The Innocent Bystander

by gilligankane

Spoilers: set before the proposal (early March)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this ended up way longer than i thought it would be, but okay.

I was going to ask you to marry me.

- pleasefindthis

The ring is burning a hole through his pocket, searing the skin underneath like it's branding in the shape of a diamond; branding him so he'll always be known as the man who proposed to Natalia Rivera.

He'll always be known as the man who fell in love with Natalia Rivera.

(And now, with the ring still in his pocket, he doesn't know that soon he'll be known as the man who wasn't loved by Natalia Rivera; the man who was turned down by Natalia Rivera; the man who was passed over.)

He doesn't drive to the farmhouse right after he buys it.

But he paces, hard and fast, soft and slow across the floor of his room at the boarding house, rehearsing the words and the inflections and the motions.

Drop to one knee – his knee is bruised from kneeling so much.

Grab her hand softly.

Ask her the most important question of his entire life.

He thinks she might be better than Eleni was; she might be the soothing salve for his broken and bleeding heart.

Coop is dead, but Natalia can fix that; Natalia did fix that, temporarily for now.

When she says yes she'll fix it forever.

“Natalia,” he says, crossing the room.

Not right, not heartfelt enough .

“ Na talia.”

Better, but not perfect.

“Natalia,” this time, a whisper.

Got it , he cheers silently.

“I know,” he stumbles, feeling slightly ridiculous kneeling on his bedroom floor, knowing his father, his daughter, his son-in-law, Blake , could waltz in at any moment and find him here; here, when he should be at the station. “I know,” he continues, “that you're a woman who prides herself on her moral structure, on that pillar of strength and I, I respect that, I truly do.”

He takes a deep breath.

“Which is why I want you to marry me,” he exhales.

Smiling, he stands and falls backward onto his bed, drowning in the sheets. “God, I can make her so happy,” he whispers to the ceiling,

It's not until he's pacing outside of the farmhouse, with the ring piercing his side like a thorn, that two things happen. The first: he forgets what he's going to say; the second: he looks in through the window.

At first, it's nothing out of the ordinary, not really. Because there's Olivia and Natalia and vaguely, he can hear Emma's tinny voice filtering in and out of the cracks in the shutters and she's yelling something about someone reading a bedtime story to her and it's something he can smile about, because – he can't help thinking – maybe one day he'll have a little Cooper to read bedtime stories too, with Natalia's smile.

Except that Olivia and Natalia are just standing there, neither of them making a movement towards the stairs; neither of them acknowledging Emma already in bed, waiting.

They're just sort of standing in the living, staring at each other and he might think this is some sort of staring contest – he wants to believe that this is some sort of staring contest – it just doesn't feel right , like there's some heaviness, some undercurrent he can't touch or see or feel, but he just knows .

He knows it's not good, it's not something he's going to like.

Because Olivia kind of looks deflated; looks like she's bending in half without really moving; looks like all the air has been sucked out of her body; looks uncomfortable.

And Natalia is there, at the other end of the couch, waiting with a patient gaze the way she always waits for Olivia.

Natalia is always picking up Olivia's messes , he thinks, partially bitter.

Partially , because the other portion of him just wants Natalia to want to pick up his messes.

But Olivia doesn't move or speak, and from what it looks like, she just keeps shrinking and getting smaller. And Natalia just waits, patiently and calmly, with a sort of smile on her face and her stance easy, non-confrontational.

And the window is open.

That's how I heard Emma, his mind shouts, because a Detective's job is never done.

“Olivia,” and not only is Natalia's smile calm, her voice is soft and level.

But Olivia doesn't look away from the mantle, right over Natalia's shoulder; doesn't even pretend like she heard Natalia say a word.

“Olivia,” she repeats, taking a step closer and he does the same, pulling in tight against the window, his ears straining to hear Natalia's voice – to memorize the timbre and the warble and the way her tongue stumbles a little with double consonants.

“This isn't going to work,” Olivia finally says, her spine straightening as she brings her shoulders square. He wants to pull back a little bit, but he can't bring himself to do it.

“Yes it is,” Natalia says reassuringly. Her smile stays in place.

“Don't be naive,” Olivia hisses. “Stop being so optimistic, alright? Just accept that it's all, it's all, fucked up and it won't work.”

He expects Natalia to scream at Olivia for swearing; to demand money for the swear jar, because he's seen her do it before and he's seen Olivia begrudgingly hand over the money to slap it down into Natalia's upturned palm with a sigh and he hadn't been the only one in shock and awe – a woman like Natalia managing to reign in a whirlwind like Olivia .

But Natalia actually smiles a little wider.

And it simultaneously confuses him and pisses him off.

“Are you done?”

Olivia growls. “ No . I don't know what liquor cabinet you got into Natalia, but get out of it , because we were delusional to think that, that this was ever going to work out, alright?” She sighs into her hands and Frank wonders: I thought they worked out the living situation.

(Afterwards, he's going to wonder who gave him a goddamn badge in the first place, because he's not the crackerjack Detective he – or his father – thinks he is.)

“Okay,” Natalia pauses. “Are you done now?”

“ Natalia ,” Olivia snaps. “Stop doing…”

But Natalia keeps going, taking another step closer to where Olivia is standing, keeps talking right over her. “Because if you're finally, finally done telling me that it can't work, I'd like to tell you why it can .”

Another step forward.

And he holds his next breath.

“It can work ,” Natalia whispers, her hand rising and tracing, what he can assume to be, the lines of Olivia's face. “Because it's supposed to.”

Olivia opens her mouth, but Natalia steps closer and he can hear the older woman's jaw snap shut with an audible clack .

“We've worked too hard for it, too long and we've gone through too many fights and boxes of tissues. We've worked too hard, so don't you dare tell me that it's not going to work. Alright?” Natalia asks, a smile still firm on her face. “Hey,” she says, turning Olivia's face towards her own, and from the window, Frank can watch it all.

He can see the way Natalia's finger touches just under Olivia's jaw line, tucked and settled.  

He can see the way Olivia's eyes finally lift up to meet Natalia's.

He can see the way that Natalia ducks her head and smiles a little and the way the life seems to rush back into Olivia's body.

“I'm sorry,” he hears Olivia whisper. “Sometimes, sometimes I forget.”

Natalia nods slowly, her smile still warm. “Well, I'll remind you.”

Olivia smiles, stepping closer and he can't help but think about boundaries and how they don't seem to have any and how strange it is that he never noticed it before – that no one noticed it before – and how they don't seem to mind; they seem to crave it.

And then Olivia kisses Natalia, brushing her lips against the younger woman's – his woman's – mouth lightly, once, twice, then a third time and it kills him.

It kills him because Natalia, after the third brush, smiles wider and leans in further and he can see her fingers pressing deeply into Olivia's hips, pressing hard against the bone he knows is under there and Olivia sighs again, shrinking again, but this time she looks like she's letting the tension and the confusion and the fear out of her body and Natalia absorbs it, taking it in with each passing of their mouths.

It kills him because Olivia, after Natalia steps closer, smiles again and winds her arms around Natalia's neck, tangling her fingers in the dark hair and he knows what that feels like, how he could get lost there and how Olivia is probably getting lost there too.

It kills him because he's supposed to be the one who Natalia kisses; the one who swallows Natalia's sighs and gets to slide one hand under her sweater and feel her shiver.

It kills him.

He turns from the window, slinking into the shadows like some perverted Peeping Tom when Emma calls down the stairs again, asking for someone to come up and read to her. He turns from the window, but not before he sees Olivia smile against Natalia's mouth and Natalia press her face into the crook of Olivia' neck. He turns away from the window, but not before he hears Olivia whisper I love you .

He turns away, but he still hears Natalia hum softly: I love you too.

The ring presses against his thigh, but it burns a hole in his heart: a slow smoldering he knows will catch fire and rage through his entire body as soon as he gets far enough away that he'll be alone to deal with it. It presses against his thigh, the hard diamond piercing his skin and his soul underneath that and he lets his feet take him down the front walk, back into his car; let's them press the brake and the gas and his hands turn the wheel until he's back at the jewelry store, his face pressed against the cool glass like a kid at a candy store, but he eyes are only focused on the empty space where the ring in his pocket used to be.

The empty space in the padded case will be filled again – when he returns the ring tomorrow morning, as soon as the doors open.

The empty space in his heart doesn't seem like it'll ever be filled again, and behind his eyelids, Olivia dances across the darkness and Natalia is there with her, dancing along to a beat no one can hear but them.

He thinks it might be something like a heartbeat: beep, I love you, beep, I love you, beep, beep, beep .