AN: I had to let this chapter be solely about Olivia. She needed to get somethings out. I'm working on a more Fitz centric chapter now. We'll see more of what he's gonna do next and look at that threat from Mellie. This story is heavy so thanks for letting me write my other one to decompress. -Key
The house was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that each tick of the hand clock over the kitchen sink sounded like the bang of London's Big Ben. Olivia lay between her parents, unable to deny the safety and security their presence brought her. It'd been years since she'd crawled into bed to seek shelter with them, chin tucked in the crook of her mother's neck while her father rubbed her back in soft circles. Back then it was usually a bad dream that led Olivia to seek solace between them. Now it was her memories. Ever since confessing to her mother what she held onto all these years, Olivia couldn't stop replaying the event over in her head. She could hear her voice pleading with him to stop. She could feel the pressure on her legs. While it was a relief that her mother and now father finally knew, it was a piece of Pandora's box. Everything was out in the open.
"We should probably eat something," Maya whispered. Her voice cut through the orange haze that held over the Pope home. She reached over and patted Olivia's hip.
"I'm not hungry," Olivia spoke.
"I'm not that hungry either," Eli chimed in. The Pope patriarch had been eerily quiet since he returned home. Unable to tell her father what happened, Olivia gave her mother permission to do so when he stumbled upon them side by side in their bedroom.
"I know neither of you are, which is precisely why you need to eat. Come on now. Get up," Maya insisted.
Olivia lifted her head but found it hard to turn and face her father. They'd always had a rocky relationship. He was inexhaustibly hard on Olivia. She expected it was because he always wanted a son and here she was, a daughter. Because of this, Olivia spent the majority of her twenty-nine years trying to prove to her father that she was good enough. Somehow, though, she always felt like she fell short.
Matter of fact, the only time she had felt like she was enough, was when she'd gotten into Yale. If she closed her eyes hard enough, she could still hear her father telling her just how proud he was. When she returned home, poised to tell him and her mother why she was walking away from her dream school, before she could even get the words out, he'd called her a quitter. He was disappointed in her. The shame from what Jake had done to her was still acute; her father's reaction was just another stab wound.
"Come on, both of you," Maya repeated.
Olivia slid off the bed and into her slippers. She felt raw. Cut open. On display. Even though she couldn't see her father's face, she knew he was staring at her. "Okay," she huffed, fiddling with the drawstrings of the Georgetown hoodie draped over her. Maya nodded and walked out of the room. Olivia moved to follow her but was stopped short by her father's voice.
"Olivia, can I talk to you for a moment," he asked.
It took everything in Olivia to not bolt. She nodded, still not turning around.
"Will you turn around? I don't want to talk to the back of your head."
She took a deep breath in before pivoting in place. Still, she couldn't lift her gaze. "Yeah, dad?"
"Look at me, please."
Olivia shook her head. "I...I know. I didn't. I—" Each word seemed to fall by the wayside, unable to string together to make some form of sense. It was coming; her father's disappointment. He was going to tell her again how she'd failed. "I know you would've preferred if I stayed a virgin forever," she finally mumbled. It was a poor attempt at levity. "No father wants to hear his daughter had sex."
"No. Do not mistake what happened to you as sex. That was a violation of bodily autonomy. That was — what this boy did to you was…" Eli's said.
The tone of his voice prompted Olivia to lift her head. She'd never seen her father cry nor show much of any other emotion than disappointment. Olivia's eyes started to water. Much like the rest of the day, she was at a loss for words. Each time she tried to say something, she fumbled. Right now she didn't know if she should comfort her father or run away. All she could do was wait for him to voice his disappointment; the fact that he expected her to be better; be invincible; be…
"I know. I should've stayed at Yale. I should've done more. I should've fought harder. I had the chance. Twice as good. Half as much. I have to be better. I have to be stronger. I have — " Everything that had been in her head since childhood came pouring out. She couldn't stop it. All of his expectations. The box was getting tired. She felt like she couldn't breath. "I'm weak. I've always been weak. I needed to do better. I needed to be better. Better. I was supposed to be better. I'm a disappointment. I'm weak. It's my fault. I'm —"
"Stop. Right now. Stop it!" Eli demanded, cutting her off. His voice grew louder. "I'm not disappointed in you. I' — why would you say something like that? It's not your fault. Not at all. Don't…"
"Twice as good. I have to be twice. Twice. You said that. It's why you don't — why you've always wanted a son. I'm a disappointment. I always have been." She couldn't stop speaking. She couldn't let it go. The anxiety washed over her in waves. She'd been holding all of this for an eternity. Now that it was out, she couldn't find the stop button. "I couldn't protect myself. I couldn't handle it and I messed up. I failed. Twice. I let him hurt me and I —" Salt water seeped between her lips; she was crying — again.
"This is why you waited so long to tell us? This is why you… Livvie," Eli whispered. He stepped forward, extending his arms. Before Olivia knew what was happening, her father's arms were around her. Eli pulled her tight. Much like she'd fallen apart on her mother hours ago, she now fell apart on her father.
Nearly an hour and a half later, Olivia sat at the dining room table, pushing spaghetti around her plate. Water rolled down her shoulders from her wet curls. After her father calmed her down, she'd taken a shower and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from highschool. Her parents hadn't changed her room since graduation.
"Eat, baby," Maya encouraged.
Olivia nodded, spearing a few noodles. Feelings of guilt and even embarrassment still swirled around in her stomach. She couldn't stop thinking about Fitz and couldn't look into her parents eyes. She lifted the fork to her lips.
The sound of metal scratching against porcelain filled the air. For several minutes, they all ate in silence. No one spoke.
Eli was the first to disrupt the quiet. "Do you know who hurt you?"
The question caught Olivia off-guard, causing her to realize that the only people who knew who had hurt her were those involved and Abby. "It doesn't matter," she answered, wanting to add that it never did. At least that's how it felt. While she hadn't made it a habit to check for Jake, she had spent the last few years keeping track of him, afraid that she'd run into him when she least expected it. Fortunately for her - or unfortunately - he'd spent the last few years on an upward climb. Not only was he married to Vanessa Rockland, the heir to a New York City based communications firm, but he'd already become a Junior partner at Jones Day. He had everything.
"It does matter," Eli responded. "I want to know who hurt my daughter so that I can hurt them."
"Dad, stop," Olivia spoke.
"Your dad's right, Livvie. Do you know who did this to you?"
"I was drinking and he's a trust fund kid. It doesn't matter."
"It does," Maya and Eli said at the same time. "He deserves to pay," Eli added.
Olivia dropped her fork on her plate. She already didn't have an appetite. Now she was sick to her stomach. "Dad, you were the first person to tell me that men like J-this were never punished. What's the point of it all? So my name can get dragged through the mud? So they can pull out anyone I've slept with and parade them around for the world to see? It doesn't matter," she repeated. "I just want to - I don't want to talk about it anymore. Please don't make me sorry I told you!"
"Don't give me a name then, but I'll find him." Eli pulled the napkin from his lap, tossed it on his half ate plate, and stood abruptly. "I'll find him and then I won't have to worry about the courts."
Olivia opened her mouth, ready to ask her father to calm down, but didn't get the chance. He broke away from the table and stormed from the room. Seconds later, the sound of the front door slamming behind him rang loud.
"Mom, do something about him." She looked at Maya.
"Baby, I don't disagree with him. You have to give us a minute to sort this out. I know it happened to you, but your dad and I need a moment to process this. Something happened to you that you didn't feel comfortable telling us. You've walked around with this and you didn't think you could tell us. That's on us. Just let your dad sort be. I'll stop him from doing anything stupid."
Somehow her mother's words didn't suffice. "He isn't here in D.C. The guy. He's not here."
"Well, that makes me feel better. Are you - have you gotten - what about therapy?"
Olivia smiled. Her smile was watery. "You and dad put me into therapy years ago." Which was the partial truth and a slight joke. It was a bad case loss and a near firing that put Olivia into therapy. It was her parents that kept her there. "But I am."
"Have you ever gone to rape crisis counseling?"
The word on her mother's tongue made Olivia flinch. She shook her head. It wasn't something that was on her list of things to do. Going now just seemed foolish. "It didn't happen yesterday, it happened—"
"It doesn't matter, Livvie. You told me yourself that you haven't healed. Maybe going to a meeting is the first step."
"I need to apologize to Fi-I need to talk to someone first," Olivia decided. "Maybe then I'll be able to focus on healing."
"Heal first. Apologize later."