Hmm, so lately I've been kinda having a writer's block. But, finally, I got an idea for a fic. I was listening to the song I Shoulda Kissed U by Ryan Cabrera (yeah, he's like my guilty pleasure shhh! Haha.)

In the beginning of the series, it was emphasized how much Peter didn't want to be in Boston, and how much he wanted to leave. And I was wondering what would happen if he actually did leave. And what Olivia's reaction would be. So, basically, that's what this is. :)

Hope you enjoy, like always!

The hardest part about the whole thing was probably that he was out there. That he was in the exact same moment she was in, and he most likely wasn't thinking about her. And God, did she think about him. All of the time. Whether she's lying in bed, wondering what it was she did or sitting at her desk at work begging herself to concentrate. It was like as soon as he drove away, he drove right into her mind. Maybe this was karma. She forced him to come here, tricked him. And now that he's gone, she just wants him back again.

It's been over a month since Peter Bishop walked out. One morning, Olivia's waking up, subconsciously excited to see him at the lab. And the next moment she's being told that he's missing. No, gone. Because being missing would initially imply he wasn't where he thought he should be.

It was like John all over again. Except she knew that if John had away of coming back to her, he would. Peter obviously didn't care about her. How much she had gotten attached to him. How much it hurts her to know he ran away from her. No, he doesn't care. He never cared about anything but himself. So why did she care so much for him?

Sometimes, she'll be doing the simplest thing. Vacuuming her living room, maybe. And his face will randomly pop into her head and it takes all she can not to pick the vacuum up and throw it through the pretty little windows in her apartment. Sure, the memory of his face sent unwanted shivers of longing and butterflies. But, seeing his content, smirking face made her want to shoot something. How dare he leave the department? The lab? His father? Her?! What made him think he could do anything he pleased? Hurt anyone he wanted?

So, now, she found herself standing outside the bureau. The rain was pouring down in sheets, and she was frozen in place, staring out at it in the direction of her car. Of course she forgot an umbrella, and nothing but the small black coat to keep her warm. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the railing and leaned against it. She knew she'd have to get to her car eventually. The rain wasn't going to be letting up anytime soon. I wonder if it's raining where Peter is... Biting her lip, she blinked twice before mentally kicking herself. She couldn't keep thinking about him. It was self-torture.

"Liv?" She nearly jumped at the soft voice. Instead she bite back a gasp of surprise and glanced over her shoulder at Charlie. He's pulling on his coat, watching her intensely. "You know, you have to actually move to get to your car."

She just nodded slowly. "I know," she explained. "I'm just...stalling." She chuckled, but it came out forced and half-hearted. "Did um, did you get anywhere else..."

Glancing back at him, she saw him tilt his head, a look of disapproval floating over his features. "No, Liv. And I doubt I will. You need to stop this obsession with finding him. You hardly sleep, you look like a walking zombie! And even if you do find him, what are you going to do? You can't make him come back. He's gone." Olivia was slightly taken back by his outburst of honesty. Over the weeks, he's always avoided the subject of Peter, never bringing it up and then just saying a few words about it. "I'm sorry," he apologized. Taking a deep breath, she looked back out into the rain and rocked on the back of her heels. She could barely hear him take a step closer to her over the rain, but he's by her side.

"Shut up, Charlie," she sighs, narrowing her eyes at the rain.

"Olivia, you need to let it go," he told her, sternly. Letting her head whip around, she glared at Charlie. He just stared evenly back. Her anger is just confirming his accusations. Closing her eyes and letting her body relax, she hung her head.

They were silent for a long moment, and she tightened her grip on the railing. "He's an asshole. He just left, like it was no big deal. Like there weren't innocent people dying all over the place. Like it wasn't his job, his duty, to help me help them. I hate him, Charlie."

"No, Liv, you don't," he disagreed. "You just think that you should. But you really don't. And he's three times more than just an asshole. Cause he didn't just leave 'his duty' or his father. He left you. Any guy who would ever even think about doing that, is an idiot. I don't care that they say he was practically a genius." Liv chuckled, and this time it sounded better. She opened her mouth, but he placed a hand on her arm. "Don't waste your breath and try to tell me that little story about how you two were purely professional. Maybe you don't know it yet, but I know you liked him. A lot more than two colleagues. It was written all over your face when you saw him, and it still is now that you can't see him."

Shaking her head she closed her eyes. "Maybe I'm just stupid. I feel so stupid. He lied to me Charlie, and I believed him. It's part of my job to know when someone is lying to me, but I couldn't see past his stupid jokes and ridiculous smiles."

"You aren't stupid, Liv," he assured her. Olivia let herself lean closer to him and he placed a hand on her back. "He is." Olivia bit her lip, keeping the tears that threatened to spill. No, she couldn't cry now. Had to make Charlie believe she was okay. That she was strong. "Do you want me to drive you home? Or maybe you want to go to the bar? I could keep you company."

"No, I'm fine." Olivia took a step back, shaking her head. "I think I'm just going to go home and get some sleep. I'm exhausted." He nodded, and she tried her best to give him a smile. "See you later...and Charlie? Keep looking for him." Turning around she pulled her jacket closer and jogged out into the rain. In a matter of seconds she was covered in the water, the bottom of her pant legs and her shoes soaked. Finally running up to her car, she unlocked it, and got in as quickly as possible. Turning it on, she fumbled with the heater before turning it too on.

The drive home was slow and the windshield wipers did next to nothing to help her see out. What appropriate weather. On the two month anniversary of Peter's departed. Just when she thought her broken heart was almost healed, it gets ripped to pieces again. But she knew she couldn't stop, could never stop. But sometimes...giving up sounds so sweet. Not just because of Peter. But because of John too. Of the pressure always on her shoulders. Of the world that always needs saving, but never seems happy when she does everything in her power.

Getting back to her apartment, she changed into something more comfortable and dry. Crawling onto her bed and collapsing on top of the covers, she buried her face in the pillow. Maybe Peter was the straw that broke the camels back.

He had such gorgeous green eyes, always glinting against the light in the room. Maybe that's all it was. The light reflecting weird that made her think there was some kind of depth to his eyes. That behind them it was more than just a pain in the ass who had a more shadier past then a tree in the middle of august. That had to be it. And when he smiled at her from across the room, it was because he was too excited about his escape plan. The shivers that ran up her spine when he accidently brushed his hand on her arm was just because she was getting a cold.

Without picking her head up, she reached over and opened her bedside table drawer. After rummaging blindly, she grasped a piece of paper and pulled it out. Tucking her arm close to her, she turned her head to peek at the paper. It was a picture, just a small one. Peter was wearing a light button up shirt, turning to look at the camera with a blank expression, obviously caught off guard. When she returned from Germany from talking to Jones, she found the picture on the floor under the table where Joe had been. She didn't know why she tucked it into her pocket. Why she kept it.

Maybe what Charlie said was true. Maybe Peter did mean a lot more to her than just friends. If only he stayed a little longer so she could have found out in a different way.

He told her he would be there for her, if she needed him. Well, she needed him. So where the hell was he? That's right. He was God knows where, doing God knows what. Maybe he had a new girl by now, smiling his way into her heart. Using the same lame jokes he used on her. Or maybe he was dead by now. In some ditch motionless, because he pissed off one too many people. Too bad she didn't have the pleasure.

The possibilities were endless. But there was only one thing she knew. He was not here. Probably wouldn't be for a long time. Well, that's okay. She was fine before him, she'll be fine without him. Besides, she managed to convince Walter to stay, and they even got some dumbass guy to look after him. Of course, the only reason why Walter didn't go back to St. Clare's was because the old fool is convinced Peter is coming back.

Anger flooding over her, she pushed the photo off the bed and quickly rolled onto her back. Maybe she should take a vacation. Go visit her sister and niece for a little while. No... her sister finally got a new guy, Olivia doesn't want to jeopardize her chances. She could really use it after Greg. Maybe she should just pack her bags and take off in a random direction. England? No... Cancun? It's supposed to be nice this time of year. No, too many tourists. Maybe she should not leave at all. Instead just shut all the blinds and sleep for a week straight.

But that would only be running away from something she never had in the first place. Her hand reached down and grabbed the picture again, this time holding it at a distance.

The words escape her before she can even think about them. Her sister once told her that the words people say without a second thought are the ones that hold the most truth. If your mind doesn't have the time to dissect the sentences, to discard everything that they should say, and instead spit out what would be safest. Olivia was hardly experienced with this. She rarely said something without planning it perfectly first. That was half of the surprise when she whispered those five words. The second half was what they actually meant.

"I should of kissed you..."

Her eyebrows instantly knitted together, and she stared confused at his photograph. Carefully she searched over the words, looking for any sense of falseness. But it felt right on the tips of her lips, and she didn't have the gut twisting feeling she got when she lied.

"I should of kissed you," she repeated more firmly this time, as if testing the words out. The image in her mind accompanied by the words, of her and Peter kissing, made her chest tightened and she frowned. She suddenly felt intense longing for him. To be able to see him in person, to be able to smell his cologne again, and to feel his firm hands on her back as she tilted her head up so their lips could touch.

"Too late," She mumbled, closing her eyes and letting the room fall into her. One more night to feel sorry for herself, she promised. Just one more night to let go of what was supposed to be a friend. Tomorrow morning, this will all be gone. Everything she kept secret from herself about her feelings for him, her anger at his fleeing. It'll all be gone, if that means going insane.

So she curled into a ball, put her head in her hands, and flat out cried. She sobbed so loudly her throat hurt. Her cheeks burned from the grimace and her body shuddered. The tears endlessly rolled down her cheeks, into hands, onto the pillow. She thought she might drown in them. Somewhere along the crying, she exhausted herself, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

It was the piercing of her phone that woke her. If it hadn't gone off, she probably would have slept well into the afternoon. Picking her head up slowly, she rolled onto her back to blink up at the ceiling. There was something clutched in her hand, she noticed, as she raised them to rub her eyes. There was a dropping feeling in her gut when she held the picture in front of her. And then, remembering her promise to herself, she roughly grabbed a side and pulled the picture in half. And then into fourths, eighths, until finally all that was left were tiny bits of Peter. Pushing the remains off the bed, she reached over and grabbed the phone off the bedside table.

"Dunham," she answered in a refreshed tone.

"Hey, Liv," Charlie's voice said, delicately. "I know you have the day off today, but I...I think you should come in."

Letting out a sigh, she nodded her head. Of course. "Why?"

"I...We found him."

Aww, stupid Peter for leaving Liv. So, I'll probably write like, a sequel-like / companion fic to this. Yep. Did you like it?