I've been meaning to post this for awhile now. What started as a few pages has turned into 10 and I'm still not done. So I thought I'd break it into Parts. I'm not sure how many it'll take to wrap the story up, but a few. Enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated.
Part 1:
"Whether you admit it or not, your life is something of a nightmare." The words Sam had spoken kept ringing in her ears. Was he actually right? Her life didn't seem perfect, far from it. She tried not to let some things bother her but Charlie---it wasn't easy to just let it go.
She carried a sadness around with her, a painful reminder of what was lost and would never be found. She tried to bury it, much like he'd been laid to rest but it was something she couldn't remove from herself. He'd been a friend to her, a colleague, and someone she had always been able to trust. Losing that scared her. It terrified her and the fact she was forced to pull the trigger, unforgivable and yet it had to be done.
She couldn't regret the decision, her life was on the line and Charlie was no longer the man in the body she believed him to be.
When she got the case about leaving for Seattle she was grateful for the reprieve, away from Boston. She was looking forward to a fresh start even if it was only temporary. Something about it, the air, the dampness it wasn't like home. It made her strangely happy.
She wasn't the only one that noticed the change, Walter hadn't liked it and though she felt bad for him leaving, she couldn't help but enjoy the fact it was just her and Peter now.
***
She was more than slightly surprised when there was a knock at her door. With her toothbrush in her hand she knew who it had to be. The one and only, Peter Bishop. She smiled seeing his M.I.T. shirt and laughed at the fact she was wearing her Northwestern T-shirt. Even their pajamas seemed to match. She made light of, joked about having actually graduated when he'd bought his shirt to impress the girls. He hadn't denied her the truth.
He told her why he really came by, what he'd found. Then, it seemed he found himself opening up to her. Explaining about his childhood nightmares. His father had been the only one able to make them stop. From the time he was eight until nineteen, the mantra he'd say before bed "Please don't dream tonight." Though so utterly simple worked.
Silently she stared at him, wondering if they would work for her as well. Her dreams hadn't been peaceful lately. She couldn't remember the last time she slept through the night. She could remember countless times waking up in tears. She knew it was ridiculous, they were just bad dreams and yet she couldn't help the terror and fear she felt. It had been so incredibly real.
***
"They just wanted some rest." The doctor's voice echoed through her ears. She could easily relate, imagining the extremes some people would go through to find comfort in sleep. Though albeit it unconventional there were always people willing to take the risk for little if no reward.
It wasn't hard to imagine what the others must have gone through, at least bringing them into such a sleep study. She just wasn't sure, even with little to no sleep, she'd feel comfortable with an implant in her neck. It seemed way too science fiction even if it was science fact. It creeped her out not that she'd say anything to anyone.
She was glad when she left the office and finally headed back to the hotel room. Peter was with her, it was a relief to have him here in Seattle. She hated not knowing who she'd count on now that Charlie was gone. It wasn't that she didn't trust Peter, hardly, she just hated leaving it entirely up to him to be her backup. He was strong, forceful, would do anything to protect her---she knew that---but it wasn't his job. It wasn't his responsibility to look after her. Though she was wondering when it had become that way. Though he never complained she knew he probably wasn't thrilled with the responsibility. He didn't have a gun, using his bare hands wasn't always the best strategy. He was quick-witted though and always figured something out.
Sitting across from him, watching him eat the apple her eyes moved from the red treat across his lips as he took a bite. She tried not to allow herself the distraction but it was increasingly difficult.
Averting her eyes, she sighed seeing the picture of Charlie. She didn't know why she still carried it with her. Maybe as a reminder but of what she wasn't yet certain. The picture haunted her more than she cared to admit. Peter watched her, opening his mouth, trying to get her to open up, to make her realize he understood what she was going through, what she had to do.
She didn't know what compelled her to talk, to explain to him about her first real week on the job with the Bureau. How the fear had ran through her veins and though she wanted to run out, escape, Charlie had seen her eying the exit, told her "you're gonna be fine." Those words still rung in her ears today. Every time, gun drawn she'd hear him in her head. It was harder now though, with Charlie forever gone. She hadn't really been able to say goodbye, not properly. The funeral had been difficult enough to attend. She was friends with his wife and pretending that he died in the line of duty, that he was a fallen hero---maybe in a way he was—it was difficult.
She was finding it increasingly difficult to stay unemotional and detached. She needed an escape, a distraction and opening up to Peter, though she desperately wanted to, she couldn't. She needed to be strong. She wouldn't allow him to see this weak side of her, she herself didn't want to see it. She made a quick excuse standing up, the one time she had wished the phone to ring or the door to interrupt them—it hadn't happened.
He watched her hands tremble as she disappeared around the corner. "Okay." The words moved past his lips hearing the front door shut. This was not how he envisioned them talking. Shaking his head he stood up. He couldn't just leave things the way they were. Maybe she wanted space and time to settle down but it was clear she was hurting inside. He wanted to be there to take the pain away. "Livia," he headed out after her, through the front door and down the hall. Seeing her she ignored his call to her. She hit the elevator button, once then twice, harder and faster, wanting it to come.
"Livia," he repeated coming up behind her, his hand moving to her shoulder turning her around to face him.
"Don't Peter," her voice waivered but held warning as he watched her bottom lip tremble. She bit down and he watched as she grimaced from the pain, wondering if blood would seep out. One hand stayed planted firmly on her shoulders, making sure she wouldn't turn away or run.
"You can be angry all you want, but I didn't do anything to hurt you," he reminded her.
"I'm not angry with you," she shook her head, glancing away feeling her eyes well up. She did not want him to see her like this! "Peter, please." She shifted in his grasp trying to get away.
"I'm right here for you, Livia." He breathed pulling her closer, her body falling into his as his hand guided her head into the crook of his neck. He could feel wetness seeping against his skin but he didn't say anything. Didn't laugh at her or joke about it. He just held her until she finally settled down, neither saying a word.