OLIVIA entered the poorly lit room; she followed Peter's broad, tense shoulders as he moved the improvised curtain door to the left; letting her eyes slowly adjust to her new surroundings.
The place they had just stepped into was a crisscross between a bar, a restaurant and a club; if Olivia hadn't seen it, she wouldn't have believed such a tripartite locale even existed. The unique bouquet of smells and sounds hit her right in the face like a giant unexpected fist coming out of nowhere.
Odour of unwashed human bodies coexisted along with the fragrance of what it seemed to be thousands of spices unknown to Olivia's nostrils.
Shouts and whispers alike reached her cochlear nerve.
Pleads and swearwords in languages from all over the world were being stirred in a witch's cauldron of the bar's four walls; giving away nothing but an unpleasant and hard-to-bear cacophony.
That wasn't all, Olivia thought. She felt as if they had stepped into the lion's den. Such thought reminded her of Walter. He would have said it in that silly song he always used to sing to encourage himself to engage in an arduous task. But in every fiction there lay a grain of truth.
Now they faced with hundreds of inquisitive daggers that were simultaneously thrown from the guests' eyes.
Olivia felt Peter squirm a little under their scrutiny as he advanced cautiously forward, step by step, trying to take in each and every one of the facial expressions in front of them. She was still incredibly weirded out at the memory of him pleasuring himself but she pushed those thoughts deep inside where they belonged.
Olivia knew she needed to be one hundred percent focused when it came to this case.
She was at an unknown location, at a strange terrain.
And if Peter couldn't handle the situation…She had to react fast. There was simply no time to think about anything else.
She saw Peter zoom in on a red faced, dark haired man who was casually talking to his interlocutor at the table. When the man turned around, as if sensing he was being watched, Olivia could see an ugly red gash extending from his right brow all the way to the left corner of his thin mouth and she briefly closed her eyes.
"That's Ahmed", came faint mutter from Peter's direction. "Aand… We need him if we want to find your precious doctors."
"Did you do that to him?", it was now Olivia's turn to whisper into Peter's ear, sensing him shudder briefly from her breath and hastily stepping away.
"Technically…I did", Peter admitted, looking extremely uncomfortable.
"What happened?"
"A heist went wrong. I chickened out and… Left him there. Later I heard he made it out but with a… Gift to make him remember that day and my betrayal as well", Peter clarified, frowning, his cheeks slightly red.
"He doesn't seem too happy to see you", Olivia stated.
"Can you blame him? But… Nevermind that. He also doesn't look very surprised", Peter added, and the tone of his voice suggested to Olivia that he wasn't really thrilled about the fact the man had presumed he was alive.
Ahmed now walked up to them and everyone else in the bar froze, staring at the trio. That reminded Olivia at one of those slow motion western movie scenes, in which all the saloon guests are waiting for the shootout. She certainly hoped nothing similar would come to pass, yet she found herself squeezing her gun a bit harder under the robes she was wearing.
It didn't take Ahmed long to open up a conversation, and, as far as Olivia was concerned, he was quite a direct man.
"There were rumours you had been killed. But I knew they couldn't be true", he spoke in a good English, still, with a heavy Iraqi accent. He sounded disappointed, if anything. "A person like you is good at one thing, more than anything else. Looking out for yourself", he made a point of touching his scar and glared at Peter's eyes.
Olivia half-expected Peter to insert some snarky, quip remark and put Ahmed down in a way that only he could have done it. She was definitely in for a surprise when she noticed Peter's honest, repentant gaze and the pleading voice he used in a reply.
"Ahmed", Peter replied calmly. "I am very sorry for what I did to you. Do you think that…Just this once…We could let bygones be bygones? I wouldn't have come to you if the matter hadn't been very important".
If Ahmed had heard him, he didn't show it. He was more interested in Olivia, standing next to Peter and he sized up the unusual duo several times before answering.
His answer was actually a question yet it was directed at Olivia.
"How is it that a woman like you got stuck with this guy?"
Olivia almost laughed out loud because that wasn't far from what she would occasionally ask herself every now and then. She opted for a calm approach.
"It's my job", she explained, allowing herself a small smile, hearing Peter chuckle at her attempt of joke. "And…", Olivia added, hoping her little back up speech will help clear Peter of at least some of the charges in the eyes of this man, "he isn't the same man that you knew before. He has changed."
She could see Peter's shoulders tense, yet when he turned around to face her, he nodded in a sign of gratitude.
"I highly doubt that", Ahmed retorted. "Why is it that you are here? You need something, as always? Asking for favours?"
"Yes I am. I need your help, Ahmed. There is a… U.S. Military program called Tin Man, which was operating out of a hospital in Samarra. I need to find at least one of the Iraqi doctors who were working on that program. I have the list right here. I can pay you, of course."
"You dare ask for favour from me? After everything you have done to me? Maybe someone else will want your dirty money. I for one, don't. You can't bribe me, Bishop. Some things can't be easily forgotten", Olivia could clearly see that the man was embittered.
"Ahmed…", Peter tried one more time. "The favour I am asking", he licked his lips, looking left and right uncomfortably. "It's not for me. It's for others. A lot of innocent lives may be on the line if we don't get a certain type of information from those doctors. And with your help, I may be able to save them."
"I am sorry if I am having trouble believing you", Ahmed turned around and Peter's pupils flashed in regret. "I don't think you are a different person at all, Bishop, and that you now care about wellbeing of others and saving their lives. You tricked me once and I trusted you. I will never trust or help you again. Don't worry though, I won't tell anyone you're here", he added. Seconds later he was out of sight.
Olivia glanced at Peter, finding that he was already at the bar, muttering obscene swearwords into his chin.
He seemed to have already asked for a double or triple shot of something. What it was, Olivia couldn't tell.
He slammed his fist on the hard wood couple of times and almost emptied his glass. It wasn't until Olivia came closer to him and placed her trembling palm over his that Peter finally managed to calm down.
This altered, angry, violent man was nothing like Peter she knew. Always tender, caring and full of support, he seemed to have eyes only for her. It was Olivia's turn to ask herself for the umpteenth time how well did she really know Peter Bishop.
She recalled their witty conversation they had in the newly reopened lab, the one during which she expressed surprise at his knowledge, and Peter simply teased her: "I picked that up reading books. It's fun, you should try it sometimes."
Olivia now found this man to be more complex than any book she had ever read. Layer upon layer upon layer of his thoughts, words and actions, every one slightly different than the previous one, each page making you turn the next one, delving deeper and yet not understanding it all quite well.
He was too compelling for his own good, Olivia concluded. Made her want ask questions about him, who he was, what he had done and where had he been. Questions he probably wouldn't have answered anyway. Still, it was hers to try.
"Are you gonna tell me what was all that about?", her question flew out of her mouth before Olivia could contain it.
"No", he replied dryly, with a mixture of sadness, repentance, and distraction. It was as if she weren't even there while Peter reminisced some distant wrong he couldn't possibly make right again.
Alluring oriental music was suddenly heard as the lights were dimmed.
When Olivia shielded her eyes to look towards an improvised stage, the only thing she could say was:
"Well, I surely hope you can tell me what this is all about, then," with an interested smirk on her face.
"I don't even have to turn around to answer that question, Agent Dunham", Peter's voice became a shade more playful and she smiled, glad that she managed to snap him out of the anger stupor. "You are about to witness the exotic Arabian belly dancing, if I am not mistaken".
Dark haired, almond eyed and caramel skinned girl stepped into the circle as couple of tables were hastily removed and the crowd roared with approval.
She had a white tire type headband holding up her face veil, a sequined bra with a waterfall of beads over the top of her flat, bare midriff, a beaded belt low on her hips and a several layered white skirt slit up the slide in several places.
She seemed to do a few warm up steps, thrusting her hips and she looked as if she was feeling quite good about herself.
Olivia blushed a bit at that attire but she had to acknowledge inwardly that the girl looked stunning. She wasn't a bad dancer either but she never did try herself in belly dancing waters.
Her eyes drifted away towards Peter. He gave the dancer an overall up and down appraising look as men usually do and then he smirked for a reason unknown to Olivia, turning around and getting back to his drink.
The tempo of the music was constantly changing and the girl danced quite slowly around the room. The audience seemed to watch her every move and she was in a complete control of the entire bar. Olivia wondered what it would be like to feel such a surge of power as the girls dancing became even more sensuous, drawing enthusiastic cheers.
Peter still wasn't looking at her and it was what surprised Olivia the most.
She imagined he was too absorbed in what had just transpired with Ahmed, in the fact that their mission was a failure and that all those people they left back in Boston were going to die.
Girl disappeared from the stage for the moment and Olivia supposed she was going to change and rest. Belly dancing was, after all, a serious cardiovascular exercise and she had put on one of the best performances Olivia had ever seen.
When the dancer reappeared wearing her second outfit, this time it was a read headband holding up her red face vail, a red sequined bra with a front opening clasp, a wide beaded belt, red panties with side snaps and semi-transparent harem pants.
Olivia noticed her sensual movements led her directly to the bar where Peter and she were seated. She stopped in front of him and put on a fast show of hip swings and thrusts, as if craving for his attention.
Peter regarded her and smiled, then looked away again to focus on Olivia's reddened cheeks. The dance the girl was performing was so primal, as some kind of a mating call and it was making Olivia uncomfortable and strangely aroused, as her cheeks flushed with an embarrassment of an unknown origin.
The girl pulled out the hip scarves and twirled them around, dragging them slowly over Peter's lap and he finally gave her his attention, smiling broadly and staring straight into girl's eyes behind the veil.
Weirdly enough, Peter didn't seem all that interested in the dance; it was the girl he was looking at and Olivia briefly wondered whether they knew each other from somewhere.
Other bar patrons were hooting and hollering with approval as the girl faux-straddled him and Peter laughed out loud heartily.
For him, it all seemed to be just a show, yet Olivia felt a slight pang of unease at seeing him like that with the dancer. He appeared relaxed, as if he were having a lot of fun. With Olivia, he was always caring, worried, preoccupied, and carrying both his troubles and her own. Here and now, he seemed to unwind.
The girl then abandoned Peter's proximity and circled around the room, letting each guy soak in her long legs and flat midriff while she went on dancing sensuously.
Yet no matter where she went, she would always return to Peter, and now she did her stomach undulations in front of him, letting her muscles ripple up and down while she swayed and thrust her hips.
Then, leaning forward, she shook her breasts close to him, letting him take a long look down her cleavage, which was, as Olivia noted with relief, an offer he take her upon.
Instead, he glanced at Olivia's flushed expression and winked, leaning to whisper in her ear, sending goose bumps all over her body: "I seem to have caught the girl's attention, Agent Dunham. This shouldn't come across as surprising. After all, I've been known to leave an impression."
"Yeah, I would say so", she replied a bit breathlessly, hastily pulling away from his hot breath, feeling her arousal from the hotel room return, as if it were never gone. "Seems like you've made a name for yourself."
"Are you blushing, Olivia?" Peter now positively teased her good-naturedly, and she giggled like a little girl.
"I guess I am.", she responded playfully. "And I see you are nonchalant to all this."
"I have seen my fair share of belly dancing shows and sure, I will sneak a peek every now and then, but they have long stopped being arousing for me."
"Oh?" Olivia lifted one eyebrow quizzically.
"What can I say, a man gets used to everything after some time." he replied jokingly.
Carried away with their banter, neither of them actually realized the music had stopped and the guests went back to their conversations.
The almond eyed girl now removed her veil and deliberately sat next to Peter. That didn't seem to surprise him at the slightest.
"Hi, Safia", he gave her one of his trademark grins accompanied with a wink. "I take it the show was just for me. Ahmed told you I was here?"
Olivia was pleased to see that her hunch was right: Peter did know this girl from before. Just how well he knew her exactly, she wondered. Then she got angry with herself inwardly.
Why do you care, Olivia allowed a small dialogue to occur in her mind while Peter and "Safia" were chatting right next to her. She almost managed to convince herself that she didn't care indeed, when Peter introduced her to the girl.
"Safia, this is my partner, Agent Olivia Dunham. Olivia, this is my…friend Safia," Peter lingered a bit longer on the denomination of the belly dancer. "Her name means "pure" and "loyal" in Arabic and she is Ahmed's little sister.",
"Nice to meet you", Olivia nodded curtly, leaning on her cane even more. Her hand started hurting again and she tried to find support in that black wooden stick as imperceptibly as she could.
Nothing could escape Peter's eyes as his palm steadied Olivia's shoulder for the moment.
The girl spoke in heavily accented English as she addressed Olivia.
"It is very nice to meet you too, Agent Dunham. You look like a local, and not at all like a federal agent", Safia's eyes seemed to scan Olivia's face in a curious way.
"That's agent Dunham for you, master of disguise", Peter snorted which earned him a friendly smack on the arm from Olivia.
The girl then turned to Peter and only adoration could be read in her light brown pupils.
Does he have this effect on all the girls we meet?, Olivia wondered.
"Peter, you are full of surprises. Last time I saw you, you were running away from the FBI. Now you are running with them."
"Hey, you know what they say: if you can't beat them, join them", Peter's statement elicited a small smile from Olivia.
"How long are you back for?", it was obvious by Safia's gaze that she wished him to be back for as long as possible.
"Judging by successfulness of our mission", Peter replied sourly, "Agent Dunham here and I will be returning to Boston as soon as I down this…Whiskey? It actually tastes like some undefined swill more than whiskey but…I guess that's what the label says, so I'll bite."
"I know. Ahmed told me you're back. He is very angry with you, Peter. I don't think he can forgive you just yet. I can't guarantee for the future but he will not help you."
"Thanks. I've gathered that much," Peter rubbed his temples and sighed.
"But I hold no grudge towards you," Safia winked at him and landed a long, possessive kiss on his cheek. "Whatever happened between you two, remains between you two. You never did me any harm; quite the opposite", her lips parted into a dreamy smile.
"Safia", Peter glanced towards Olivia and Olivia thought he looked uncomfortable. It seemed as if he desperately craved for a change of topic.
"I understand things are different now but…I think I might be able to assist you and Agent Douglas."
"Dunham", Olivia cleared her throat.
"Whatever", the girl's attention was now focused on Peter only. "Pass me the names of the people you are looking for and in the morning you will have the information, first-hand."
"And what do you wish for in return?" Peter inquired playfully. "Nothing untoward, I hope."
"I will think about it", were the last words she directed to him before she disappeared into the kitchen of the bar, swivelling her hips and Peter scratched his nape.
"Well, that was intriguing", he chuckled. "So there is good news and bad news. Good news is: Safia will get us to talk to the people we need to talk to. Bad news: it won't happen earlier than tomorrow morning and also, no one guarantees they will speak up and collaborate. Still, something is something."
Olivia was a bit irritated and impatient. Seeing how it was only 23 p.m. they were supposed to wait around eight hours for everything to be arranged and checked out by that girl. And if Olivia was bad at something, she was bad at waiting and doing nothing.
She didn't like the fact they depended on Safia and that Peter now apparently owed her some kind of favour. She briefly wondered if it's just her insecurities acting up, since whenever an element from Peter's past would resurface, she felt her present relationship…partnership with him threatened.
Peter Bishop she had with her now was an updated software version, 1.1 and she didn't want him reset to fabric settings by his past memories. She didn't want him changed. Because Olivia liked to believe she had gotten to know him during this past year, and that discovering more and more about her new partner wasn't her changing him, it was her surfacing the real Peter, the persona that he never showed anyone else.
She wondered if she was right and if his caring behaviour that he displayed exclusively towards her, and lately, towards Walter and Astrid, was just another act of his chameleonic nature.
"Penny for your thoughts, boss?", she heard him say in a gentle voice and even so, she jumped on her chair a bit, startled. "I imagine you aren't too happy about the development of the events, Olivia. I know you don't like waiting around or depending on others. But the lady luck seems to have smiled on us. Safia will get the job done. Meanwhile, are you for a drink before we go to bed and wake up to a nearly solved case?", he was in a good mood and it showed.
"Well, now that you are asking, I was going to order some tea.", she replied. "I am a bit cold."
"Tea?" he snorted incredulously. "You need to get something little harder than that into your system if you wish to get warmed up."
"Like what?" Olivia's voice became playful as well.
"Like a Red Russian, for instance."
"What on earth is a Red Russian?", Olivia exclaimed like a curious little girl. The name itself didn't inspire confidence at all.
"Mint tea and vodka."
"Really. Oh, that particular combination sounds so weird, and…awful."
"Actually, it's worse," Peter chuckled. "But you'd be surprised how good it tastes after you've had a couple of them in a row. It takes some time getting used to but afterwards it merely slides down your throat. You absolutely must try it. I insist. It will do us both good. We haven't had much sleep, we are nervous about the case and this will relax us."
"Peter. You don't have to convince me to get a drink," she was now laughing out loud.
"That's true. I've seen you with a whiskey bottle, I've seen you in a bar at Cambridge and I have most definitely seen you have a secret whiskey stash in your office."
"Well, there you have it", her playful tone increased.
The bartender mixed up the ingredients and handed the drink to Olivia. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Peter was observing her carefully, desiring to see the effect the drink will have on her.
After taking the first sip Olivia coughed and gagged, almost spitting it out.
"I told you so," Peter smirked. As far as she could see, he was already on his second one and she wondered how he was doing it, since the taste was a whole new level of awful.
"Take one or two more. It does get better, I promise," he reiterated his previous statement and Olivia went with the flow. What else was there to do, anyway?
The alcohol was warming up her insides and she soon got lost in the smoke of the bar, the background murmur of the patrons and Peter's now hazy silhouette in front of her. The smoke forbade her to see much of him, there were just his full lips, moving, constantly smiling; his huge palms gesticulating and his blue-green eyes.
Olivia could never, for the life of her, guess what colour were Peter's eyes, exactly, and she was trying to do so now, squinting and taking him in as he was telling her some kind of a joke.
She no longer remembered the conversation they had, just its tiny fragments, something about her inquiring about his previous stayings in Baghdad, and Peter replying vaguely, as always, being slippery as an eel under her inquisitorial eye.
After some time it became obvious to her that she was busted, because Peter spoke up addressing her current inebriated state.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dunham. I think it's best if we stop here," she heard his deep, caring voice as if from somewhere far away. "You didn't even eat anything and perhaps we've overdone it a little bit."
"I have actually grown to like it," Olivia listened to her own voice say, and she got scared of the out of the body experience she was having.
"A little bit too much, I'd say," he chuckled. "Come on, let's go. Let's go back to the hotel. Allow me to take you to your room. You need to sleep this off."
When they exited the bar, an unusually warm and stuffy, yet fresh air entered Olivia's nostrils.
She felt as if she were floating on a cushion, sustained by Peter's strong arms.
"Shall I carry you or can you walk?" he mocked her openly, probably knowing she would most definitely protest if he scooped her up and took her in his arms for everyone to see, especially in the streets of Baghdad.
"Don't you dare, Peter Bishop," was the only thing she could mutter, now leaning on him completely, without even using her cane that lay forgotten in Peter's other hand as he seemed to enjoy the presence of Olivia's head on his shoulder.
Their bodies stepped into a comfortable joined pace, set by Olivia's length of stride and their steps fully synchronized as the pair walked down the street in silence.
Stars were uncomfortably twinkling right in front of her eyes, like headlights of numerous tiny cars.
The moon seemed so close and Olivia almost reached out to touch it.
She remembered the Dreamworks logo of a boy fishing on the moon and how much she liked going to the cinema with her mother.
Imagining that she would be able to fish on the moon as well, or at least build a swing and fly, fly away, swing over the entire Earth and observe its inhabitants on all continents.
Contours of building that passed them by waved joyfully to Olivia and they seemed more animated than real, as if Peter and her were walking through a cartoon.
He noticed her dilated pupils, or so it seemed, since he stopped for the moment and looked at her.
"We can go on. It's just… That building winked at me, I swear."
"And here I was thinking I managed to get rid of Walter's ramblings while he is on LSD. Now Agent Dunham is the one who is tripping. Splendid," Peter remarked snarkily and Olivia chuckled.
"Although, I admit you're more fun this way. I might suggest you make the change permanent or start adding this stuff to your morning coffee when we get back to Boston", he threatened her jokingly.
"Peter, for real now: what was in that stuff you gave me? Just mint tea and vodka?"
"Those are the only two ingredients, yeah, as far as I am familiar with the beverage. I don't know about the bartender's recipe though, he might have gotten carried away, who knows what else he put in there," Peter seemed to enjoy the fearing expression that crossed Olivia's face.
"It was tasty, though," she added, now entering the foyer of the hotel. "Thank God we are on the ground floor."
"Yeah, thank God for that," Peter echoed, now stopping indecisively in front of her bedroom. "Imagine me having to carry you all the way upstairs."
"Yeah, right. In your dreams, Bishop. You would never have to carry me and you know it," she was adamant.
"Of course not. Mint tea and vodka can't bring down a ferocious and fearsome agent Olivia Dunham, not for anything in the world. And I would be a fool not to know that," he whispered now, fumbling for the key in her tiny bag. Peter then placed it into a lock and turned it twice towards the right.
"So you liked the drink, eventually?" he whispered huskily, leaning on the doorway with his left arm and barring her passage. Olivia got the sensation he didn't want her to leave to her bedroom yet, that he wanted her to stay there, to keep talking. If there was anything she could do right now, when she was tipsy like this, it was to keep talking. If that's what Peter wanted, that was what he was going to get.
"It was strange," she admitted.
"Strange how?" Peter egged her on.
"Well…It reminded me of you, actually" Olivia's tongue gave her trouble as she tried to transfer her thoughts into words. She was usually doing the opposite, holding her words back, but the alcohol had fogged her mind enough to make her open up.
She could see his head shake quickly left and right, almost imperceptibly, as if he couldn't believe her words and then Peter focused so intensely that she almost forgot how to breathe.
"Of me?", he asked for a clarification in a hushed whisper.
It looked as if his very life depended on the next words she was going to say and Olivia couldn't handle the strength of his gaze. She looked down, feeling an upcoming pain in her temples.
"At first there is this minty, refreshing taste, superficial, nothing special, really. That's how I felt with you on the day I met you. Just some… Mr. Wise Guy, a massive pain in the ass, who jokes around at most inappropriate moments. Refreshing the atmosphere, for sure, but phoney and shallow. But then the vodka flavour kicks in, strong and sturdy and bitter and you can clearly see there is steadiness, depth and profoundness underneath the surface. It's a bit…chameleonic in nature, just like you."
"Olivia," his left palm went to her cheek, and Peter held it there, removing hair from her face.
She inhaled sharply, taking a step backwards but still not quite out of the radius of his warm hand.
"What…", he stammered. "What made you say that?"
"I don't know, Peter. I just…. Thought about it. It came to my mind and I said it." Olivia was beginning to feel too comfortable with his touch for her own good and she knew it. "It's just stupid, and falls under the category of me being drunk and buildings winking at me. And… Aand.." it was her turn to stutter and to turn towards the lock, fumbling for the handle. "I am sure I will feel much better in the morning after I get some sleep."
He stepped away from her, understanding the sign she was giving him. If he was angry or disappointed, he didn't give it away in any way.
Peter's eyes were now extremely guarded, dark, expression in them closed off and unreadable.
Olivia shuddered for some reason after his heat was gone and his palm abandoned her face.
The air in the hallway wasn't cold, far from it, yet she felt like she will never be warm again.
"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow?", Peter mumbled hoarsely, hastily. Olivia almost couldn't even recognize his voice, it was as if it belonged to a stranger.
Before she could even reply affirmatively, she heard Peter fly into his own bedroom and slam the door behind him.
