Olivia's mind was a jumbled mess. It was like a television in which every single channel was filled with annoyingly loud static. She felt worse tonight than she ever had in the past. As she sat in her bubble bath, she tried her best to relax, but knew it was pointless. There was just too much going on right now. On top of the fact that a mutant human had almost eaten her earlier that day, her thoughts consumed her until she felt numb. Did she really travel to an alternate universe during her car accident? Did someone try to tell her something important? Was she treated with cortexiphan when she was only three years old? If she had been, what would happen to her? Would she develop strange powers too? These were only the beginning of the wildly abnormal thoughts repeating endlessly in her mind, only resulting in no answers and more questions.

Stepping out of the now lukewarm water, Olivia put on her robe and headed into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator only to find an empty jar of pickles, 2 slices of Kraft© Singles cheese, and a carton of eggs that were most likely expired. Looking in the cupboard, she found her box of Cornflakes and poured some into a bowl. Thoughts still rampaging through her mind, she opened the cupboard next to where she kept her cereal and reached in to find the half-empty bottle of whiskey. She had been drinking quite a bit these last couple of weeks, but it seemed to be the only way to stop the raging war in her head. What she really needed right now was some sleep. Yet, no matter how much she drank or how many sleeping medications she took, she just couldn't seem to fall into a peaceful slumber. When she did sleep, it was light and unsatisfactory. The slightest sound made her reach for her gun, adrenaline racing through her veins. After that happened, sleeping was simply impossible.

When would this stop? It seemed like nothing but bad had happened since John had died. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Peter Bishop had been a good thing. Maybe more than a good thing. Picking at her cornflakes, Olivia did her best to drown out her havoc mess of a mind with thoughts of Peter. The day she met him, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around his neck. Yet, it only took a few short hours for that feeling to dissipate. The way he looked at her when she'd gotten into the tank for the first time—she could tell that he genuinely cared for her, even though they'd just barely met. Ever since that moment, she'd grown to care for him more and more. Peter had been by her side constantly after the accident, holding her hand and making her feel safe when she felt nothing but. Whenever she woke up screaming and reaching for her gun in the hospital, he was always there with that look of concern in his sapphire eyes, stroking her sweaty hair until she fell back into sweet oblivion. He'd even bought her a huge bouquet of flowers the day she got to come home from the hospital. Olivia turned her head and saw the flowers in the middle of her kitchen table. Though they were wilted, she just couldn't bring herself to throw them away for some reason. Walking over to them, she lightly traced one of the flowers, watching a petal fall onto the wooden surface of the table. It was sad how much these flowers resembled her state of being—once vibrant and alive, slowly wilting away to nothing. If it hadn't been for Peter, she'd have wilted long ago.

After downing 2 glasses of whiskey and only eating about 10 Cornflakes, Olivia decided it was time to attempt to get some sleep. It was already 11:00 PM, and she had to wake up early for work. Only seconds after getting situated under the covers, her cell rang. Assuming it was work, she answered,

"Dunham."

"Hey, it's me. Did I wake you?" Peter spoke softly. She felt her entire body relax when she heard his sultry voice, not even aware that it had been tense in the first place.

"Hi. No, you didn't. I just got into bed, actually. What's up?"

"I just wanted to check on you. See how you were feeling." Olivia felt her heart warm as he spoke those words. Nobody else had bothered to call her lately—not even Rachel. Not that she minded; it was just nice to have someone that cared about you enough to call in the middle of the night to see if you were okay. Besides, she had been doing well with keeping up her façade that everything was going great. She needed Broyles and her colleagues to still consider her sane, and she thought she'd been doing a great job since nobody seemed to ask her if she was alright anymore. Except Peter.

"I'm okay. Thanks for checking up on me." Peter was silent on the other end for a few moments.

"You're lying to me. What's wrong, Liv? You've been worrying me lately," Peter admitted. Hearing the concern in his voice was just too much in that moment, and she broke. She was exhausted and weak, so tired of pretending she was okay when all she wanted to do was scream. She tried to compose herself as the tears streamed down her cheeks so Peter wouldn't know she was having a mental breakdown.

"I'm fine, Peter. Really. I'm just tired," She whispered, trying to mask her sobs and failing miserably.

"Olivia, talk to me." She couldn't bring herself to answer him. She didn't want him to be worried about her and lose sleep, which she knew he had been. As much as she liked that he was concerned for her being, she didn't like that he wasn't sleeping because of her.

"I'm coming over," Peter insisted, hanging up without another word. What? He couldn't be serious. He might've been there for her in the hospital when she woke up screaming, but not once had he seen her cry. She was supposed to be the tough and collected FBI agent. She didn't want him to see her like this, and there was no way that she was going to be able to stop crying anytime soon. She had been a bottle of soda shaken up and ready to explode at any moment, Peter's distraught voice being the driving force that opened the lid and let the contents erupt. Confused and distressed, Olivia locked herself inside her bathroom without bothering to turn on the light. She leaned her back against the door, slowly sliding down until she was curled up on the icy linoleum.

"Olivia?" Josh yelled as he stepped inside her apartment. She'd given him a key months ago, but he'd never actually used it until now. As he walked in, he noticed an empty bottle of whiskey and a half full bowl of Cornflakes without any milk. Looking inside her refrigerator, he winced. Why hadn't he come by sooner? He'd known there was something going on with her for weeks, and he hadn't done anything until now. Sure, he'd asked her how she was feeling every day, and she always said she was fine. Yet, there was something inside of him that knew she'd been lying. The mask she'd been wearing lately might've deceived everyone else, but not him. He knew her better than most people and was somehow sensitively attuned to her emotions. Olivia was a pretty introverted person that enjoyed her space, but that was no excuse for him not to have checked up on her. She had been through an immensely traumatic experience, not to mention the possibility of being treated with drugs as a child, and just the everyday Fringe cases that usually involved near-death experiences. She might've been the strongest person he'd ever known, but everyone had a breaking point. As he entered her room, he found her cell phone lying on her pillow and her covers thrown back as if someone had left the bed in a hurry. He looked at the bathroom door and didn't see a light on. Heading out of her room to go check for her somewhere else, he heard an almost indistinguishable shaky intake of breath.

"Olivia? Are you in there?" Peter questioned, leaning his ear against the door. Listening closely, he could hear her crying softly in the dark, his heart shattering into a million pieces. "Please open the door, Liv."

His soothing voice just made Olivia sob harder. Her sides were beginning to ache from the intense heaving she'd been doing for the past 20 minutes. She heard him sit on the floor, and soon his gentle murmur drifted under the door.

"I'm going to stay here until you come out. I don't care how long it takes, I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't want you to see me like this," Olivia confessed, her voice barely audible.

"Why? It's not going to change the way I feel about you, Olivia. You will always be the strongest, most tenacious person I've ever met." When she didn't answer him, he continued. "Everyone needs someone to hold them when they cry, Liv. Let that person be me."

As much as she didn't want him to see her during her weakest moment, the idea of him holding her was just so tempting. The one and only time he had held her after one of her all-consuming, overwhelming tank experiences had been wonderful. She had let him envelop her a little longer than necessary, reveling in the feel of his muscular chest and his protective arms wrapped tightly around her. She would've stayed there for hours if the alarms in her head hadn't started to go crazy. This man was her friend, her colleague. She had fallen for someone she worked with once, and she didn't want to do that again. John had broken her heart and left her scarred and damaged almost beyond repair. But then Peter had come along with those sparkling blue eyes that always gazed at her as if she walked on water. John had never looked at her like that. She knew without a doubt that Peter sincerely cared about her: not just when she was having a rough time, but always. He was legitimately interested in everything she had to say and was intrigued whenever she opened up to him. She wished so badly that she'd never met John so she could outwardly fall for Peter instead of trying to pretend she only saw him as a friend. She trusted him with her life, but was still wary with her heart. It made absolutely no sense.

"Livia, please. Please just open the door." Olivia heard his voice break, on the verge of crying. She sincerely couldn't resist him any longer. Unlocking the door, she flung it open and fell into his awaiting arms. Without saying a word, Peter folded her into an unyielding embrace. She buried her face into his neck and silently sobbed, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt in the back.

"Peter what's happening to me?" She choked out between sobs.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here. We will figure it out together." Peter rocked her back and forth on her bedroom floor, running his fingers through her damp blonde hair. God, she was freezing. He wanted nothing more than to take all of her pain and put it on himself. He couldn't stand seeing her so disheveled and hurt.

Peter. Olivia repeated his name in her mind as she cried, never wanting him to let go of her. Those stupid alarms telling her to run away were wailing, but she didn't care. Not right now. She was completely drained of every single ounce of willpower she owned, disoriented and frustrated about who she was and what was happening to her. In this moment, she needed Peter more than anything else. He was her rock; the only thing keeping her from going under.

After a long while, Peter felt her breathing begin to calm down and her trembling body relax against him. She let go of his shirt so she could hug his neck, her face still nuzzled against him. Stealing a quick glance at the clock, Peter saw that it was already past 2:00 AM. There was absolutely no way in hell he was letting her go to work today.

"It's late. Let me help you to bed," Peter insisted, standing up with her cradled in his arms like a small child. After turning off the bedside lamp, he set her down gently and moved the covers up until they reached her chin. Grabbing her cell phone, he turned it on silent and put it face down on the nightstand. Although she never once took her eyes off of him, he could tell she wasn't fully conscious of what was happening. He guessed it had to do with her estranged state combined with the whiskey. He prayed to God she would be able to sleep. Sitting on the bed, he leaned down, tenderly kissed her forehead, and smoothed his hand down her beautiful face. When his fingers brushed her skin, her eyes closed instantaneously, a pleasant look of comfort easing her tense features. He continued to stroke her hair until he assumed she was asleep. Languidly, Peter stood up and backed up out of her room as quietly as possible. He had just reached the doorway when he heard her pained voice as soft as a secret:

"Please don't go."

She didn't have to say another word. Thankful he was already in sweats and a T-shirt, he crawled under the covers and pulled her close. He had dreamed of holding her like this at night, under completely different circumstances, of course. She rested her head on his chest as he rubbed her back. It only took a few minutes for her breathing to become rhythmic and deep, indicating she was asleep at last. He finally felt like he could breathe, knowing she was safe and content. It scared him how much he cared about this woman. He'd never been one to stay in one place for long, but the thought of leaving her made him panicky. He just wished she felt the same way about him as he felt about her. Whenever they'd have a sentimental moment, she'd always shut it down quickly. Peter wasn't sure if it was because of him personally or John, or perhaps both. Whatever her reason for not wanting something more with him, it didn't change the fact that he wanted something more with her. Yet, if she only ever wanted to be friends, as hard as it would be, he could deal with it. As long as he got to see her smile everyday and know she was happy, then that was all that mattered to him. He'd never push her for a relationship if she didn't want one. Closing his eyes, he secured her unconscious form to his body. Within minutes, he drifted off, dreaming about Olivia Dunham like he did every night.

Olivia was awake but couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. She knew that any second her mind would begin its ardent combat, and was dreading it with each passing moment. But as time went on, nothing happened. Her psyche was calmer than it had been in weeks. Opening her eyes, she sat up in bed, surprised that she actually felt refreshed. Suddenly, she felt something move across her lap. Looking down in bewilderment, she saw it was an arm. She jumped when she saw Peter Bishop lying opposite of her in the bed. As he stirred, she felt her heart begin to race in panic. What had happened last night? As his eyes fluttered open and focused on her, he smiled lazily. There was no denying that he was beautiful.

"Morning, Liv. How are you feeling?" Peter asked, sitting up next to her. While he awaited her answer, he realized that her brow was burrowed in confusion. She seemed anxious, as well. Had she forgotten what had happened last night?

"Peter…what…?" Those two sputtered words confirmed his worries.

"Liv, you don't remember anything?" She shook her head as tears started to form in her eyes. What had she done?

"Olivia, hey, nothing happened," Peter reassured. He knew she thought that they'd done something she'd regret. How much whiskey did she drink? He tried scooting closer to her on the bed, but she scooted away. His heart began to ache. "I was worried about you, so I called you last night to see if you were okay. You said you were fine, but I knew you were lying, so I came over," Peter looked down at his fidgeting hands, his voice becoming reticent. "Then I held you while you cried. When I tucked you into bed and started to leave, you asked me to stay. So I kept holding you all night long. That's all, Olivia."

During his explanation, small details started to make their way to the surface of Olivia's consciousness. His soothing voice under the door as he begged her to come out; the way his arms tightened around her while she sobbed; his melodic heartbeat as she fell asleep on his chest. She thought she had dreamt it, but now she knew it was real. His crystal blue eyes gazed at her with such an immense hope that she couldn't help but move closer to him. A smile played at the corners of her lips.

"I remember. Not everything, but just enough." When that slow, crooked grin appeared on his face, it took everything she had not to kiss him. He had come to her apartment in the middle of the night and held her for hours while she broke down; not because he felt he had to, but because he'd wanted to. Nobody had ever done anything like that for her in her entire life. Holding each other's gaze, their heads slowly began come together like magnets. Olivia closed her eyes, anticipating the feel of his lips on hers, when suddenly Peter's phone rang. They both jumped with a start having been lost in the moment. Peter wanted nothing more than to throw the stupid thing across the room. As he answered it, Olivia glanced at the clock. It was 11:45 AM. Frantically bolting out of bed, she sprinted to her closet to rip her work clothes off their hangers. How had she slept this late? Why hadn't Peter woken her? Wait, why wasn't he at work?

"Olivia, hey, take it easy. I texted Broyles earlier and told him we wouldn't be coming into work today. He's cool with it." Peter affirmed as he ended his call. "That was Astrid on the phone. She said that they're having a slow day so far and that she'd call if anything significant happens."

Olivia felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off of her shoulders. She'd never been late to work in her entire life. Usually she would've been angry that he'd called her in, but she really could use a personal day. She hung her clothes back up and went back to sit next to him on her bed. He tilted his head, looking at her inquisitively.

"What is it?" She wondered.

"You never answered me when I asked how you were feeling." Peter was almost certain he knew what her answer would be. Just by looking at her, he could tell she felt good. Not to mention that he somehow sensed her contentment like he could with most of her feelings. She looked like his Olivia, whom he hadn't seen in such a long time. He'd missed her so damn much.

"Honestly, I feel better than I have in weeks." She looked into his eyes again, thinking about how they'd just almost just kissed. Now that she was fully awake, thanks to the adrenaline rush she'd received when she thought she was late for work, her rationality came into play. There was no doubt in her mind that she had feelings for Peter, but she just wasn't ready to pursue them. However, the idea of a relationship in the future was no longer impossible. All she knew was that since last night, everything between them had changed. When she looked at him in that moment, the usual uproar of alarms in her head was almost nonexistent. She was still wary to fall for a colleague again, but there was just something about Peter that made her feel like he would be worth the risk. Getting even closer to him on the bed, she took his hand in hers.

"You'll never know how much it means to me that you came here last night. It was the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

He ran his thumb over her knuckles. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, Olivia." There was something in the air between them—it was electric, almost tangible. Peter didn't know exactly what it was, but he knew he didn't want it to go away. He didn't want anything about this moment to go away. This was the very first time Olivia had allowed herself to look at him with affection without abruptly turning away. He'd been waiting so long for that.

Smiling warmly, she leaned in and lightly kissed his cheek. "I should probably get in the shower in case I get called in."

"Well, I was thinking that we could maybe spend the day together? You know, that way if we do get called in, it would be easy for us to get to the lab quickly."

Olivia giggled. Oh how he'd missed her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound Peter had ever heard. "Well, I guess you're right. It would be much more convenient if we were together," Olivia teasingly acquiesced.

"I couldn't agree more. So, I'll go home and get ready and pick you up in an hour? We can go eat at that little café that you like."

"That sounds wonderful."

Leaning in closely, he rested his hand on the small of her back and felt her sharp intake of breath. He positioned his lips so they were only centimeters away form her ear, and boldly whispered, "It's so good to finally have my Olivia back." With that, he kissed her forehead and left her sitting on her bed, completely breathless.

Maybe she was more ready for a relationship than she'd thought.