Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe.
Author's Note: I wrote this after watching 'LSD'. It might not make a whole lot of sense in some areas, since I was pretty tired when I wrote it. Oh well. I'm just in shock from the last couple of minutes of the episode-I can't believe Olivia would act like she did, and I think something may be wrong. This fic is basically one explanation I had. Hope you enjoy.
Fear
"I haven't seen him before. But I think that he's the man who is going to kill me."
How she could be so nonchalant as she said that astounded him, because the words caused his stomach to clench and his heart to stop. No, instead, she stood there eating a goddam piece of toast, acting as if she'd told him she was about to go grocery shopping, rather than that crucial tidbit.
"Olivia, what are you talking about?" It was a struggle to get the words out past the lump in his throat, but he managed. She'd finished the piece of toast, and stood there with her arms crossed, staring at him.
"You heard me." She had a sort of smirk on her face, which was strangely reminiscent of the expressions of the Other Olivia. As he thought about it, he realized that, yes, she was a bit more upbeat, lighter than she had been in the past. He thought it was merely because she was optimistic about regaining control over her own body, and not being stuck in her subconscious. But this was strange. It was almost as if she'd changed into a completely different person; at least, she was not herself at the moment.
"'Livia, what are you talking about?" He moved forward, taking her hands in his, guiding her to the table. They both sat, and he lifted one hand to cup her cheek. Her eyes were vacant, unseeing. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs as he took in her appearance, and attempted to work through what was happening. "What do you mean, this man is going to kill you?" He took a hold of the notebook, and slid it toward her. "How could you know that?"
"I don't know." She looked up at him, and her mouth twisted into a frown, her lip trembling ever so slightly. "I don't know, but he was there, and he's going to kill me. I don't know how, or why I know, I just do." Her brow crinkled, and his stomach clenched as their eyes met. She looked so…unlike herself. She wasn't fearless—she was lost. "Peter, what's happening to me?"
He gathered her in his arms, pulling her close to him. His hand was flat against her back as she buried her head into his shoulder, her fists twisting into the back of his jacket. "Hey, 'Livia, you're here. You're safe."
"No, no, I'm not. I'm not safe." She murmured it like a mantra, whispering it into his ear. "I'm not safe."
Something was terribly wrong. The worst thing was that he had no idea what it was. Absolutely none. But this wasn't Olivia, and they both knew it. Whether she was still trapped within the confines of her own mind, or here, and she'd simply gone mad from Bell's invasion, well, that he wasn't sure of. What he did know was that he wasn't about to just sit here and see if she eventually returned to normal. This revelation became increasingly pertinent as he felt her go limp in his arms.
"Olivia?" His hand rubbed gentle, though firm, circles on her back, but she did not stir. "Olivia?" He drew her away from his body, and her head lolled to the side, her eyes shut. He felt for a pulse—it was there, and strong enough to quell his worry the slightest bit. He pulled her back toward his chest, and reached for the phone. For a moment, his fingers hovered over the keypad, unsure which number to dial: 9-1-1, or Walter? The former would be most likely be a quicker solution, though he knew if this was at all related to what Olivia had just been through with the LSD-induced dream, then Walter would be the only one that could help. He dialed the number and held the phone to his ear, muttering,
"Walter, pick up, come on…" The phone rang once, twice, three times, four times…and he was sure that Walter had forgotten how to answer the telephone, until he heard his voice on the other end of the line.
"Hello?"
"Walter, it's me, Peter. I need you to listen to me: something's wrong with Olivia."
"What do you mean, son? We just got her back, and—" He could hear the incredulity and concern in his tone, but he had no time to feel sympathetic. He cut him off.
"It must have something to do with what happening when we went into her consciousness." If Bell were still alive, Peter would have had no qualms about killing him, now. "She's breathing and she has a pulse, but she's unconscious. She was just talking to me, but…she wasn't herself, Walter. And then she just passed out." He paused for a moment to catch his breath, because it was getting a bit hard to breathe. "Listen, I'm going to give Astrid a call. She'll pick you up. We need to go to the lab and find out what's wrong, okay? I'm going to bring Olivia there now."
"Okay." He was glad that Walter seemed to understand just how dire the situation was, though before he had the chance to hang up, Walter's voice stopped him. "And, Peter, don't worry—we'll fix this. We'll get Olivia back."
If only it were that easy.
#
He had carried her to his car, ignoring the strange looks he got as he did so. He didn't care much for anything right now except Olivia. It was lucky that Astrid had answered her phone—she sounded exasperated at first, but once he told her what was going on, she agreed to rush straight to his house to pick up Walter. They arrived at the Kresge building almost simultaneously.
"What did she say to you?" It was the first thing Walter asked, once they had placed Olivia on an examination table, and hooked her up to the various machines that were littered around the area.
"Why is that important?" Peter stood over her, his hand wrapped around one of hers. She looked so peaceful now, and he wished she were merely sleeping. "She was obviously not right in the head. I mean, she wasn't acting like herself—what if Bell did something to her while he was alone in her mind?"
"Peter." Walter was surprisingly lucid—Peter's mind still felt muddled by the after-effects of the LSD and the shock of what was happening. "Tell me what she said."
He sucked in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. "Do you remember the man in the zeppelin? The one with the gun?" Walter nodded. "Olivia said that that man is going to kill her. She didn't know how, or why, or who he is. But she kept saying that she wasn't safe." Walter frowned, and Peter asked, "What?"
"You know, son, that, often, there are unforeseen complications. I think this is one." Walter braced his arms on the table, dropping his chin to his chest. He seemed almost ashamed. "Belly may have done more damage that we initially thought. I suspect that this man who she says is going to kill her is merely a concoction of her mind. I think that, perhaps, when we brought her back, and Belly left her consciousness, she didn't fully return. Part of her consciousness may still be trapped in the recesses of her mind, which is why this has happened."
"So," said Astrid, from her spot at the monitors, where she was taking note of Olivia's vitals, "the trauma of Bell's actions is what caused this?"
Walter nodded. "Yes. It must not be as simple to get her back as we originally thought. This man she spoke of is really just a tangible recreation of her fears and emotional turmoil."
Grudgingly, Peter let go of Olivia's hand to move closer to Walter. He stood in front of him, his arms crossed, his eyes hard. He should've never let it get this far—Bell must've known what he was doing to Olivia, and he selfishly allowed it to go on. Peter should've never allowed it, and now, he was losing Olivia because of it. "She's still stuck in there, then. In her head—her subconscious."
"Yes." Walter's face was contorted into a mask of anguish, because he, too, knew that this was all a result of Bell's escapades with his Soul Magnets.
"I need to go back in."
"No!" He was fervent, resolute. "You can't, Peter, it's too dangerous! Especially so soon after the first time—"
"Walter, what do you expect me to do otherwise?" His voice had risen a few decibels, and Astrid watched warily as the altercation took place. "I can't just sit here! Olivia's not going to come back to us unless we do something about it."
"It's too much of a risk—"
"I don't care." He turned to look back at Olivia. His voice was softer, now, as he spoke again. "She would do it for me. Right?" He glanced at both Walter and Astrid. "She traveled to The Other Side for me. I'm going to do this for her."
#
It was another half-hour until Walter managed to get together the necessary supplies to send Peter back into Olivia's mind. Peter was reclining in the seat, hooked up to the machines as well, already set on his second dose of LSD that day. Walter leaned over him before administering the sedative. He was completely serious; his expression sober.
"Peter, you can't stay in there for too long. If you do, then you both will be lost. Do you understand?" His brows knit together, as he waited for a reaction.
Peter nodded. "I understand. Don't worry, Walter."
"Please, son. Stay safe." Peter reached out, grasping his father's shoulder.
"I will."
With a small, sad smile, Walter finished readying Peter for the procedure. Peter's vision began to fade, and soon, he was immersed in darkness.
When Peter came to, he was again standing in the middle of that strange mixture of their universe and Over There. Cars rushed past him; he was in the middle of the street. It seemed Olivia had strengthened her defenses since the last time he'd been there, for a truck was headed straight for him. It would be terrible for him to risk all of this again, only to be awoken by impact with a truck. He dove out of the way, the wheel of the vehicle narrowly missing clipping his leg. He was relieved, though, that as he stood on the sidewalk, the pedestrians merely strode past him, rather than attempting to tear him apart, as he feared they would. He wondered whether her subconscious recognized him as the invader—thereby, causing Olivia to attempt to stop any harm from coming to him—or if he'd have to hurry and find out where she was, before another zombie attack came his way.
His eyes scanned the surrounding area. There was nothing familiar. He was even eager to perhaps catch a glimpse of Olivia's stepfather, or "the man who was going to kill her", if only for the hope that they would lead him to her. But no, there was nothing. No one. He began to walk, headed again for the tower they'd found William Bell in. That was where they had made progress the last time, and so, he thought it to be the best place to start.
The towers never came any closer. He walked and walked, even began to run, but it seemed as if everything were merely staying in place. When he was out of breath, clutching at his chest from the exertion, he finally, reluctantly, slowed. This wasn't working. Wherever Olivia was, he knew that it wasn't going to be easy to reach her, and with each passing second, this became al l the more apparent. He straightened up once he caught his breath, and took another look around. Though they'd been attacked the first time they'd traveled into Olivia's mind, it seemed that now, these projections of her mind were being kept at bay. Perhaps it was her trying to help him. If she did know he was here, then at least there was some expectation that he'd be able to find her—if she wanted him to. But this stand-still was not helping his efforts in the least.
Well, it seemed as if he'd gotten his hopes up too soon. As he again began to walk forward, the pedestrians surrounding him turned, and began to move toward him. Their faces were emotionless; soldiers employed only to protect Olivia's mind, and nothing more. He began to run, though this time headed not for the building, but for an alleyway. As an afterthought, he supposed it was a dumb move, to trap himself in such small confines, but it seemed to be his only way out at the time. The alleyway led to a seemingly dead end, but as he approached it, the bricks that made up the building in front of him seemed to just fall away.
Her mind was a divided front; one part was trying to kill him, the other, to help him. He could see now that her emotions were too conflicted for it to have been so easy for them to withdraw her from the depths of her mind the first time. Bell had done more damage than Peter could've imagined; he had caused Olivia to sink so far into her subconscious that she was nearly stuck there.
The alleyway grew longer as he feet carried him forward, leading to a second street. But, her own militia was gaining on him, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to keep this up for much longer. Though his body still sat in Walter's lab, he still was able to feel exhaustion, and pain. The soreness in his chest was a perpetual reminder of that, though he was sure there was no physical cause for it.
An SUV was fast approaching, speeding toward him as he raced down the sidewalk. It began to slide to a stop as it neared, and when it was just feet from him, it came to a complete halt, and the passenger side door was thrown open. A man's voice came from the driver's seat,
"Get in."
Peter stopped, crouched into a defensive stance until his eyes focused on the figure within the vehicle. "Charlie?"
Charlie Francis, back from the dead, smirked at Peter. "Yeah, it's me. Now get in, unless you want those guys to tear you apart."
Optimistic that Charlie would be the first one he'd encountered to actually help him, Peter hopped into the seat without a second thought. Moments later, they were speeding down the road, far from the crowd that had been chasing Peter. This was surreal—of course, merely being here was by itself surreal, but seeing Charlie here, in front of him, scar-less and seemingly healthy, was fantastic. Who better for Olivia to send as a guide than the man who she'd been so close to?
Peter felt the weight in his chest lessen just the slightest bit. "Do you know where Olivia is?"
Charlie shrugged, his eyes still focused on the never-ending stretch of road in front of them. "Nope."
No, of course Charlie knew. Charlie was Olivia—or, rather, another concoction of Olivia's mind, sent from the part that was trying to help Peter find her. But, it seemed she wasn't going to make this easy for him. If anyone knew Olivia nearly as well as Peter, though, it was Charlie.
"Well then, now what?"
"Olivia wants us to find her. That I know, at least," said Charlie. Well, either Olivia was able to read his thoughts in here, or he was right on track. "Where did you find her last time?"
"You know where—" He cut himself off with a heavy sigh. "Jacksonville, at her old house." He crossed his arms, settling further back into the seat. "This is crazy. Why is she hiding from us, of all people?"
"This is her mind," the illusion of Charlie reminded him, "she wants us to find her, but if she just comes out of hiding, then her own mind is going to attack her. Her stepfather, and that other man are both running loose. She can't risk them catching her. But," he said, with a smug grin, "we have something they don't have."
"Yeah?" huffed Peter, "What's that?"
"Knowledge. We know Olivia; where she likes to go, where she feels safe, and who she trusts. They don't."
Peter's mood, though, had not brightened in the least, despite Charlie's confidence. "Well, I know she's not in Jacksonville—at least, not at her old house. That was where she was last time, and she wouldn't go back there."
"Well, it's a start." Charlie pointed to something in the distance. As Peter squinted, he could make out that it was a sign, but they were too far for him to be able to read what it said. "What's that say?"
"I don't know. We're too far. Can you think of anywhere else she might be, somewhere she might've told you about?"
Before Charlie answered, though, Peter looked up to see that he could now make out the words on the sign. 'Turnpike Motel' it said. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Charlie smiled.
"That's where she used to meet Agent Scott. Makes sense, you know? She used to feel safe with John, too." The real Charlie wouldn't have known something like that—then again, this wasn't the real Charlie, but it was certainly a useful tidbit of information he'd given Peter.
"Then let's go there."
"We're here."
"What—?" The road had suddenly forked, and Charlie maneuvered the car, steering them toward the left, and then into the parking lot of a dingy-looking building. A flickering neon sign, again reiterating that this was, in fact, the 'Turnpike Motel', swayed haphazardly on its post. Peter opened the car door after Charlie had slowed to a stop in front of the building, but glanced back at him before he exited the vehicle.
"You coming?"
Charlie shook his head. "No. This is something you gotta do on your own."
Peter clambered out of the seat, gravel crunching beneath his boots. "Well, it was good seeing you again."
"Yeah." Charlie grinned, and Peter watched for a moment as the SUV pulled away, heading back down the road that led to nowhere. He then turned back to the motel. It was as if he were in a dream, because although he knew this was a motel, the building only had one door. A bit of light streamed out from the crack beneath the door. It had suddenly become nighttime, and the light was the only source of illumination. He sucked in a deep breath as he approached the door, his arm poised to knock. He had no idea what he was going to find—if John would be in there; if Olivia was even here. It seemed too easy, that this had just appeared for them to find.
He knocked anyway, because it seemed like the only option, and he didn't want to continue standing out there to wait to be bombarded again. There was no answer. He knocked again. Still, nothing. So, he drew back his leg, and then let loose a kick to the center of the door. It clattered to the ground, the noise like gunshots in the still air. The room was dull, the light coming from the lamp not doing much. What he could see, though, was Olivia seated on the edge of a bed in the center of the room, facing away from him. They were alone; John was nowhere in sight.
"I did feel safe with him." He heard her voice, barely more than a whisper. "But that's changed. Now, I don't feel safe with anyone."
Peter moved around the bed, and knelt in front of her, reaching forward to cup her face. "Hey, Olivia, I'm here." His eyes settled on hers. It was her, for sure, but she was still not all there. No, her eyes were focused on something in the distance, something that only she could see. All he saw was a wall. "Come on, 'Livia. I'm right here. You can come back."
"I can't. I can't." She was frenzied and stubborn. "He's going to kill me. I can't leave. I'm not safe anywhere except here."
"You're safe with me." Concern colored his face, and his eyebrows wrinkled, creating deep gouges in his forehead, as his fingers stroked her jaw line. "Olivia, this isn't like you." Peter moved to sit beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her toward him, but she stayed stiff as a board, unwavering from her present condition. "Where's the Olivia Dunham I know? The one who can deal with anything that comes her way?" He knew that when Bell had trapped her here, forcing her to deal with her innermost emotions, it had shaken something loose. Her fears and reservations were ganging up on her, and this man, whom he was glad he hadn't seen as of yet, had to be defeated—to be tangible proof that she could deal with these fears, that she could come through this intact. "Listen, I know this is hard, but I'm here, and you're going to get through this."
She was trembling in his arms, her eyes squeezed shut, and he began to doubt himself. Was this truly Olivia, or another projection of herself that she'd created to fool him, or whoever else had come to find her? He'd been wrong before; who was he to know for sure whether this was truly her or not?
"How can I deal with the outside world," she said in a whisper, "if I can't even deal with myself?" She looked at him, and her eyes were focused. She saw him now. This was her. A broken, shell of her former self, yes, but it was definitely Olivia. "What is going on, Peter? Why is this happening?" Yes, her confusion must be a part of it, he reasoned. After all, the last time he'd truly been together with her, before Belly had infiltrated her mind and body, he'd been about to tell her about his ordeal with the Shapeshifters. How could she have known why she was suddenly forced into the recesses of her mind, while she lost control of her body?
"William Bell, do you remember anything with him?"
She sounded uncertain. "I remember he was here, before I came back…But I wasn't all back. Something's still wrong with me."
"Nothing's wrong with you, 'Livia." He hated what he had to do, but brutal honesty was the only thing that was going to help her. She needed to understand what was happening to allow him to help her gain freedom from herself. "The only thing that's wrong is that you're hiding."
"I'm hiding because I can't let him find me. I told you, he's going to kill me."
Both of Peter's hands were cupping her face, now, gently forcing her to look at him. "He? Who is he anyway, Olivia? He's no one. He can't hurt you, because he is you."
Olivia's expression turned hard. He feared he was only making it worse. "What are you talking about?"
"That man you're saying is going to kill you is not real. Well, he's real here, inside your mind. But, outside, where Walter and Astrid and Broyles are, and Rachel and Ella, and everyone else that cares about you, he's not there. Outside, he's your emotions—the emotions you deal with everyday, that you've been able to handle. He's what you've been dealing with your whole life, except when you were trapped in here, he took on a concrete form. You're your own worst enemy, 'Livia, but you can stop him. You can stop all of this."
She stood, tearing herself from his arms, then turning, almost unnaturally fast, to face him. Her arms were crossed. "How?" Her jaw was set, her eyes narrowed. "Because, right now, it feels like it's easier just to stay here. Out there, there are Shapeshifters, and the Machine, and Her. I may not be safe here, but it's better than being there."
"Olivia, how could you say that?" Peter, too, stood, though he kept his hands to himself, sensing that it would be best to leave her be as they spoke. She obviously needed the distance as she sorted this all out. "You went to the Other Side to get me. I didn't come back for Her, or for Walter, or anyone else. I came back for you. And now, I'm here for you, too. Hell, 'Livia, we're both doped up on LSD, and I'm risking my life to bring you back." There was no reasoning with her. She was still too focused on herself, still trapped in her own thoughts.
Olivia did not speak. Instead, she exited the room, heading back to the outside. Her hair, knotted into a neat braid, swung angrily behind her as she strode across the empty parking lot. Peter had to jog to catch up to her.
"Olivia, what are you doing?"
"I can't stand anymore of this." As she walked, the scenery around them changed. The gravel beneath their feet morphed into a dirt path, and trees sprouted beside them, shrouding them in green-tinted shadows. "If this man, who I'm sure is still trying to kill me, isn't real, then what do you expect me to do? Will him away?"
"Well, yes." Peter sounded sheepish, but truly, that was what he believed she needed to do all along. There was no physical confrontation necessary to get through this; she merely needed to come to the realization that she could end this whenever she wanted to. It had not yet happened. "Where are we going?"
"I don't know."
"Olivia, wait." She ignored him. "Olivia, please! Hold up, just for one second." He rushed forward, efficiently stopping her in her tracks. He gripped her shoulders. "Have you ever felt safe? Is this why this is happening, because you truly never have?"
There it was; the crack he needed. Her wall was beginning to come down, and he knew that as soon as he was able to slither through that crack to knock some sense into her, she'd be able to break out of herself. "I have. I've felt safe. It hasn't always been this way." His eyes never left her face as she spoke. "But it's so hard, now. After being Over There, and then finding out that you were with her…Not even in my own home do I feel comfortable. And then, there's the Machine, and the end of the world. How could I ever feel safe again, Peter? How?"
"If you could only feel safe in one place, that place should be your mind. But you're not. You don't feel safe here. So, tell me. Tell me where you've felt safe, and we can go there."
"The only time I've felt safe since I got back," she said, and he watched as her eyes welled with tears, though he could not tell whether they were a result of sadness, or something else, "is with you."
He could take whisky on his lips, and a stream of light fell across them. At the end of the path was the house he shared with Walter, and she took his hand, her thin fingers wrapping around his, and began to lead him toward it.
"We could just stay there, Peter."
But as she opened the door, Peter's heart sank. At first, he'd been afraid that Olivia's childhood fears, stemming from the abuse at the hands of her stepfather, had been the initial cause of all of this. But, now he knew that it was only a single factor in her screwed-up life. And this nameless man, who now stood in front of them, was the culmination of these factors. The man did not move, though; he simply stood and watched. Peter leaned in close to Olivia, whispering into her ear, so that only she could hear.
"He can't hurt you, Olivia. You need to know that." She said nothing, and so he continued, "Do you remember how you got out of here last time? Bell talked to you, didn't he? Bell caused this, but he was only a catalyst. Your emotions were bound to catch up with you sooner or later. But you need to fight it. I know you can do it, Olivia. Fight back."
"That's what Bell said." She, too, was quiet. "I am my own worst enemy. I let my fears overwhelm me. That's why I can't let go; because you can't just escape from your fears."
"You are so strong, Olivia." The man now rushed forward, an inhuman yell echoing through the hall. They stood their ground; Peter continued to talk. "You're stronger than anyone I've ever met. You can deal with this, and you don't have to do it alone. Do you remember what you said to me?" The hall was getting longer as he spoke, and the man, just as Peter had done earlier, seemed to be running in place, not managing to get any closer to them. She was no longer fighting against those who wanted to help her; she was fighting against those who wanted to hurt—namely, the negativity that permeated her consciousness. "You said you weren't afraid to move forward anymore. So, let's do it. Move forward, and we can deal with your fears. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together, whether it's the end of the world, fighting the Shapeshifters, or dealing with Walter." He chuckled, and his heart soared as he heard her laugh alongside him, albeit softly, nearly inaudibly.
"I don't have to escape my fears," she said, slowly, deliberately. "I just need to deal with them."
"Right," Peter said. "Just as you've been doing all these years."
They were again alone, standing in his foyer. The man was gone. It seemed as if they were truly there; everything now looked normal. He turned to face her, his hand going to her cheek. "Do you understand, Olivia? You have the power to either lose yourself, or bring yourself back."
She nodded firmly. "I won't hide anymore. I don't want to."
He grinned. "Good."
Their lips met, and it felt as if his body were being licked by flames. Warmth radiated outward from his chest, and he could feel her press up against him. The entire atmosphere had changed; previously, the only thing to saturate the air had been gloom. Now, he could feel happiness, and though it was tinged with a sort of sadness as well, there was no longer a sense of a loss of self. Olivia was back.
He felt wetness on his face, though he was unable to discern whether the tears were hers or his own. As they drew apart for breath, he smiled down at her, at her expression. Her eyes were no longer vacant and withdrawn; the fire was back.
"Hey, Olivia?" he said.
"Hm?" Her forehead was against his chest, and he brought his hand up behind her head, wanting to be as close to her as possible.
"I love you." It was the first time he'd ever uttered those words to her, though now it certainly seemed warranted. It also seemed to be enough for that final push to bring her wholly back to herself.
He felt a tug deep in the pit of his stomach, and everything went dark.
#
Peter awoke gasping for breath, and Walter was already hovering over him, grasping his arms as he stirred, to stop him from hurting himself.
"Olivia!" His voice was hoarse, frantic. "Is she awake?"
"Not yet," soothed Walter, though he could hear the tone of concern as well. "But you need to sit still, Peter, please."
He ignored Walter, tearing at the wires attached to his head as he stood, a bit wobbly on his feet. His head felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton, but he ignored the uncomfortable sensations as he knelt beside Olivia. She was still out, looking as peaceful as if she were only asleep. Astrid watched with worry from the background.
"Olivia, come on." He threaded his fingers through hers. "Wake up." As she began to come to, her eyelids fluttering, he let out a gasp of relief, though he knew that they weren't out of hot water just yet. "'Livia, can you hear me?"
Though her eyes were still half-shut, her lips tilted upward into a smile, and she turned her head toward the sound of his voice. "Peter?"
He squeezed her hand. "I'm right here."
He watched as she struggled to open her eyes fully, still fighting the effects of the drugs. "I love you, too."
Walter and Astrid shared a glance behind their backs. After a few moments of silence, as they all took in what had just happened, Walter said quietly,
"Did it work?"
Peter craned his neck to look at his father. A larger smile had never graced his features. "Yes, Walter. It worked."
#
Bed rest was what Walter had recommended for the both of them after an ordeal like that; traipsing through consciousness was somewhat of a strenuous activity, and they'd done it twice in one day. Though, Peter did think that, perhaps, Walter had also suggested it simply because he knew they needed to spend time together, and what better way than to spend it in bed? Though they knew they would have to deal with Walter checking in on them every so often, they decided to recuperate at the Bishop's. When they at last arrived home, it was the wee hours of the morning, and they changed and got into bed. Walter, on the other hand, busied himself in the kitchen, but they did not concern themselves with him.
Peter could not sleep. However tired he was from the mental exertion of the day, he could not bring himself to close his eyes. He feared, irrationally, that if he closed his eyes, Olivia would be gone when he awoke. How strange it was that he had helped her through her own fears, and yet could not even get past his own. He did eventually drift off, until he was roused by the soft padding of footsteps in the hall.
"Peter? Olivia? Are you both decent?"
Peter heard Olivia chuckle beside him, and he opened his eyes to see her smiling. "I don't think I have enough energy tone anything but," she murmured, and Peter grinned, moving forward to press his lips against hers for a fleeting moment, before he called out,
"Yes, Walter, you can come in." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "As long as you're decent."The door opened, and Walter sidled inside, wringing his hands.
"Are you two feeling alright?" His eyes darted to-and-fro, though his worry seemed to fade a bit as Peter nodded.
"We're fine, Walter."
"Well, do tell me if anything changes. I am still unsure of the toll the drugs and ventures may have taken on your bodies and minds, after such a dosage in a short amount of time." In this incredibly domestic environment, it felt almost like they were their own dysfunctional family—well, they were, but now, it was truly domesticated, and Peter felt more at peace than he had in a while. Olivia was back, and for these few moments, he could pretend that the end of the world was not close, and that he was not the one who would be the means for the day to come.
Walter's voice jerked him from his thoughts, as did Olivia's hand, curling around his own beneath the sheets. "Would you two like some breakfast?"
Peter glanced toward Olivia; her lips twitched into a small smile. "That'd be great, Walter."
He clapped his hands together, the concern having all but disappeared from his face, overtaken by glee. "Wonderful. I'll go get started." Without another word, he had gone back through the door, and closed it behind him, leaving them alone once again. Peter turned to Olivia, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other bracing himself against the mattress so that he did not crush her.
Warmth radiated from the both of them as their lips touched, and he trailed kisses down her cheeks, her jaw, ending at her ear. He could feel her hands on his back, threading up through his hair, almost begging for more. But he had too much on his mind to just lay there, as much as he knew they both wanted to. She was safe, and seemingly happy, but events that had transpired before Bell had come back had him doubting himself, and doubting her apparent happiness.
"'Livia," he murmured, "I'm sorry." He wasn't about to beat around the bush; he knew she wouldn't appreciate that, anyway.
He could feel her shift as confusion settled in, pushing him back slightly so that she could see his face. "Why?"
He moved back, sitting up so that they could look directly at each other. He took in a deep breath, pushing one hand through his hair as he readied himself to speak. "The Shapeshifters…I shouldn't have lied."
She cocked her head, though to his surprise and pleasure, she smiled, and her eyes were not angry, but understanding. "I had a lot of time to think about everything that's happened when Bell possessed me. You're right, you shouldn't have lied, because I would've done anything I could to help you. But it's over now, and I'm not angry. I've lied to you, you've lied to me, but we're together now, and we can get through it. I'm not going to hold it against you, because it's the past now, and we need to move forward."
He supposed he shouldn't be shocked, because everything she said was true, and he respected that. But, he'd seen the look on her face as he'd told her, and he'd expected something more. "You're sure…?" He began, but she quickly nodded, cutting him off.
"Let's just move on, alright?" Her smile grew wide; this great change in her facial expressions since they'd gotten together was still freaking him out, in a good way.
"Okay," he said, and allowed her to wrap her arms around his shoulders, pulling him forward. They both slipped back beneath the covers, entwined within each other. The room may have taken on a sort of golden hue, though it may just have been the sun. Her hands moved across his back, and one of his slipped beneath her shirt; the shirt he'd given her to borrow, that he loved to see her in. If he had to choose one moment to live forever, it would be this one, because the only times he felt true bliss were when he was with her.
Things would have gone farther if Walter hadn't again interrupted them. He knocked on the door, calling to them, "Breakfast is ready whenever you are!" Peter let out a groan, then shouted back,
"Give us a second, will you?"
They heard Walter's footsteps as he scurried back to the kitchen, and Olivia buried her face in Peter's shoulder, laughing softly.
"We don't have to go out there now," he said. "I'm sure Walter will wait."
To his slight dismay, Olivia shook her head, a coy grin on her face. "No, we need to eat, and I'm hungry. But," she said, cocking a brow, "I could use a bath after this, you know. I think I need to freshen up."
His expression brightened to match hers, and disentangled himself from the bed sheets and stood, offering a hand to her. "Sounds like a perfect plan."