Chapter 5: The Winds of Change

Silence reigned in the warm living room as the Barba family waited for the matriarch's next words. Every single being in the room, the little dog included, was hooked on Olivia's story.

"After all these years, I can feel that necklace closing around my throat like a dog collar. I can still feel its weight. If you could have felt it, not just seen it…" Olivia's wrinkled hand was at her throat, still feeling the ghost of the necklace's weight there.

Her granddaughter Rose sniffled, her blue eyes glistening with tears. "Grandma, were you really going to jump overboard and kill yourself? Before Grandpa stopped you, I mean?"

Olivia met Rose's tearful gaze, a small smile lilting across her lips. "Sadly, yes. That was the plan. The only way to escape the dreadful future awaiting me, or so I thought." Turning to Rafael, her smile widened exponentially. "My dear Rafa changed my life that night."

Rafael beamed back at her. His hair had gone completely white with age, his skin thin and wrinkled, but in Olivia's eyes, he was as handsome and youthful as the day they met.

Watching his parents carefully, Noah thought about the love they shared his entire life. They were made for each other and getting this insight into how they came to be together touched a place deep in his old heart. Theirs was the kind of love people searched for their whole lives.

"Whatever happened to the Heart of the Ocean, Gigi?" their youngest great grandson asked curiously. "Did it sink with the Titanic?"

"Getting right to the heart of the matter," Rafael chuckled. "Thatta boy."

"Well, we are all dying to know, Dad," Noah chimed in.

Steerage men on the deck stopped what they were doing to watch Olivia unlatch the gate to go down into the third class level. Down below, the third class general room was stark compared to the opulence of first class, but it was brimming with activity. It was raucously loud, mothers and children yelling, music playing, but the overall atmosphere was one of joy.

Amongst the crowd of people partaking in various activities, Rafael sat with a young girl, drawing funny faces and shapes together in his sketchbook. Nearby, Eddie tried valiantly to spark a conversation with an attractive young Norwegian woman as she sat with her family. He was attempting her ability to speak a common language with him when her attention was drawn over his shoulder and he turned to stare.

Curious, Rafael followed their line of sight and his sketchbook fell from numb hands. The boisterous room came to a halt, the sound of silence palpable in the air. Olivia was heading toward him, suddenly self conscious at the blatant attention from the stunned steerage passengers. Her citron green satin gown overlaid with the most delicate lace Rafael had ever seen would have been more at more in a duke's salon than in steerage. Her chocolate eyes melted with relief when she spotted Rafael, giving him a small smile and beelining for him. He rose from his seat to greet her with a broad smile, the young girl he'd been drawing with a distant memory.

"Hello Rafael," she said, her small smile growing wider by the millisecond as her heart beat an anxious pattern in her chest.

"Hello again," he replied, cheeks already hurting from the strength of his smile. He tried not to glance at Eddie and Declan, who watched the interaction with awed bafflement.

"Could I speak to you in private?" Olivia questioned, doing her best to hide the nervous energy welling inside.

Rafael's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "Uh, yes. Of course. After you," he replied, motioning with his hand, following behind her. Glancing over his shoulder at his friends, they left the packed room in a stunned silence.

They walked side by side, their mismatched attire and stature drawing curious attention from the passengers lounging in the steamer chairs. Rafael felt out of place in his grubby cotton and corduroy, yet he didn't know that Olivia felt just as uncomfortable in her own satin and lace. In the end, they were both uncomfortable, just for differing reasons.

"So, you got a name by the way?" Rafael asked, finally breaking the awkwardness between them.

Laughing at her own poor manners, she replied, "Olivia. Olivia Benson."

He was about to crack a joke about her name but thought better of it.

"Mr. Barba, I–" Olivia started.

"Rafael," he interrupted.

"Rafael… I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you," she admitted.

"Well, here you are." He was highly amused to see a beautiful woman of such stature nervous to speak to him, but he did his best to keep that hidden.

"Here I am. I… I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for… for pulling me back. But for your discretion."

With appropriate seriousness for the moment, Rafael said a simple, "You're welcome, Olivia."

Suddenly, something shifted in her expression. "Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?"

Rafael's eyebrows pulled inward, lips tightening into a thin line. How could she believe that was what he thought? He knew it was so much more than that. It would take an absolute idiot to believe otherwise.

With an earnest, even tone, he explained exactly what he thought. "That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was… what could have happened to hurt this girl so much she thought she had no way out."

Stunned, Olivia took a moment to gather herself. There was something about Rafael that told her she was safe with him, that she could be open and vulnerable. She was unused to such feelings of psychological safety and it overwhelmed her for a brief moment.

"I don't… it wasn't just one thing. It was everything. It was them, it was their whole world. And I was trapped in it, like an insect in amber," Olivia explained in a rush. "I just had to get away… just run and run and run… and then I was at the back rail and there was no more ship… even Titanic wasn't big enough. Not enough to get away from them. And before I really thought about it, I was over the rail. I was so furious. I'll show them. They'll be sorry!"

He considered her for a beat. "That penguin last night, is he one of them?"

Perplexed, Olivia's brow furrowed momentarily. "Penguin? Oh, El? He is them."

The pieces began to fit together for Rafael. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"Worse, I'm afraid," she admitted with a cringe. Extending her delicate left hand, she showed him the sizable diamond adorning her ring finger.

"Gawd, look at that thing!" he declared with suitable awe, however sarcastic it might have been. "You would have gone straight to the bottom."

The laugh they shared was genuine and loud, drawing the attention of a passing steward who glared at the clearly out of place Rafael. Olivia scowled at the man until he fled without a remark.

Turning back to each other, Rafael dove head first back into the heavy conversation. "So, you feel like you're stuck on a train you can't get off 'cause you're marryin' this fella."

His summation shot straight to the point, hitting Olivia point blank in the solar plexus. "Yes, exactly!" Her exclamation is breathless at the thought of being so well understood by another person. It was something she never experienced in her short life.

To Rafael, the solution appeared easy and effective. "So, don't marry him."

"If only it were that simple."

"It is that simple." It seemed simple enough, but the distinction was clearly lost on him. The wealthy made things far more difficult than they needed to be, Rafael thought.

Olivia's dark eyes softened with newfound affection. "Oh, Rafael… Please don't judge me until you've seen my world."

With a heavy sigh, he relented. "I guess I will tonight."

Things were awkward once again, and they both searched for a way to change the topic. Spotting the sketchbook in his long-fingered hand, Olivia jerked her chin toward it. "What's this?"

Glancing down, Rafael flushed. "Just some sketches." He was nervous to let her see his work, but he knew she would ask. And ask she did, with little question and more action.

"May I?" The works hardly left her mouth before she grabbed the book, stealing it from his grip. Sitting back on a deck chair, Olivia opened the book and perused through Rafael's drawings with growing admiration and interest. His talent far exceeded her expectations. His range was extensive, never limited to one style or subject. Olivia was entranced as she flipped through the book page by page. His work was a study of the human condition, highlighting the best and worst of what life had to offer.

"Rafael, these are quite good! Really, they are," she said with awe.

Overwhelmed with the high praise, he grumbled, "Well, they didn't think too much of 'em in Paree." Loose sketches fell from the book as the words left his lips and he scrambled after them. He had so few possessions in this world and he watched the wind carry most of the pages away, only able to snatch two from the air.

"Oh no! Oh, I'm so sorry. Truly!" Watching the pages swirl in the wind and out to sea, Olivia was distressed.

"I'll draw more," Rafael replied, resigning himself to the loss. "Besides, they're not worth a damn anyway." To emphasize his point, he tossed the two pages overboard.

Olivia laughed, which was his goal. "You're deranged!" she declared. Turning back to the sketchbook in her lap, she flipped to the next page. "Well, well…"

The next pages were filled with a series of nudes. Olivia was transfixed by the delicate beauty he captured with his own hand. The sketches came alive on the page, so realistic and almost uncomfortably intimate.

Olivia tried to be very adult in spite of the heavy blush spreading across her neck and face. "And these were drawn from life?"

Rafael smirks, pleased to admit that they were. "Yup. That's one of the great things about Paris. Lots of girls willing to take their clothes off."

Studying one particular drawing for long moments, Olivia sighed. The young woman was posed in half light, delicate hands at her chin, languid and graceful. "You liked this woman. You used her several times."

"She had beautiful hands," he admitted with a shrug.

Staring back at him doubtfully, she said, "Oh, is that all? I think you must have had a love affair with her…"

"No, no!" Rafael laughed. "Just with her hands."

Olivia was quiet for long moments again, eyes locked on the drawings. The man before her was unlike anyone she'd ever met before. He was worldly in a way she was unused to and she was enthralled. Looking up, Olivia gazed on him with a warm, affectionate gaze. "You have a gift, Rafael. You do. You see people."

He pierced her with those vibrant green eyes, leaving her feeling exposed in the most incredible way. "I see you."

Serena Benson was in the D deck reception room, having tea with the Countess of Rothes, an English blue blood as equally haughty as Olivia's mother. Looking up from their conversation, Serena blanched and lowered her voice.

"Oh no, that vulgar Calhoun woman is coming this way. Get up quickly, before she sits with us."

Rita approached before they could escape, greeting them cheerfully. "Hello girls, I was hoping I'd catch you at tea."

"We're awfully sorry you missed it. The Countess and I are just off to take the air on the boat deck," Serena tried to excuse them.

Rita's eyes narrowed, knowing they were blowing her off. "That sounds great. Let's go. I need to catch up on the gossip." She smirked to herself at the way Serena gritted her teeth.

Across the reception room, John Buchanan and Captain Cragen were seated at another table. Cragen was trying to enjoy his meal, yet Buchanan harped on about the current speed of the large vessel.

"So, you've not lit the last four boilers then?" Buchanan asked.

With a heavy sigh, Cragen replied, "No, but we're making excellent time."

The blustering man did not relent and continued impatiently. "Captain, the press knows the size of Titanic, let them marvel at her speed too. We must give them something new to print. And the maiden voyage of Titanic must make headlines!"

My God, the impudence of this man, Cragen thought. In a tone that would have made lesser men give up, he said, "I prefer not to push the engines until they've been properly run in."

"Of course I leave it to your good offices to decide what's best, but what a glorious end to your last crossing if we get into New York Tuesday night and surprise them all." With a booming laugh, Buchanan slapped the table. "Retire with a bang, eh Don?"

Against his better judgment, Cragen relented with a stiff nod.

On the A deck promenade, Olivia and Rafael stroll along, passing numerous people lounging on deck chairs, enjoying the late afternoon light. They bantered as they went along, sharing gleeful laughter and secret glances.

"You know, my dream has always been to just chuck it all and become an artist… living in a garret, poor but free!" Olivia chattered with excited quickness, enjoying the brightness of Rafael's broad grin as he laughed.

"You wouldn't last two days. There's no hot water, and hardly ever any caviar," he sassed.

"Listen, buster… I hate caviar! And I'm tired of people dismissing my dreams with a chuckle and a pat on the head."

Taken aback by the sudden turn in Olivia's tone, Rafael rushed to apologize. "I'm sorry. Really… I am."

The mood changed again, nearly giving him whiplash as Olivia kept talking. "Well, alright. There's something in me, Rafa. I feel it. I don't know what it is, whether I should be an artist, or I don't know… a dancer. Like Isadora Duncan… a wild pagan spirit…"

He watched, completely charmed and enchanted with the woman before him, as she leapt forward, landing and twirling like a madwoman, laughing raucously. The nickname was new, causing butterflies to flutter in his stomach and he loved it. Every moment with Olivia had been a whirlwind of awe, growing affections, and laughter. For the first time in longer than he cared to admit, Rafael found himself hoping for a real future.

TBC