Spoilers: 6B!
Disclaimer: No inFRINGEment intended
Author's notes: I would like to dedicate this to Elialys, who tortures me with her amazing stories, made me change my mind about Alt!Livia, and who I'm sure has some Sam Weiss thing going because I'm positive she can see the future, and as an early birthday gift.
This is not beta, an apology in advance for all the mistakes.
Amanece
Fear should not decide love.
She is sitting alone on her living room, a freshly open whiskey bottle on the table and a half full glass on her hand, when she allows her brain to show her that image, the one she first saw visiting a nursing home, the one she could see tonight in a photograph; herself and Peter, gray to the last hair smiling, old, together.
Maybe he is right, maybe she is the one stopping them right now, because despite Simon's words she was truly forgiven what happened, maybe not completely forgotten but forgiven; but she is so afraid; afraid that if she lets another person in, if she lets him in again, she would end disappointed and unable to stand up again, afraid that this is all she has, that she can be only this, and it's not bad; she is this way and is, as Walter put it, what makes her so good at her job, but what if happiness is not part of her? What if somehow she has already face happiness and let it pass?
She had been happy with John, why can't she be again?
Because John and she, or she and anybody else had never face this kind of complications; nobody had ever make her question herself so much and in such deep level.
Olivia slowly let the glass reach the table and places it there.
She had forgiven him; she really has so, why can she not forgive herself? There is nothing wrong with her, and she feels somehow so broken, impossible to put back together.
A few weeks ago she thought this would be unfixable, but now… had a year not been enough to shed her fears?
You belong with me.
Had that changed?
If she closes her eyes she can still feel his lips over hers, she can feel him.
She quickly stands up and grabs her coat and then puts it on the back of the couch, her hands go to her hair, thinking; this is crazy, this is nuts, you cannot possibly do this, she grabs her coat again and is halfway to put it on when she just stands there, one arm inside her coat and the other on the back of the couch, you cannot do this, she takes the coat off and places it on the coat rack again, think about it, just think it through and maybe in the morning…, she grabs the coat again and puts it on, her hands shaking while buttoning it, you don't have to do this, you have nothing to probe, she grabs her scarf and puts it on, the shaking of her hands increasing with each movement, you don't have to…
"Shut up!"
She screams to an empty apartment to nobody. Olivia looks down to the floor and takes a few calculated breaths; this is not to probe anything, this is not crazy, this is right, she wants so much to wake up next to him; she blushes and smiles trying to imagine what it would be like and the mere thought, just the simple blur of the image is so beautiful.
She is half through the door when the voice comes back.
What if he glimmers again?
She turns to look at the coffee table and sees the whiskey bottle; she goes and grabs it before leaving.
He won't, and we'll still be beautiful.
The lights were on and she was petrified at the door, she counted to three and tried to knock, it didn't work, so she took her hand out of her back and nocked without even thinking about it.
He came to be with me when I needed him.
She closes the distance and places her lips over his, tentatively reaching out to his shoulder, she could feel immediately his arms around her waist…
You belong with me
…pulling her towards him, possessively, not an inch between them, he feels so desperate, she can hardly breathe…
I don't want to wake up tomorrow and find you gone.
…she feels as if she has given this huge leap of faith and let herself fall into the void and instead of crashing to the floor he caught her in his arms.
Olivia opens her eyes and he isn't glimmering anymore.
He is part of me.
She just wanted him.
Please, no more despair.
"I need you so much."
"When I wake up, please, don't let it be a dream, please… don't let it be a dream."
The first time Olivia wakes up the clock on the night table reads 2:30.
She opens one eye first with great effort, disorientated, she can see the ceiling from where she is buried beneath the soft blankets, and then the smell hits her, Peter, it is Peter all around her, intoxicating, then she feels the arm over her waist, the confortable weight.
She wants to see him, see his face, verify that this is not an illusion, that he is real.
Olivia turns to see Peter peacefully asleep, the moonlight illuminating his face through the opened curtain, she reaches out and places a hand over his rough cheek and he smiles in his sleep.
I've seen what the two of us together look like and it's beautiful.
And the glimmer remains unseen.
The second time she wakes up its past four o'clock.
Olivia sits on the bed, the cold air of early morning making her shiver; she was having a bad dream but she can't remember what was it about; she feels a pressure in her chest though, anguish and longing, as if the world has shifted somehow… the crook of her arm hurts, exactly where the needle mark's that Peter kissed the previous night are; then she feels his hand on her shoulder… is as if the world goes white for a second, and she turns to look at him.
She feels the world shifting again.
Peter first thought is that he can get lost on how beautiful she looks; blond hair cascading down her back, skin as perfect and impenetrable as marble, and her eyes begging him to be real.
"I'm cold."
He gets up from the bed and walks shadowed by darkness, she can hear him rummaging through drawers and then he is back in bed helping her into one of his t-shirts, before getting into one himself; the scent qualms any other emotion she is feeling, anxiety gone, she can only feel him. Peter lies down pulling her with him always looking into her eyes, and it is not sadness or uncertainty or regret what neither of them can see in there, it is just an intensity impossible to describe.
Peter pulls her to him until her head is hidden on the space between his neck and his shoulder, their arms going around each other instinctively, not losing eye contact until Olivia's eyelids loose the battle and she closes her eyes, Peter draws her even nearer, if it is physically possible and kisses her hair.
"I'm here."
Walter has seen a lot during his life, horrors than can only come from nightmares, but he has also seen wondrous things: Elizabeth on her beautiful white dress on their wedding day, Elizabeth glowing, his newborn son, Peter; all of those had taken his breath away, but this… this is just beautiful.
He saw Olivia's car outside and he hurried inside hoping to find them at least talking, he found the glasses on the kitchen table and then followed what he hoped to be truth.
Olivia in Peter's arms peacefully sleeping.
Walter could only see strands of her hairs but it was obvious she was there, the rising and falling of the bed covers telling him that they were asleep.
He could already feel the tears forming in his eyes. He was so happy.
Slowly Walter exited the room closing the door behind him.
Maybe this time they could all eat the pancakes.
She can hear music somewhere, cars passing, the wind outside; she could feel light over her face, but most of all she feels warm, and she never, ever, ever wants to get up, or be out of the bed or out of the bedroom.
Olivia slowly opens her eyes, enjoying every second of the awareness, of the feeling… he is looking at her, his blue eyes shining with mirth, she suddenly feels the color rise to her cheeks and tries a smile.
"Hey."
He sounds happy, giddy; exactly how she feels; Peter's hand goes to her cheek touching it tenderly and his lips follow.
"Good morning."
Olivia practically grasps his t-shirt and draws him impossibly close to her, she hides her face on the crook of his neck, his scent intoxicating her, she feels his arms enclosing her, protecting her, and she allows herself to smile.
"Good morning."