"How's the head?" Peter asked, sitting across from her on their private plane. He still couldn't believe he had the government on his side, taking his orders. It seemed too easy.

"Fine," Olivia shrugged eyeing the file, the information she'd acquired while in Iraq with Peter compiled with what she already knew. Her vision was doubling and making it difficult to read but she struggled through it, pretending to be okay. She didn't need him worrying about her. She could tell he was concerned as it was. He probably didn't even want her to go with him but Broyles had insisted he have an FBI detail, and she was his partner.

"You can keep lying to me," Peter stared at her, "but I'm just going to keep asking."

"It hurts, okay?" Her head shot up, grimacing from the pain. Honestly it wasn't as bad as it had been. She wasn't throwing up anymore and the visions had ceased. Now it was a constant dull throb. The sensation didn't let up but she tried not to let it ruin her life. It was difficult enough taking a drink of anything, her hands shaking. She wasn't used to being out of control and feeling his eyes constantly on her, watching her, it terrified her.

"Okay," Peter nodded, "that's an honest answer." He didn't understand why she wasn't trusting him. Had he done something wrong, hurt her in some way?

"It's not as though you've been forthcoming with me and Iraq," she muttered letting her attention fall back to the file. It was a distraction, a poor one and she reached for a pen as she felt the plane jolt. Her eyes closed and her skin paled feeling the turbulence unsettling to her stomach. It wasn't helping her head either.

He wasn't an idiot to see she was upset but he knew telling her the truth, it would change her opinion of him. He'd become a better man after he met her. He knew if she found out the truth, she'd probably never trust him again. He certainly wouldn't. He'd betrayed friends countless times, always looking out for one person, Peter Bishop. Or whatever name he went by.

"Oh God, I'm going to be sick," she muttered feeling the plane jolting again. She glanced around quickly, looking for something she could use. Her skin was clammy, her stomach somersaulting and she watched as Peter stood up as he'd been sitting across from her, finding a barf bag, and handing it to her before sitting with her.

The plane jolted and he reached onto her seat, "sorry." He apologized knowing he probably wasn't helping as much as he was trying. He buckled himself in beside her, watching as her head was bent down, the bag in her hands. He wanted to touch her, rub her back, help her any way he could, but he didn't want to make her feel worse either.

The turbulence seemed to settle and she closed the bag but kept her head bent down. She rubbed at her eyes, feeling them burning. Though the clammy and sweaty feeling had subsided she didn't feel great.

Peter finally rested a hand on her back. "What can I do?" His voice was soft, filled with concern. He knew coming clean about his past would just make them both feel dirty.

Finally she looked up, emitting a sigh as she glanced at him. "Nothing." She breathed staring at him, closing her eyes for a moment. She didn't think there was anything anyone could do. Just wait it out. The pain was excruciating. When would it end?

"Come here," Peter answered moving the arm rest and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He gently guided her head onto his shoulder, his fingers in her hair. "Close your eyes," he whispered keeping his voice soft and even.

"You're not worried I'll vomit on you?" She mumbled trying her best to relax.

"I'm really hoping you won't," Peter answered continuing his movements through her hair. "You looked really good today."

"Hmmm?" Her eyes remained closed, trying to rest. It was difficult though. She hadn't been able to sleep much lately. She chalked it up to the accident, the pain, the fact she was still afraid of what was to come. Not knowing, not remembering, haunted her but the memories that came back, the glimpses terrified her more.

"In Iraq," Peter smiled. "I like when we play dress-up," he was trying to get her mind off everything. "We should convince Broyles you need more undercover assignments."

"I wasn't exactly undercover." Though she hadn't gone in announcing she was FBI either. She was trying to fit in with their culture and customs, not raise any red flags. She knew there were people that were after Peter still, the fact he wanted a passport with a name other than his own was enough of an indication.

"You didn't have to be to look good," he smiled trying to flirt with her. He missed the jokes and smiles lately. He knew she wasn't doing so well but he hated being on the outside. Who was she talking to? There had to be someone she was confiding in. He wanted to be the one, damnit!

"Now you're just flirting with me, like all the girls you flirt with." She wasn't falling for his charms. Her eyes glanced up, shifting her head but keeping on his shoulder, staring at him.

"Who else?" He smiled down at her, his fingers pausing in her hair. "Give me a name."

"Rachel?" Olivia laughed, "don't tell me you didn't flirt with my sister."

"I plead the fifth?" Peter grimaced remembering the other Dunham. He wasn't sure what caused him to call Rachel, try and befriend her. At first he thought being friendly to her sister was a good idea, getting on Olivia's good side but then it changed things. He'd seen the streak of jealousy and as much as it excited him, he quickly realized he could lose the one person he cared most about---her.

"Only you could get away with that," she sighed feeling her body relax and the headache subsiding. She didn't attempt to move though, letting her eyes close once again.

"I won't hold it against you if you fall asleep," he could see the bags under her eyes. "I could use a few hours myself," he confessed.

"So sleep," she breathed feeling his fingers pushing her hair behind her ear. A moment later his fingers danced down her neck, causing her to shudder. "Peter." Her voice came out deep and throaty.

"Sorry," he smiled surprised by the effect. He knew it was likely involuntary but he saw the faint smile playing at the corner of her lips. It had felt good. He was certain. "Sleep."

"I can't," she sighed knowing it wouldn't happen---in a plane or in a bed. Sleep wasn't coming for her.

Peter nodded slowly, his touch working its way through her hair again. If he could calm her body down along with her mind, maybe the flight wouldn't be so bad? "Have you ever joined the Mile High Club?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Olivia's eyes opened moving her head off his shoulder feeling the pain incredibly nauseating. She groaned moving her head back down to his shoulder. Was this what her life would be like, her head on his shoulder forever? She knew that wasn't going to happen, it wasn't realistic or the problem. Right now she had a horrible headache and for whatever reason, whatever the cause, the way she was positioned with Peter was the perfect cure. It probably had more to do with the altitude and pressure, maybe the way her head was tilted and his weight supporting her. She didn't care. This was helping and if it involved using his shoulder for awhile, so be it.

Peter felt her head fall back to his shoulder and his fingers moved again through her hair soothingly. "I'm not suggesting we join it," he offered, "you can stay put."

"Good because I don't think I could so much as undress myself right now let alone you." Her hands still wouldn't stop shaking. She felt as though she were in withdraw, detoxing from something—she wasn't sure what.

Peter laughed, "so have you?" He was curious.

Olivia sighed, "isn't that a bit of a personal question?"

"Not really. I'm not asking who you had sex in an airplane with. Just if you have."

"Fine, yeah. Once." She breathed hoping that would shut him up.

Of course it didn't.

"Interesting." He nodded with a smile growing wider by the second.

"What about you?" She yawned. "I shared, now it's your turn."

"Never." Peter answered.

"You're lying," Olivia breathed, "I know your tells." Her hand found his thigh, resting her palm flat as she steadied herself, still trying to get comfortable.

"I don't have any," he'd always been great at deceiving people. If he had any tells, surely by now he would have been caught.

"Am I wrong? You were lying to me?" She wasn't upset, just disappointed he didn't trust her.

"Fine, once but I didn't get my happy ending so I wasn't sure it counted." He breathed. "Happy?"

Olivia shrugged, finally moving her head off his shoulder. Her neck was getting stiff and she didn't want to make him uncomfortable either. "Not really." Lately nothing had made her happy. Hearing about Peter with another woman, t hat certainly didn't do anything for her.

"Are you ever going to tell me what's going on with you?" He knew he sounded a bit harsh but feeling excluded wasn't so great either. "I saw your hands shaking the other day, when the headache started. You could barely walk straight, let alone make it to the bathroom to--- vomit." He had run off after her, only to see the door shut in his face. He heard her get sick and the flush of the toilet. He wasn't an idiot.

"If only I knew," she breathed closing her eyes. "Can we not talk about this, Peter?"

"Yeah, fine." He couldn't help but feel angry. All he wanted was to be there for her and at every step she was pushing him further away! Didn't she have any idea how he felt? It frustrated him to no end! He unbuckled himself from the seat beside her, climbing over and moving to the original seat he vacated when he'd gotten on the plane.

"You didn't have to move," Olivia's eyes opened with a heavy sigh.

"I think I'd prefer sitting here, sweetheart." His tone was the same one he'd used when they'd first met.

She felt her stomach somersault. She hadn't heard him call her that for at least a year. It wasn't exactly a term of endearment either, at least not the way he was saying it. "You know Peter, you have a real way with women."

"Is that so, sweetheart," he rolled his eyes, buckling himself in. The flight was already turbulent even if the plane wasn't jolting him around. He knew he was only making matters worse but she had gotten under his skin. There weren't many women he could say that about.

"Call me sweetheart one more time—"

"And you'll what?" Peter's head turned, staring at her, suddenly feeling terrible. She'd been going through hell and what was he doing to help her, argue? Certainly he'd been frustrated with her not trusting him but this wasn't going to win him any medals. "Forget it." He breathed closing his eyes turning his head towards the front of the cabin. Some things he just had to let go. He hated thinking Olivia might be one of those things.

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Okay not the happiest of endings. I'm thinking I might continue this for at least another chapter to resolve things. I love happy endings.

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