Blue Verse:
"I thought we agreed no gifts."
A smile played up on Olivia's lips when Peter handed her a rectangular box wrapped in paper that was perfect for him but far too garish for her. She didn't take the present, so he sat it down in front of her, allowing the space she needed to take it if and when she was ready.
"Yeah well," he said shrugging his shoulders and stuffing his hands deep inside his pockets. "I just happened to find it. No big deal." Peter's twinkling eyes told her that it was a complete lie: he put a lot of thought into this gift, whatever it was.
Olivia nodded slowly but she didn't move. She kept herself tightly wrapped but felt herself melt the moment her eyes met Peter's. They held each other's gaze; Peter was the only one with whom she'd dance this dance, but she still felt the need to keep to herself as much as possible. It was defensive - probably had something to do with her traumatic childhood and the trust issues she developed in her later years. She had always been strong, able to handle things, take care of people and survive. But the one thing that she couldn't do was live without fear.
Fear plagued her, haunted her. Olivia walked through life in blacks and grays with a devil on her shoulder that she couldn't shake off. She hid it well, throwing herself into work. She became the model agent, and despite a few minor infractions, she was very good at her work. But her eyes betrayed her and Peter saw through all those protective layers. She was surrounded by a perpetual sadness, fueled by years of abuse, one that she couldn't shake away so easily. That's why the rectangular gift still lay on the table in front of her.
Peter knew that's how she would react, especially at something that was unplanned, that had gone against their original plan and surprised her. She needed time to take the gift on her own time, to take his offer, take him at his word that everything would be happy and beautiful in the end, all on her own time. Secretly, she thanked him for it.
The corners of her mouth peaked slowly and a hint of joy played into her otherwise sad eyes. He was elated. He pulled the chair out from the table and plopped himself down in front of her, smiling brightly. Peter took his hands out of his pockets and pushed the little box towards her slowly and with every small inch, her smile grew wider and wider until she had to look away from him for fear that she would laugh and her mask would fall away.
"Actually," she said leaning forward suddenly, lowering her head to her hands on the table. "I got you something too."
Peter looked shocked but he recovered quickly and leaned back in his chair away from her - his own defensive reaction. He wasn't the only one in the room with trust issues and even though he cared for her, he wasn't about to lay all of his feelings out on the table for her just yet. They weren't quite there yet. He wasn't quite there.
"Yeah?" he asked raising an eyebrow. "What?"
She pulled her own box out of her pocket and set it along side his present. They were the same size and the same shape; the only thing different was the wrapping paper.
"I have a feeling you and I shop at the same store," he quipped and Olivia just set back into her chair, waiting for him to make the first move.
They stared at each other for awhile until the tension grew too thick and at the same time they both reached for their gifts and pulled them away quickly.
"You know," Olivia said softly, fingering the delicate bow on the top of the box. "It's not exactly Christmas yet, is it?" She looked up at Peter who was shaking his box, like a little boy too eager to wait for Christmas morning.
"No, I guess it's not," Peter said, unable to keep the pout out of his voice. He desperately wanted to tear the paper off the box and dive into the gift and the only thing restraining him was a small shred of adult maturity floating in his brain.
Olivia watched Peter for few moments. He was trying to figure out what she bought him with math, science and reason and without having to open the box. He squinted at the box and he traced his fingers around the its corners, alternating between shaking the gift gently holding it up to his ear, as if he could hear whatever it was that lay inside. She almost laughed - his remarkable brain wouldn't help him with this particular puzzle. Olivia bit her lip, greatly amused by his confusion, made worse by his desire to know. Suddenly bored of his game, she had a better idea.
"Well," Olivia said standing up and walking around the table over to Peter. "Why don't we leave these for awhile then." She leaned against the table and Peter put the box back down so it was aligned with hers.
"Did you have something else in mind?"
"Skating and hot chocolate."
Peter furrowed his brow. "You know, I don't actually know how to skate."
Olivia crossed her arms over her shoulders, refusing to admit that she didn't know how to either. "That's okay," she said shrugging her shoulders. "You'll pick it up pretty quickly."
"Hey, wait!" He jumped up off his chair and hurried after her. She slowed enough so he could catch up to her and when he did, her hand wrapped around his. Surprised, but not unpleasantly, he squeezed her hand back and the two made their way out of Walter's lab hand in hand, leaving the two boxes momentarily forgotten.
/
Red Verse:
There was nothing but noise in this quiet place. It was slow but chaotic, like trying to run through jelly. Her mind was an unpleasant place to reside in, day in and day out. His presence didn't help matters any - his face, his words were a constant reminder that she was here when she shouldn't be. That she was trapped in a world that would surely kill her when it found out who she really was and no one from her side would ever know what really happened to her.
"I hate you," Olivia muttered desperately, but it didn't seem to faze him and then he had the audacity to bring up a topic she was trying to avoid.
"What are you getting this year? Anything? From anyone? Do they even celebrate Christmas here like we do back home?" he asked. He only spoke to her when she was starting to feel like herself, when she was alone and quiet, a disembodied voice that followed her around asking her questions she didn't want answers to. He made her question her sanity, question the world around her. That was his goal, to force her to remember who she really was and where she was from, but it was so much easier to just close her eyes and forget, to fall into this nice, comfortable world and just live her life -
"Do you remember what you were going to give to Ella?"
Olivia's eyes flew open. She stood up and paced around the room violently. He was always the loudest in the dead of night, when she had nothing but the sound of her own mind to drown out the sounds of chaos that swirled around her. She tried to ignore him, but he was always so loud, so forceful, so insistent that after awhile, he forced her to tilt her head and acknowledge his existence. But this was too much. He knew her too well, he refused to let her forget. She took a deep breath, still refusing to answer any of his questions. Her glowering look made him smile softly, but the gravity of the situation soon wiped his face clear and he posed the question to her again:
"What were you going to give to Ella?"
She broke then. Sinking to the floor, she collapsed in a heap, sobbing. Olivia had never been one to give in to tears, but the mention of her beloved niece sent her reeling and the dam that did so well holding her together finally broke apart. She learned from a very young age how to cry softly so that no one would hear her and the only thing in the empty apartment was the sound of her gasping for the occasional breath. She wiped her wet hands on the front of her pant legs, trying to regain any sense of decorum that she might have once had when she felt a hand press down on her back. Her immediate reaction was to fight - to hit who ever touched her - but the hand was stronger than her willpower and she gave into his touch.
He bent down beside her, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her heaving body into his.
"It's okay, Olivia," he whispered. Her head fit perfectly under his chin and he held her as tight as he could.
"I... I don't know what to do," she admitted heavily and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to curl up into his lap and stay there forever.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he held on to her shaking body until the shakes grew softer and then finally stopped. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and whispered:
"Just keep doing what you're doing. You're going to get home. You'll make it home."
Like a mantra, he repeated the same three sentences over and over until her gasps stopped and her cheeks grew dry.
When she finally pulled away, she turned and realized that she was alone in the apartment, that the man and his voice were gone. She swallowed the lump in her throat and resisted the urge to cry again. Using everything she had inside her, she pushed the feelings down and out of her heart until she was calm again.
She made her way to to the bathroom. Blasting the hot water, she stepped into the blazing hot shower; it stung as the water pelted her skin, making her turn red, but she didn't turn away from the heat. Drawing strength from pain, Olivia closed her eyes and let all of the stress and ache and pain wash out of her and when she was finally feeling better, she stepped out of the shower. Not bothering with a towel, she made her way over to the mirror and looked at herself for the first time in a long time. Foggy with steam, she slowly, stretched out a single finger and wrote emnever forget who you are/em on the hot glass. On the last letter, she let her finger sit for a moment. She watched as droplets of water streaked down the glass. The message would disappear soon but the meaning would always stay with her.
Olivia walked into her living room, thinking about her niece, wondering if she was enjoying her Christmas vacation and Olivia smiled at the memories she had of the two of them. She tried to teach Ella that Christmas gifts come in all shapes and sizes and even though Olivia was still unsure about who this man was, she finally knew for certain that she was Olivia Dunham, from an alternate universe. She smiled at the ridiculousness of the thought but knew that even though it was crazy, it didn't make the statement any less true. She owed her thanks to the man and his voice for the only present that she received that year would keep her sane and focused on what she needed to do to get back home.
/
Retro Verse:
With his miniscule allowance money, he bought a present for a girl he wasn't sure actually existed. A girl who he saw in a dream, who was as real as day, who he could touch and feel but who he could only find inside his head. It confused him and he kept it a secret from his mother and father. If he had said anything, his mother would probably cry and pour herself another drink while his father would narrow his eyes and glue electrodes to his temples and ask him to fall asleep and dream the same dream again while he took notes in his thick notebook.
Shaking his head, Peter clenched the gift in his hand, certain that this is what she would like, that it would make her smile and keep him in her mind. The only thing he was uncertain of was how he was going to give it to her. He tried to remember how they met each other to begin with - it would be strange of him to specifically ask to go to his father's daycare center. No, he would have to give it to her in their special place. The quiet place, the warm place, the place where it was just the two of them. He set the gift on his wooden desk and lay on his bed, staring at it from across the room. He closed his eyes and thought about her and that place, hoping that she really was real.
/
She woke up hoping that this is one of his good days, a day where she doesn't have to worry about how loudly she and Rachel are in the other room, a day where they don't have to walk on eggshells all day long, afraid that they'll upset him and the delicate peace in the house. Her hopes fell when she heard a coffee cup smash across the tiled kitchen floor and her step-father's voice carrying up to the second floor. Quietly, she crept downstairs and peaks around the corner. Rachel was trying to pick up the porcelain pieces with her bare hands and Olivia's first instinct is to fetch a broom from the closet but she stops herself.
emThings don't seem so bad right now: he's only yelling, after all. Maybe that'll be the end of it and we can all start over again -/em
Olivia's train of thought came to grinding halt when her step-father reached out and smacked Rachel across the face, screaming about her being too slow and stupid to do anything right. Acting out of instinct, Olivia charged into the kitchen, grabbing Rachel by the arm and dragging her away before her step-father can say anything else.
"Olivia-?"
"Get upstairs!" She ordered.
"What -?"
"Rachel! Mom is probably awake by now. Get upstairs and get to her." Olivia pushed Rachel in the direction of the staircase and took off running in the opposite direction, towards the front door. She had just enough time to pull on a pair of winter boots before she fled out the door.
She can't run as fast through snow as she could have through grass and it's colder than she had anticipated. She turned around briefly to see her step-father standing on the front porch laughing. Confused, she stopped when she realized that he wasn't coming after her when he slammed the door shut, leaving Olivia standing in nothing but a thing night dress and a pair of winter boots that were far too big for her.
Running back to the house, she banged on the door screaming "let me in!" but she could hear her step-father yelling at her mother and at Rachel, something about "punishment" and "let's see how that little bitch fairs now". Olivia swallowed, trying not to panic, but the morning sun was fading and the wind was picking up. Trying not to cry, she banged on the door harder until her fists turned red and the panic grew in her, traveling faster and faster, until the door threw open and she fell in to the special place her and Peter went to together.
/
"I knew you'd come!" He shouted excitedly when he finally saw her.
Olivia stood perfectly still, looking around her wide-eyed. She didn't move even as Peter stood in front of her.
"What's wrong? Why are you shivering?"
Olivia couldn't answer and only relaxed when Peter took off the sweater he was wearing and pulled it over her head.
"I was hoping you'd come here," he continued quickly. "I wanted to give you this." He thrust a book into her hands and took a step backwards. "Merry Christmas!"
Olivia ran her fingers over the spine and opened it, finding blank pages.
"It's a journal! You know, so you can write whatever you want in it."
Olivia smiled. "It's nice Peter, thank you."
Peter smiled happily, proud of himself for figuring it all out. "Wait, what's wrong?" he asked, suddenly anxious that this wasn't what she wanted at all.
"I'm... sorry, I don't have anything for you..."
"That's fine!" Peter said and they both paused tensely, unsure of what to say next when Olivia finally said:
"If it's alright with you, can we stay here a little longer?"
Peter relaxed. "Of course!" He seated himself down on the grass and waited for her to join him. "You can even take my sweater back with you, if you want."
Olivia looked at him, surprised. "Really?" she asked.
"Sure!" he said shrugging his shoulders and trying not to sound as giddy as he felt. "I don't really like that sweater much anyway."
Olivia smiled and looked down at the journal he gave her. "Thank you."
The two sat together, happy and content, and when Olivia was finally feeling better, she leaned over and kissed Peter's cheek. Pulling back, she saw a young boy beaming with happiness and in one, two, three blinks, their special place was gone and they were both back at home, in the safety of their own beds.
He fell asleep that night smiling, dreaming of a girl who he knew was real, who was happy and content with what he did for her and somewhere across the universe was a girl who could finally let her fears go and relax, knowing that she always had a safe place to go.
/
Future Verse:
He lay his wife down in their marriage bed gently and even though Olivia often preferred to be in control, she had no trouble letting him take charge on this Christmas Eve. Their gifts all laid out beneath the tree, guests sent home happy and fed, they had nothing left to do but give each other the best they had to offer. Leaning into her, Peter kissed her lips and Olivia responded immediately, following his every move with her own light touches, caresses and kisses. She let his groans guide him just as much as hers did for him.
His hands curled around her body and she arched with every touch, gasping for breath and closing her eyes as his hand guided her head to the pillows. He moved inside her gently but with strength and prowess - he loved her and there were no more words that could express it as effectively as this singular act.
He bent his head down towards her neck and peppered kisses along her jaw line as her inner muscles clenched around him and she cried out, signaling him to move faster, deeper until he plummeted off the edge behind her.
Collapsing on top of her limp body, the two remained entwined, struggling for breath and as it returned and the world around them stopped spinning, he whispered emI love you/em into her hair before he shifted and she lay on top of him, tired by happy.
/
With their last round of love making finished, Peter held his wife close in the dark with his arms wrapped around her and his lips brushing against her temple. Her eyelashes fluttered against the side of his neck and as he drifted off to sleep, Peter's last thought was the present he had for Olivia beneath the Christmas tree while Olivia stayed awake, listening to Peter's snoring.
Peter only snored when he was over tired and on the occasion it kept her awake but this time, she didn't mind the sound at all. Her thoughts rolled over him, them, their relationship. She really did love him, more than she cared to admit; the very thought of which made her smile to the point of near laughter. Despite her feelings for him, she couldn't think of what to give him for Christmas. She wanted something that would express her feelings exactly but she couldn't find anything that even came close to it. Except
Olivia let out the sigh she had been holding on to. She knew what Peter wanted - she wanted it too but the act of actually emmaking that happen/em was something she had a difficult time with. Letting it go, everything, everything that made her life hard and solitary. She was laying beside the love of her life, clutching his arm and watching as his chest rose and fell with every breath, and still she felt the need to be on guard, stand on ceremony, waiting for the inevitable to happen.
But it never did. Secretly she felt stupid for not being able to give up that feeling, for not being able to leave it behind her. She was at the mercy of a memory she couldn't even remember. How could she bring a child into the world when she carried around so much baggage on a day to day basis? Olivia chided herself for being so stupid but tears welled in her eyes when she realized that that's exactly what she and Peter emwanted/em - to have children together and to be a family. That would be the best Christmas present she could give Peter and she allowed herself to briefly imagine what that would look like.
The girls all looked like her but had his personality and the boys were the spitting image of their father but with their mother's sensibility. She grimaced at the idea the girls with Peter's personality and was suddenly convinced that she would be a much better mother if they only had boys. But then again, Peter would love to have a daughter and the idea of a little girl in pigtails playing tea party almost made Olivia laugh out loud and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from waking her sleeping husband.
All of this was premature as there was no point in thinking about all of this by herself on Christmas Eve. She thought about how she wanted to tell Peter that she wanted to start a family, that she was finally ready to leave her past behind and start on their future together. The idea of it was liberating - to actually be able to emleave the past behind her/em, the sheer idea of it made her giddy and she sat up eagerly, shaking Peter awake.
He snorted and opened one eye, only to find an ecstatic looking Olivia staring down at him.
"... Olivia... what... what time is it?"
"Peter," she said. "I want to start a family."
He was suddenly wide awake and convinced that he misheard her. "What?"
"I want us to have a baby together."
"... Right now?"
"Yes."
Peter's mouth gapped open and he was unsure of what to say.
"Well?" she asked, suddenly scared that he was going to say no.
"Yeah, of course, Liv," he said smiling and taking her face between his hands and kissing her softly. "But why don't we talk about it in the morning?"
She laughed and nodded, settling back down on Peter's chest, she fell asleep with a smile on her face, in anticipation of what Christmas morning would bring. But none of it would matter because already, deep inside of her, something was starting to happen.