Fanfiction Prompt: Peter leaves after finding out he's from the other universe. Takes place immediately after Olivia has told Walter he is gone; she has looked for him everywhere; except her house; when she returns there and breaks down, Peter is there to witness her moment of weakness and drabble ensues.
Disclaimer: I don't own them but if I ever win the lottery I might by the rights to Peter at least!
Leaving Olive
She didn't know how she made it home; the whole drive had been a blur of muted colors and sounds. The icy grip of fear in the pit of her stomach and the lump in her throat that she refused to acknowledge making her breath hitch uncontrollably every few minutes.
She would keep it together.
She had to.
Peter was gone.
The utter desperation and panic on Walter's face when she'd told him his son had left the hospital alone, checked himself out against the doctors wishes and fled was more then she could bare.
She'd felt those same emotions when she'd gone to the hospital and entered Peter's room only to find it empty.
Instantly she'd known, though she tried in vain to clamp down on the panic she felt, her heart hammering in her chest like she was running a marathon instead of trying to calmly ask the nurse if Peter Bishop had been moved to another room.
Of course he hadn't.
He left.
He had every right to be angry, to need some time to think things through, to process and accept; but leaving in the dead of night with no warning did not have the air of someone working through things.
It had the air of the Old Peter Bishop.
Run.
Hide.
Avoid.
Wallow in the loathing, and blame for a childhood he once thought was lost between his depressive mother and eccentric father; a childhood that was in fact Stolen away from what could have been a normal life, by the very man he'd just started to accept as a father he could love, and try to accept.
The anger that had rolled off of him like ocean waves when a storm is coming to shore, churning and threatening of violence, in the first few months of their partnership while he'd struggled to deal with his estranged father , and his eccentricities.
Those thickly churning waves had rocked her equilibrium on more than one occasion, certain that things were moments away from boiling over into destruction and the end of everything she was struggling to hold onto.
That same storm had permeated the room in the Hospital, soaked into the walls, and her skin, filled her senses burning the back of her throat and insides like acid. But now it was not a storm threatening a coast it had yet to reach; it was the culmination of a storm coming full circle to ravage and maim and destroy.
She'd felt it, right down to her bones, along every inch of skin, clenched in every fiber of her being ready to spring, to ripe and tear.
Whether that was some side effect of the cortexiphan, or simply imagined emotion, a product of the empathy she always seemed to feel for Peter, whatever his plight was at that moment - Olivia couldn't tell. Whichever it was, hardly mattered.
That intense anger that burned along her bones and bubbled in the back of her mind like someone holding their hand to a flame, was not a 'cool down' kind of absence.
The permanent feel of that empty room struck her like a slap in the face, another reminder that this was goodbye without the courtesy of a warning.
A warning she'd desperately needed.
Though Olivia was certain even if she'd had months of warning she would still be standing here feeling lost, alone and abandoned without direction or hope.
He hadn't bothered to call her to say he was checking out; which could only mean he blamed her too. He knew she had figured it out; and hadn't told him.
Fuck you, Walter Bishop.
And Fuck you Too Dunham.
Olivia's mind reeled with the memories of trying to talk Walter into telling Peter he was from the other side, then trying to talk Walter out of it; Fear that he would react badly churning her stomach. Knowing that his knowledge of what really happened as a child could result in only one thing.
Nina Sharp's knowing look when she'd smugly announced she knew what Olivia really wanted, and she'd had no choice but to humbly accept the truth; running from the office with her tail all but tucked between her legs in admitted defeat.
She couldn't function without Peter.
She couldn't afford to lose Peter.
She couldn't Live without Peter.
She Needed Him.
Olivia's breath caught in her chest, seeming unable to perform the simple function of passing in and out, it was like trying to breathe with wet socks stuffed into her lungs; like trying to pull air from water, her muscles spasmed and rebelled unable to find relief, needing to heave in great volumes of air and choke them back out again, unable to find a normal rhythm, unable to find the control she normally maintained without conscious thought or effort. Her world was falling apart; it seemed her body's ability to function was going with it.
Someone had crammed a bowling ball into her throat and air simply refused to pass by it normally, wheezing and hiccupping Olivia fought for every breath, clawed and scrapped her way toward composure, keeping a death grip on her nerves.
She had to keep it together.
Sniffing and trying to draw in a deep breath only seemed to make breathing harder.
Just hurry up and get inside.
Olivia pulled their black SUV into her parking space, how many times had she sat with Peter in this thing, discussed cases, and movies, and the crappy songs on the radio, laughed and teased.
Olivia fled from the vehicle like it was on fire. Slamming the door without locking it and flying towards the safety of her locked apartment.
She couldn't do this.
Not here, not where someone might possibly see her.
Olivia raced across the parking lot making it to her door in record time, she found her key despite her vision blurring on her, and hurried inside shutting the door, and the world out of her grief.
Head bowed against the hard wood Olivia felt the first real sob in the back of her chest, felt it bubble up uncontrollably to overwhelm the bowling ball in her throat to roar past her tightly clenched teeth. She felt her entire body convulse with each wailing sob, bringing her hands to cover her mouth did nothing to ebb the flow of anger, and fear and abandonment that sprung from every corner of her being.
Like a wild animal her torrent of emotions had overwhelmed her careful composure and would not stop now until she was too tired and numb to cry any longer.
This was it, this was what she'd been afraid of since she'd first realized what Peter was becoming to her, he was her lifeline, her touchstone, her grounding rod, her confidant and friend, more than that.
Olivia was aware that in the beginning she'd unwittingly tried to distance herself from Peter in the wake of the disaster with her partner John. She'd pushed him away and tried to keep him at bay with her pressed lips and prickly demeanor and he'd seemed amused by her antics and endeavored to throw her off balance, and charm her nearly to tears of frustration.
As a result instead she'd found herself transferring her emotions jumbled with turmoil and confusion and guilt onto Peter.
She'd used him as an anchor to keep herself grounded and centered, to help maintain her focus in the here and now. It had been Peter who'd called her back so many times when she was so close in those first few cases to following John where she could not go, Peter who had helped her maintain her sanity and a sense of who she was, when she wasn't really sure herself.
And overtime she'd come to realize that Peter not only warranted those feelings and emotions of trust and acceptance and warmth she'd transposed over their partnership unwittingly, he inspired them and returned them.
And now, just like John he was gone. And just like with John it was her own damn fault, she'd failed him, like she'd Failed to help John to realize what was happening in his life, to save him.
She'd failed to bridge the gap with Peter, failed to ground him the way he had grounded her.
She'd re-built her fragile glass house around Peter Bishop with his permission and had failed to invite him into it. And now, he'd left smashing the walls on his way out with a sledgehammer.
Olivia felt her legs give and let herself slump to the floor no longer even trying to stop the wails that left her body, she was lost. She was broken, and alone; and this time there would be no white knight to fix her.
She'd accidently slain him while aiming for the dragon.
Like Don Quote she'd destroyed her whole world following the ravings of a lunatic.
And now here she was left waiving her cardboard sword at paper windmills while the hero exits stage left, never to be seen again.
Next Part is Peters POV and Smut! Should be up by next weekend! Thanks for Reading and Feedback if you like it! ;)