Leaving Olive
Disclaimer: I don't own Olivia I think she belongs to Peter, and since it's only fair I guess I'd have to say that Peter belongs to Olivia…though maybe she'd let me borrow him once in a while? : 3
Chapter Two – Peter's POV
Peter watched her fall to the ground; body curled in on itself protectively as great wracking sobs ravaged her tiny frame. The woman he'd always believed to be tough as nails, unbendable and un-wielding, incapable of fault or failure.
She was failing apart before his very eyes.
Shattering into a million tiny pieces.
Could this really be the Dunham he'd watched so many times, unwavering and steadfast. Closed off and untouched by even the most gut wrenching of cases.
No that wasn't true, Peter amended.
Not untouched, Olivia Dunham was not frozen and unfeeling.
Just the opposite in fact.
Olivia Dunham cared to the point that her walls became necessary to function in the world they lived in.
Each Case, each hurt and wrong she saw she took in like kindling; fueling the fire of purpose that controlled and consumed her life. Burning hotter and brighter like a blue beacon on a stormy sea, so many times Peter had been captivated by that light; drawn like a moth to a flame by the conviction in her eyes; the belief that she would stop whatever evil it was that they were pursuing, that she would slay the dragon and save the world once again.
Olivia absorbed and transposed everything they encountered taking it on as her own personal crusade, battling against other's demons with the fervor people hardly dedicated to their own lives let alone a complete strangers.
Olivia Dunham was at odds with the world's injustices for everyone she came across, except it seemed when it came to him.
Peter had thought Olivia's shield of protection, her sense of duty had passed him by when she'd learned of his true identity.
Hurt and feeling abandoned Peter had wondered why he had not been worthy of her relentless sense of justice, she'd known and she had withheld the information from him, he knew it, could see it in her eyes when he woke in the hospital.
Why had she hurt him the way Walter did? Let him down the way that everyone in this world seemed to. Was he so imperfect so undeserving of the justice Olivia sought for all others?
Maybe this was his justice, seeing her like this, not crumpled and ruined on the floor as she was now but like THIS.
Raw, Alive, unable to separate herself any longer from the world and all its demons and hurt.
Proof that Olivia Dunham DID react to him not just as a partner and a consultant but as a friend, a companion and someone she had failed to protect.
Peter Bishop did matter to Olivia Dunham; or the woman he saw breaking before him could not exist.
This was Olivia, not the agent not the pragmatic partner but the woman, the very essence that she was centered around; this raw uncontrolled reaction that she tried to shut out from the world was the woman he wanted to know, desperately needed to see, to touch to know that she was real, and not some two dimensional character in a play; un-changed by her surroundings and feelings.
Almost soundless in his soft soled boots Peter approached her, not that Olivia could have heard him through her tears. Never before had Peter imagined her like this; it broke his heart; and at the same time in some ways helped to mend it. To know that he was not alone with his emotions; that she felt them as keenly and acutely as he did.
Peter bishop had felt abandoned, and Alone, not only that Betrayed and lost when he'd realized waking in the hospital what he had only started to grasp on the bridge…he was not of this world; and Olivia had known. He remembered the bitter pain, like his heart was being pulled from his chest, as he tried to come to terms with her lies.
Which was ridiculous really; Olivia Dunham has sworn no oath to him.
She had made no promise to uphold the truth and to include him in everything she discovered.
Many things in fact she did keep to herself, her dreams and nightmares, the things that made her look tired in those early morning meetings the things that tortured and followed her even in sleep.
No, Olivia Dunham had not promised anything to Peter Bishop.
But He had sworn an oath to her, to protect and follow her, to love her in any way that she would let him, until he could finally break through to her, to Olivia herself, not the Agent, not the Badge, to the woman who smiled at him for brief moments over coffee and who laughed at his stupid jokes.
The woman who was proving to him right now that he had touched her; more than he'd realized. That he had succeeded in deeply entrenching himself into her heart, and now without him she was falling apart.
Soundlessly, he reaches out for her; wordlessly he pulls her into his embrace, for there are no words, not now. Not at a moment like this. Words have failed them both; so many times, too many to count that at this moment, at this fragile impasse as she sobs his name and clings to his shirt Peter knows that there may never be enough words to communicate this feeling, to classify it and impersonalize it as she likes to do.
There are no words now, only actions, and reactions.
Smoothing his fingers through her hair and cradling her against his chest Peter waits. He has waited years for this moment, what feels like a lifetime spent on the outside of Olivia's life looking into where he cannot wait to be, where he needs to be.
He is not complete without her, and now he knows, she is not complete without him.
He is murmuring soft things into her hair and stroking her back and she clings to him like a drowning victim in a raging sea. Her grief will pull them both under if he doesn't do something, so he acts.
He kisses her to save her, to save himself.
She is desperate and needy under his hands clinging to him, unable to get close enough. Peter holds her against him and kisses her as she cries, cradling her against the warmth and safety of his frame, he envelopes her body and her senses like a familiar blanket.
Bringing Comfort, and safety, and a very different kind of desperate need.
Soon she is not just clinging to him, but tugging his shirt from his frame, and undoing the belt at his waist, and Peter consumed with the same desperate need mirrors her actions.
They practically rip the clothes from each other's bodies, piling them haphazardly on the floor in a forgotten tangle, and when there are no barriers between them just soft skin against hard muscle he enters her, his body and rhythm is rough and frantic, but his hands are soft against her skin, cupping her chin, kissing her face, locking her body against his almost uncomfortably tight.
He calls out her name as she lets herself go right there on the wood floor with the hard surface digging into her shoulder blades; her back sliding across it's cool surface with each thrust of his hips. But she doesn't care, because he's here, and he is real, and he didn't abandon her as she feared.
When her breathing is not so ragged, and their trembling has stilled he lifts her from the floor, and carries her to the bedroom.
Making love to her again, this time slower, less distressed and more sensual, taking his time to discover every nook and cranny that she has to offer; memorizing every gasp, and moan. Fascinated by the way her head tosses on the pillow, and her hair fans out around her head like a golden halo. The way her fingers feel against his heated skin and how her nails drag slowly and almost painfully down his spine as she comes under his ministrations again.
He captures every moment, every action in his mind to replay later when he is alone and cannot touch her like this.
In the early morning light Olivia awakens alone, the linen's tucked in around her and a note on her pillow.
"I love you –P"
Olivia hugs her pillow to her chest and inhales his scent, masculine and male and all Peter.
She doesn't cry, not this time.
He has written more than just his feelings on the note; he has written it on every inch of her skin tracing his conviction onto her with his hands, and mouth, branding his name across her with his fingertips.
"You're Mine, We belong together,"
It was a promise etched into her heart and soul that said "I'll Be Back."
Olivia smiled in the early morning light, Peter would be back, and she could wait.