A/N: Thanks for the comments on chapter 3. The update is short today, but hopefully worth the read. *waves*

4. A Perfect Place to Cry

. . .

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Amanda ducked her head for a tentative, apologetic look at Olivia's face. She had taken to asking like that, as if Olivia might lash out in anger if confronted in a normal tone and a normal posture, after months of checking in with her at frequent intervals, regardless of the reaction. Olivia didn't recall snapping at her for the repeated inquiries, but perhaps she had, given Amanda's cautious approach now. "You've been pretty quiet since you and Tilly got home. Guess you're none too thrilled with your new role as mother-in-law, that it?"

"What?" For a moment Olivia honestly had no clue what Amanda was talking about. Then she remembered the announcement (and pictures) she'd been met with upon walking through the front door—Jesse and Jillian had eloped in a private bedroom ceremony, with Noah officiating—when her mind was still across town in Meg's brownstone, replaying all that had transpired. "Oh. No. I mean I'm not not thrilled about it. I do think we should be . . . mindful, though. It might not be the best thing to encourage."

Amanda pulled a dubious face, both lips puffed out in a pouty little frown. "Why? 'Cause we're scary queer ladies who're turning all our kids' friends into gaybies just like us?" She nudged Olivia's hip with her own, signaling that she was cracking a joke, though it was something they were aware of. The last thing they needed were a bunch of angry straight parents jumping down their throats, accusing them of having an agenda—a big fat gay one.

Luckily, Jillian's mom Jules was not the type.

"Not so much that. It's just that Jillian's been through a lot recently. Jesse too, for that matter. They're sweet, innocent little girls, but you know how things can manifest in kids' play. We've seen it before with Jilly. Remember the 'boobies game?'"

"How could I forget?" Amanda's sneer was genuine this time. She always got extra fired up over Jillian's mistreatment, probably because it had touched their children's lives in a way work-related cases did not. "Now there's the shit with her bastard father . . . "

There was murder in Amanda's eyes, and Olivia understood why. The bastard father had gotten away with it. Jules had shown up at the apartment a few hours ago to collect her daughter; the poor woman was distraught that the sexual abuse allegations she'd leveled against her ex had largely been ignored at the day's hearing, no doubt because Jillian wasn't present to testify, and the only "punishment" the man received was court mandated counseling. No jail time for fondling his little girl and using her small, tender body for the sexual gratification he lost in the divorce. No justice for Jilly, who would undoubtedly require a lifetime of therapy herself to undo all the damage her daddy had caused.

Olivia took that one personally too. But she wanted to steer Amanda away from the subject before she got any more heated. It wouldn't do either of them any good to get pissed about something they had no control over, and lately, Amanda's fuse had been even shorter than usual. She tried not to take it out on Olivia or the kids, but Olivia couldn't help wondering, worrying, what outlet she might discover—or rediscover—if it continued. "They're both just so fragile right now. I don't want anything to make it worse."

"Is it just the girls you're talking about?" Amanda asked lightly, piecing a hair aside from Olivia's forehead. She used it as an excuse to smooth the rest of the hair around it, a dark cloud momentarily passing over her features, the portend of a storm. "Or could it be that you're feeling a little fragile yourself? Something happen while y'all were out?"

A denial sprang to Olivia's lips, more from habit than the need to lie. Amanda always figured her out in the end, so there really wasn't much use in pretending to be fine. She would save them both a lot of time and headache if she fessed up now, rather than hiding the truth of her whereabouts that afternoon. It wasn't some big secret, anyway. "I . . . guess I kind of am, yeah. I, um, ended up stopping by to see Meg. We did, I should say. We caught her at home by herself, and she invited me and Tilly in for a bit."

Of all the reactions Olivia could have expected, Amanda retracting an arm from behind her shoulders wasn't one of them. "Oh," Amanda said, and draped the arm across her own lap, as if that had been the plan all along. "Okay . . . So, how'd that go? Not well, I take it, since you're just now mentioning it, huh?"

The accusation was minimal, no more than the flick of an eyebrow, but it stung a little, if Olivia were being completely honest. From that not-so-chance meeting in the graveyard to the phone call from Meg's daughter, Amanda had been the one who kept encouraging Olivia to hear her old friend out, to spend time with Meg while she still had the opportunity, to forgive. Why was she suddenly displeased, when that was exactly what Olivia had done?

"It was strange. Pretty uncomfortable at first. I hadn't planned to show up on her doorstep, you know what I mean? It sort of just happened. But I felt like I was intruding. And I tried not to let her see how pissed I was—or am, I guess. How much it all still hurts . . . " Olivia's voice faded, and she didn't attempt to get it back, because Amanda clearly hadn't heard a word she'd said. Or else simply didn't care. "Would you prefer I not talk about this," she asked in a tone that bordered on terse, "or . . . ?"

A faint, humorless smile curled the corner of Amanda's lips. She gave a single shake of her head, more of a snap to one side, accompanied by a light sniff. "Don't see where it'll make any difference."

"Excuse me?"

Amanda sighed. "Forget it."

"No, I really don't understand what's happening right now. Where is this attitude coming from?" Olivia turned in the bed so that her shoulder was against the headboard, instead of her back. She was fully facing her wife, who apparently did not intend to reciprocate, although she did sit forward, pushing away the comforter that swaddled her waist.

"Attitude? You want to talk to me about attitude? Christ, Liv, me'n the kids have been walking around on eggshells since— for months, just trying to make sure we don't upset you. You're not exactly in a position to criticize anyone's attitude."

Taken aback, Olivia could only blink rapidly for several seconds, processing what she'd heard. Or failing to, more like. She was aware she had been rather short with Amanda on occasion these past few, but this was the first time it had been brought to her attention that the kids were supposedly involved. Had she been too harsh with them lately? She didn't think so. If anything, she'd stuck up for them when Amanda was, in her opinion, too stern with the talks (which sounded to Olivia an awful lot like thinly veiled shouting) and the punishments.

"I'm not the one who treats them like they're in basic training. I'm surprised you haven't started making them respond with 'yes, drill sergeant!' after everything you say. I think I saw Sammie salute you from her crib the other day."

"At least I don't go around bawling and having panic attacks every five seconds," Amanda snapped. She sucked in a breath immediately, as if trying to suck the words back into her mouth. Unfortunately for both of them, it didn't work, nor had it slowed her momentum: "Which one do you think is gonna screw 'em up more in the long run, babydoll—discipline or instability?"

Olivia wanted to hurl back something equally as hurtful, but Amanda had her there. If their children grew up to be neurotic, anxiety-ridden basket cases, she would have no one to blame but herself. She thought of Tilly clinging so fiercely to her when they first arrived at Meg's brownstone, and all the fight left her. She wouldn't cry, though; she flat-out refused, swallowing the burning sensation in the back of her throat until she could speak without a catch in her voice.

"I still don't understand why you're so upset with me," she said, barely above a whisper. Her shoulder throbbed where it pressed into the unrelenting headboard, but she doubted she could move it, even if she tried. Her muscles were stiff, poised for flight, unable to take it. When your fight or flight response was gone, freeze became the only option. That and fawn, but God, she was so sick of that one. "I thought you wanted—"

"Because you didn't even ask me! You just went there without saying a word and took our daughter with you. What if something had happened and I didn't know where you were? How to get to you?" After the initial explosion, which made Olivia start, Amanda began to lose steam with each rebuke. She visibly wilted, looking like a drooping sunflower, elbows balanced on her knees, head hung low. Her volume faded until it was closer to Olivia's. "You gotta— you gotta run stuff by me at least, Liv, before you just go off and—" She gave an aimless swish of her hand, then dropped it on the comforter like it was too heavy for her wrist. "I only want to know you're safe. And to be there for you when things are bad. That's all I want."

"I didn't realize I had to ask your permission," Olivia said thinly, more out of guilt than annoyance at the implication that Amanda somehow controlled her. It wasn't jealousy or selfishness that had set her wife off; it was fear for Olivia's safety, for her tenuous hold on: happiness, reality, life—take your pick. Amanda was trying to keep her from falling apart. "I'm sorry. I wasn't purposely keeping it a secret from you, though, love. I really did just end up there on the spur of the moment. I should have called you—"

"No. It's not—" Amanda sighed again, but her frustration appeared to be directed inward this time, not out at Olivia. She propped her elbow on her knee, her forehead on her palm. "You don't owe me updates every five minutes. I don't wanna be that guy. But it makes me kinda crazy not knowing where you are. Even after the fact, apparently."

"I know." Olivia squeezed the hand that rested on Amanda's other knee. "I'm sorry."

Amanda turned so that her cheek met the cushion of her palm. The ghost of a smile, albeit a sad one, touched her pale pink lips. "Me too." And after a while spent holding Olivia's hand and weaving their fingers in and out of intricate patterns, she returned to the topic that started the whole mess, gently now: "She as bad off as Maya said?"

The sinuous, sensual gliding of Amanda's fingers, tracing and retracing her own, slowly began to lower Olivia's defenses, as if each were a perfectly smooth key (no teeth for biting) unlocking the chambers of her heart. Making it possible for her to pour out its contents. She told all of it then, from the initial awkwardness of her arrival to forgiving Meg practically on the spot to how well Tilly had taken to the older woman, at least once Olivia's resentment got out of the way; she detailed meeting the wife, who returned home from a doctor's appointment to relieve the private care nurse just as Olivia was trying to escape undetected, but not the daughter, a nurse herself and always on call. For a while she even reminisced about some of her best—and worst—times with Meg and Serena, before the rift that, for the most part, was her fault. Their friendship had been destroyed because of an argument about Olivia.

When she finally reached the end, unaware that she had been talking nonstop for nearly an hour, only that her mouth was dry, her voice strained, and her head throbbing, she released the last little bit on a sigh: "She's going to die, Amanda. I just got her back, and she's going to die. Why do people always have to leave?"

Now she cried, despite her vow not to from moments ago. Amanda was right—she did cry too often and much too easily, and it needed to stop, at least in front of the kids. But the kids were asleep and Amanda's arms were around her, so maybe that promise to toughen up could wait for another day.

"Aw hey, baby. You don't know that for sure. That she's gonna die. People beat cancer all the time. She seems like a real strong lady, from what I saw of her. She could still pull through." Amanda crooned the comforting lies in Olivia's ear, smoothing and kissing the hair that covered it, and damned if it didn't soothe her, truth or not. She would probably believe anything Amanda told her if she told it like this. "And don't let those other folks get to you, darlin'. Anyone who could walk away from you is a damn fool. Hey." She lifted Olivia's chin lightly. "I'm no fool. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are our kids. So stop your frettin', you hear?"

Olivia nodded, using the motion to nuzzle further into the crook of Amanda's neck, sinking deeper into her embrace. There was a big cruel world outside—one where mothers were sometimes the enemy, where old friends got cancer and didn't survive, where children lost their innocence at the hands of someone they trusted—but tonight she was here, wrapped up in Amanda, and it felt like the safest place on earth.

. . .