Seattle.

Pt 1; You're Gonna Be Fine

The two knocks on the hotel door wouldn't have been enough to wake Olivia if she had been asleep. Luckily for the one doing the knocking, after the last few days she had lived through, Olivia couldn't foresee a time too soon when she'd peacefully be able to drift off to sleep.

In her Northwestern shirt and a pair of sweats, Olivia Dunham climbed from the hard, hotel mattress and padded her way, barefoot, to the door, cautiously checking the peephole before slipping the locks sideways. She opened the door, her long, blonde hair framing her face as she gave her somewhat unexpected visitor a smile.

"I don't know about you, but I can't sleep."

Peter Bishop stood in front of her in the same long-sleeved MIT shirt and pajama bottoms that he had donned the night before. This time, the addition of a bottle of whiskey was in his left hand.

"Are you up for some company? A drink?" He paused, his lips pursing together in a shrug that drew a smile out of Special Agent Olivia Dunham. "Come on, anything to make me forget that someone just died from extracting dreams from patients."

Olivia smiled. Peter's carefree, I'm-just-worried-about-the-day attitude fooled her very little. He may have been haunted by their latest closed case, but it was more likely that after the death and body snatching of Charlie Francis, he was checking up on her.

"Come on in."

With the door propped open, Olivia watched as Peter slipped past her and into the room, stopping briefly at the mini bar to extract a pair of plastic cups before he walked over to the chair on the opposite side of the couch. As he pulled apart the cups and began to pour a drink for himself and, of course, one for her, Olivia smiled. A year ago, Peter Bishop in her room after midnight, checking up on her, would have never happened. Hell, he would have disconnected his phone to stay away from her. Looking after Walter had opened up a side of him that his acquaintances in Iraq would say didn't exist – he cared for others more than himself. And not only that, but he was good at caring for others.

"Where did you even get that?" Olivia asked, motioning to the bottle of whiskey as she made her way to the couch, sitting down directly in front of Peter and the pseudo-bar that he had set up on the table between their seats. "Or do you have a late-night liquor connection in Seattle, too?"

There it was. The grin and chuckle that had first made Olivia think that maybe, some part of her was very, very attracted to Peter. So carefree, so charming. In that one smile his wit and wisdom shone through his face, lighting up his eyes as it drew up the corners of his mouth. He didn't try, but he was charming. The same part of her that was attracted to him, drawn to him, even, was the small piece of her that wondered periodically if he was seeing anyone.

"No connection, sorry. Just good old, bribing the hotel bartender to sell me an entire bottle. I probably vastly overpaid for this little nightcap."

"You could have just asked me to the bar."

Peter glanced up as he passed her a cup, letting the silence fall over them as he watched her. He used the quiet, dimly lit room to say what he could not voice. No. He could not have asked her to the bar. In public, Olivia became Olivia Dunham. She'd never talk to him personally, one on one, not like she had earlier when she told him the story of meeting Charlie. When he had seen the hurt, the pain and the loss covering her face in something that made not just his heart but his entire soul sink in sadness for her.

In public, he could never have her. He could never have her alone. That soft, gentler side of Agent Dunham that eluded Peter only came out when they were face-to-face in a quiet room.

In public, he'd never have a chance.

They drank. Their hands raising the cheap, hotel cups to their lips in unison and even lowering them at the same moment. Peter smiled, hoping Olivia had noticed the synchronized sip, but soon realized that unlike Peter's eyes, which were perfectly trained on Olivia, Olivia's eyes were resting on the photograph still on the table.

Charlie's death and bodysnatching had been a shock to everyone, but hardest on Olivia. And why not? Her best friend at the bureau, her confidant and her protector. Peter had known it would be difficult for Olivia, but after her emotional display earlier, he suddenly realized it was going to be a lot harder for her than he could have imagined. Olivia Dunham wasn't one to show pain and Peter guessed that even hopped up on Walter's home-made psychedelics, he couldn't have imagined Olivia's pain.

"You know," Peter lifted himself up, his cup finding a resting spot on the table as he moved from the chair, to the couch, his body settling down against hers close. "You are going to be fine."

Her head bounced once, slowly, in a firm nod, but Peter could read that she didn't know whether or not to believe those words. Everything about her body language gave her away – her fingers nervously grasping the small cup too tightly in her lap, her tense shoulders, her lips, God, those kissable, beautiful lips, pressed together, sealing off any emotional words from leaving her mouth. Heaven forbid she bare her soul twice in one trip, Peter thought.

Peter's hand came up from his knee, pushing Olivia's hair behind her ear, revealing her profile to him as she sat, statue-like on the couch beside him. It was as if a fringe event had turned her to stone, right that moment.

"He wasn't the only one to care about you, Livia."

Silence engulfed the room again as Peter's words trailed off without reciprocation. He hadn't expected it, no, but in her silence he could feel her hurt and her distraction from the day. Unlike those that had died in their last case, Olivia's bad dreams wouldn't be filled with monsters and demons. Peter knew they'd only be filled with Charlie and the thing that had taken him from her and no amount of talking, no amount of whiskey in a cup could delude the nightmares that would come to her.

"You're gonna be fine. But, I'm here if you need me." Peter's hand softly grazed the side of Olivia's face, a final motion of comfort as he prepared himself to stand up. The last thing he expected was for Olivia to reach out to him, to open her mouth again, but to his surprise, both happened simultaneously.

"Peter—"

Before he managed to stand up, Olivia's hand caught his that had just came off her face. She made no other move. Even in the silence, Peter's presence in the room comforted her, drew her into a deeper place where she didn't have to think about the disasters, about the other universe, hell, she didn't even have to think about Charlie. She had to think about Peter, the man offering himself to her.

Olivia watched as Peter, not even in a standing position yet, sunk back down onto the couch next to her. His body was noticeably closer than it had been just moments before, but after re-examining the own tone in her voice as she had said his name, Olivia wasn't all too surprised that he had decided to close the gap between their thighs. Need. Pure need and emotion socked all in her usually strong voice.

It wasn't often she reached out for any kind of assistance in her life, and Olivia was aware Peter knew it. The fact that she had, in one word, asked him to stay, signaled to him that her silence wasn't the cold shoulder.

It was grief.

"I'm here." Peter's fingers slipped away from Olivia's as he sat back with her, his arm coming up and around her shoulder. Both their bodies moved back into the couch as he pulled her smaller frame into his chest, feeling her curl against him for the comfort she was too proud to ask for. The smell of her hair and clothes, the sound of her breathing against his thin shirt, brought a sigh to his lips and, very slowly, he wrapped his other arm around her, too, drawing her into a full hug.

His cheek fell down against the top of her head, his stubble catching her fine, blonde hair as she moved nearer to him. This time, he let the silence swallow them whole. When he felt her head tilt up he knew her eyes were searching for his face and, giving her what she needed, his head dropped down so he could meet her gaze.

The movement brought them closer than he had intended and, with her lips just inches from his, there was only one thing he could rightfully think to do at the moment. Without a moment of hesitation he craned his neck down more to her and closed the gap between their faces, his warm lips meeting her soft ones, sealing a kiss so gentle, so long in the making, that it was nearly enough to vanquish thoughts of their past few days from both their minds.

"Livia.."