Find Me

Olivia lies awake while Peter sleeps, but does he sleep?


The clock face burned into the dark night. The red light glowed 12:10 at her from its place on the nightstand. She ran her hand through her hair and stared at the roof. Why could she not sleep? Sighing, she rolled her head to the side, where Peter's even breathing brought her comfort. His sleep made her relax. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, the smell just soothing her tense muscles. He was her relaxation, the feeling of comfort and calamity that was so absent in her life. But at night, when the lights in the world went out and she was awake she found her serenity in his even breathing.

She didn't know it, but he was awake. He kept up his pretense of even breathing knowing it relaxed her. He heard her head shifted toward him and he almost smiled at her. But he didn't. He loved the small moments with Olivia. Ones like right now, where she would look at him and relax, the moments where her defenses where down and it was only Olivia. Moments like when she just gets out from a shower, her hair damp on her neck and a certain calm composure to her stance or the moments where she's standing in the kitchen deciding what to eat. Moments where she would not think he was watching, but he was. It was then that he felt at his best, knowing she was human too.

When her weight on her side of the bed shifted, Peter frowned. Opening his eyes he let them adjust to the room, watching as she pulled on a robe from the chair near their bed. She moved quietly to the doors that led to a terrace in their room. She pulled open the door and stepped out. Her hair blew out behind her as she stepped onto the terrace. Peter sat up slowly, rubbing his hair back before getting up himself. He wandered out behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, warming his skin against her robe.

"Peter," she gasped, startled that he was there, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," Peter answered softly with a smile. He kissed her neck lightly and nuzzled against her skin. Olivia stared of into the dark night.

"What's on your mind?" Peter asked with a soft voice. Olivia shrugged and wrapped her fingers over Peter's that lay on her waist.

"Nothing," Olivia answered to quickly. Peter smiled into the skin of her neck, his breath keeping her warm.

"I know that's a lie," Peter said, his lips kissing her skin again. Olivia stared up at the moon and sighed loudly

"Have you ever wished for, I don't know something normal?" Olivia asked.

"Normal?" Peter said lifting his head, "You suddenly want to be normal?"

"No," Olivia defended, "I just wonder what normal would be for us, you know."

"Frankly, Liv, I don't." Peter chuckled. Olivia spun around in his arms and glared at him. His light mirth was suddenly shot down in her glance.

"All right," he sighed, stroking back a strand of her long blonde hair, "If we were normal, if this world were normal, do you think we'd be together?"

She thought for a moment and then shook her head and smiled.

"I like being not normal now," she said with a smile. Peter agreed with a kiss.

"Now," he said gazing up at the moon, "Would you like to return to bed?"

"I'll be there in a while," Olivia said turning her face to the sky again.

"I'll wait," Peter answered. Olivia smiled and remained quiet.

Perhaps it wasn't the peace of the night that calmed her. Perhaps it wasn't the feeling that while the world slept she was still going. Maybe it wasn't because she could not turn her mind off at night or the coffee that wakes her in the morning or the alcohol she consumes at night. Perhaps the calamity of the night was simply because Peter was there, a Peter that was different from the rest, a Peter that promised time and time again that leaving her was no option. Yet she still felt one day, maybe she'd lose him forever and that was going to break her.

That fear kept him at bay for so long. She kept him an arms length away, neatly dodging his moves at every turn, like an elegant dance between professional dancers, twisting and turning at each step. He'd block her path with a fancy move and she'd twirl from his grasp. And like a beautiful ballet the world around would watch them dance, her movements always out of grasp of his.

He'd never falter a step, even when she'd literally crawl away from him. His moves were fluent and perfect while her steps would have mistakes, beats would be added, beats would be removed-her movements would become stiff and wrong to the sound of their music. But then she would regain her movement and slide away in a twirl. He'd clasp onto her waist and lift her in the air effortlessly. She'd worry he'd drop her, but he never had and he would not now. Just like a dance Peter had lifted her in the air and held her there. It was a feeling that she couldn't shake something so abnormal and weird, it almost felt in place.

His fingers brushed the back of hers, her long pale and bare fingers in his hands, the cold air being warded off by his hands so that her skin remained warm to his touch. He found himself at home with her warm skin. He found that her warmth and wellness kept him here, kept him still. He'd never held onto a relationship in his life, never felt anything past lust for anyone before and here he was for nearly 3 months sharing the bed of a woman that was stubborn, cynical, fearless and most of all venerable. He'd always told himself that he wasn't the hero type and yet here he played the hero for her. Was he any good at it? Probably not. He was probably a horrible hero, someone who'd more than likely need to be saved than was good at saving. And yet when ever Olivia was scared, which was rare, he was there with the right words, though he'd never have known it.

"I think I'll go back to bed," Olivia announced, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. Peter, whose face rested in her neck and eyes closed breathed out and opened his eyes.

"You sure?" he sighed lifting his head like it was much to heavy for his shoulders.

"I'm tired Peter, and I feel better," she said giving him a kiss, "You make me feel better."

Peter gave a grin to her, but his eyes were shining greatly. He wanted to scream on the rooftops that he made the emotionless Olivia Dunham feel better, but he restrained himself with a nod. Letting go of her he watched as she wandered back to bed-their bed and climbed in. She pulled the covers up and smiled at him. He looked at her.

She knew how to fix him, even when he couldn't. She found him, when he forgot himself and now she was staring at him with her perfect eyes, perfect hazel eyes. He almost felt selfish for taking them to himself, for keeping her beautiful face from others. But he knew, deep down inside, that this selfishness was someone a punishment for his mistake, but somehow this punishment backfired. Instead of being a punishment, Olivia Dunham was his heaven.