, and it wasn't likely good—at least not for his daughter.
"I'm calling Mel," Olivia snapped, covering the phone with her hand.
"What, are you gonna try to buy off a judge?" Frank asked accusingly.
"Fuck you, Frank," Olivia growled, not for the first time that morning.
"Knock it off, Olivia. You're not the only one who's hurting here. You're just pissed because you're not getting what you want," Frank hurled.
Delivered on a snarl, Frank's accusation only served to piss Olivia off more. "What I want, you narrow-minded jackass, is for both Natalia and our daughter to be okay!" she screeched.
"You think I don't want that too?" Frank actually sounded hurt. "Dammit, Olivia, I love them both, just like you do."
Realizing they were on the same page, just perhaps on a different paragraph, Olivia softened. "I know," she huffed, leaning against a concrete pillar. "We're just…"
"Faced with an impossible situation?" Frank supplied. His tone was almost grief-stricken.
"Yes…" Olivia sighed. And then she remembered she had Mel's voicemail practically on hold. She lifted her phone again, saying, "Listen, just call me, okay? As quickly as possible. We don't have the luxury of time here." And with that, she terminated the call.
Pushing away from the pillar, she began to pace again. "I hate this, Frank," she said, anger rising in her tone again. "I fucking hate it."
"Maybe you should've thought about that before you fucked Natalia senseless the other day," Frank said accusingly, referring to what he'd witnessed when he walked in on them at the farmhouse.
Olivia's neck snapped toward him, and jade eyes turned black with anger as they met his in a menacing glare. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Frank reiterated, making certain his intent was loud and clear. "And don't try to argue that this was just some genetic bullshit. I saw what you were doing to her—and what you were doing it with."
"Fuck you," Olivia exhaled, unable to believe he'd had the audacity to actually say something so disgusting. Deep down inside, she knew it wasn't true. She'd heard what Dr. Blaine said about Natalia's medical condition. How she'd likely inherited it from her mother, and how there was nothing they could have done to prevent this from happening.
Still, his words burned in her soul like hellfire. Jade eyes flooded with tears.
Shoving past him, she nearly knocked him to the ground, as she rushed back inside in search of Rafe. Now, more than anything, she needed to convince him to do the right thing… for his mother and for her, of course, but mostly, for himself. She knew in the end, regardless of his reasons for inaction, if anything happened to his mother, Rafe would never, ever forgive himself.
TBC in Chapter 18.4…
Author's Note: Again, my apologies for taking so long to update. As you might well imagine, this particular part of the story has been kind of emotional to write, and will likely continue to be, as we move forward. Thus, I've distracted myself with a little fluff piece involving the WayHaught fandom from the Syfy series Wynonna Earp. Please know that just because I'm writing a bit for them, I am not in any way intending to abandon either Confessions or Snapshots. Once this section of Confessions is complete, I will resume posting on Snapshots, as well. You all have my word that both stories will be followed to completion, without any loss in terms of the quality of the storyline. Again, I am so thankful for your continued interest in my stories, and as always, I appreciate your kind words and support.
Warmly—
Kim