She looks like absolute hell. Livid bruises across one elegant cheekbone, cuts on her knuckles and the backs of her hands. Shoulders hunched forward, picture of misery and I'm torn between relief that she's ok and rage that she ran straight into harm's way yet again. A nurse is wrapping her right wrist, covering the bruises there. Olivia's arguing with her about something, brow furrowed and frowning stubbornly. Sighs, rolls her eyes and looks up, scanning the room in a nervous pattern. The ER is teaming but she sees me through the crowd as I weave my way towards her and she makes a relieved little sound when I reach her.

"I need a ride home." She's swinging her legs impatiently, wearing scrubs that fit her like a tent.

"They're letting you go already?" Frowning at this 'cause there's no way in hell they should be letting her out yet. I don't even know how she got here. Astrid was light on details when she called and I was more interested in getting here than asking questions.

"Peter... please." There's an edge of panic to her voice, notes of fear I've never heard from her before and it elicits a sympathetic response that makes my palms sweat and pulse race. "I need to go home. There's nothing wrong that I need to stay in the hospital." Pleading look and she has to know I can't resist. Someone else has to say no to her. Where the hell is everyone else?

"Where's Broyles? Astrid said he'd be here."

"Upstairs. Waiting for me to be moved to a room." Slightest raise of her eyebrow and the corner of her mouth twitches up in a tiny smile. I'm torn between sobbing and laughing, stunned that she can even attempt a joke.

"Is that a good idea? Pissing him off?"

Shrugs just her left shoulder and the nurse is done with her wrist. "I'm not staying here."

"You have your clothing somewhere?" and jesus that was the wrong thing to ask. Her breathing goes fast and shallow and she's shaking her head but it's not in answer to my question. Her eyes are unfocused, seeing through me. I want to smash my fist through something, preferably the face of whoever hurt her and there's a tiny little bit of me that wants to shake her, too. God, she's stupid sometimes and I thought I was self-destructive but I've got nothing on her.

"Hey, Olivia. It's ok. The scrubs are fine. You can wear those home. Ok?" Her eyes slowly focus on mine, coming back from miles away and she shudders.

"Yeah. I just wanna go home."

The nurse is looking at me disapprovingly, glaring, but she goes to get the release forms anyway. Olivia's eyes are glassy by the time she gets back. The nurse's are icy, all directed at me, like this is my fault and I feel guilt enough already, I don't need someone else helping out in that department. The last few days have been hellish and exhausting and I've discovered new depths to my self-loathing. I've also discovered that I'm completely unable to function without her, a truth laid bare by circumstance and unavoidable. It pesters my thoughts as I watch her now.

She struggles signing the endless forms and I'm guessing sprain rather than fracture. Hurting her badly enough and I want to take the pen and sign for her. Sure that wouldn't go over well with Nurse Ice Capades and I just want to get out of here as fast as possible so I watch her struggle with the pen and try not to cause trouble. Finally done, a fist full of prescriptions and we're on our way. The lovely nurse gives me a final glare and it dawns on me that she's cast me in the role of abusive boyfriend, Olivia's bruises and defensive wounds reinforcing the idea.

My hand's shaking as I lay it on her back to guide her out and I'm unprepared when she flinches away.

"Olivia?"

She doesn't answer, just wraps her arms around herself. I keep my distance and feel a little sick when she doesn't drift towards me like usual. She's shivering before we reach the parking garage and I hand her my jacket. Pulls it around herself awkwardly, trying to avoid using her right hand. Try to help her into the car and she all but snarls at me for the effort. It's a fight not to snarl back, not to yell, not to demand why she has to do everything alone, not to take my fear out on her.

She's out cold when I park in front of her building. I kill the engine and come around to her side. I wonder if I could get away with carrying her upstairs but the chance for physical harm is pretty high if she wakes up and tries to kill me. Pass on that. The bruise is spreading to the soft skin under her eye and she's going to have a hell of a shiner by morning. Her lips are parted slightly, breathing ragged and I hate to wake her but I'm freezing my ass off out here without my jacket.

"Wake up. Olivia, we're home," and I wince at the slip, glad she's still asleep. "Hey, let's go in. It's cold out here." I brush my fingers across her cheek just as her eyes flutter open, then she's drawing away, whimpering in fear.

"Don't." The pleading in her voice kills me.

"It's me. Olivia, you're safe. It's ok." I rock back on my heels, crouching against the curb to try and give her space. She's shivering violently and seeing her so terrified makes my stomach twist and I have to bite back a sob. "Olivia... look at me. Look."

She meets my eyes and I can see her forcing the panic away. She relaxes slowly, mumbling apologies. I mumble soothing things back. Hold my hand out to her. "Come on. Let's go inside."

Hesitates before letting me help her, of course. She doesn't pull away as we walk up the steps. She doesn't protest when I take the keys from her as she fumbles with the lock. She's weaving a little when she walks across the room.

"I'm gonna go change."

"Sure. Where do you want these?" Rattle the little bottles of pills.

"Kitchen."

Pain meds and antibiotics. Snoop in her fridge for a moment on the pretense of getting her a glass of milk to wash them down, but it's nearly as empty as the one in my hotel room. Head towards where she disappeared with thoughts of grocery shopping, gallant Peter saving the day with a carton of milk and a couple cans of soup.

Her back is towards me, injured arm tangled in a sleeve and she gets the shirt tugged down a second too late.

"Jesus, Olivia. What the hell?"

"Nothing."

Moving towards her, drawn, my hand's on her shoulder and she freezes. I whisper her name and my voice sounds strangled, alien and I'm not sure what she hears but her head drops forward and she nods slightly.

I brush my fingers down her spine, barely touching, to the hem of her shirt. Lift it slowly and I'm trying not to touch her skin because I just don't trust myself and it looks even worse the second time I see it.

Roundish bruise, vivid red in the center, spreading like a blight over her pale skin. It's over her spine, just below her shoulder blades and my mind stalls out trying to figure out what the fuck they did to her.

"Olivia...?" My voice is shaking and there's no way I can finish the question, but she hears it anyway.

"I don't know what it was. The normal tox screen didn't show anything. I had them send a blood sample to the lab." Her voice is flat. Cold and quiet and I know it's how she keeps from screaming.

I'm staring at the mark, transfixed and I forget myself. Brush my fingers over it. She shivers and makes a mewling sound. She's swaying on her feet and she should be in bed, not letting me gawk at her wounds. My mind's stuck chanting "she's hurt," and the bruise is the ugliest thing I've ever seen and it has no business being on her. She's hurt and I couldn't stop it. She's hurt and I've splayed my hand across her back. She's hurt and I'm moving before my brain registers the intent and by then it's too late. She's hurt and I press my lips gently, gently to her back and the breath she's been holding gusts out with the ghost of a sound that might be my name.

I pull her shirt down and step back. "Walter will find out what it was. We'll find out."

She turns and looks as dazed as I feel. Nods, then backs up a few steps towards the bed. "I'm... I'm really tired." She's thinking carefully about her words and I can tell many are rejected before they pass her lips. "Thank you... for driving me... and..."

"Of course."

She's nodding and the backs of her legs hit the bed, stopping her retreat.

"I'll come by and check on you in the morning."

"You don't... I mean... if you want to. Yeah." She looks puzzled by her lack of resistance.

"G'night, Olivia." Pick my jacket up from the floor where she dropped it and retrace my steps to the door, locking it before I leave. The jacket smells of her and I want to bury my face in it. I lean against the car and exhaustion catches up with me and I contemplate crawling into the backseat rather than driving across town. I weigh the merits of calling a cab or Astrid. I wonder vaguely if Walter's a safer driver than I am right now. I'm getting strange looks from a guy walking his dog.

Take myself home and lie sleepless in my bed, tired to the core and unable to stop my racing mind thinking of all the things I should have said to her. Tomorrow, I vow, and know it's a lie, but it's a nice enough lie to sing me to sleep.