Okay, I know that this is a bit longer, but trust me, it is worth it.

I hope I did these two justice. I tried my best.

Not sure when I'll get to write my next chapter. I have a vague idea of where I want this to go.


Darkness didn't even begin to describe it. What surrounded Olivia was a blackness the likes of which she had never seen in her entire life. It simultaneously enveloped her and sucked everything out of every ounce of her being. She sat in the corner, hugging her knees in the same position she'd been in every single day for… She stopped. How long had she been here? Long enough for her eyes to have adjusted to the blackness, enough that she could see. She glanced at the wall to her left. She had been marking her days. She was fed twice a day. Once in the morning, once in the evening. She felt like an animal, locked in a cage. At least it afforded her a means of tracking time, although she doubted it was very accurate.

So she looked at the wall, and read: 21 MAY 2010. She then saw all the tally marks she'd made, with her own blood. She'd had no other way to mark her time spent in this prison cell, which had become her own personal hell, so she'd bitten into her finger until she drew blood. She'd written the date so she would remember. Every morning since the first day, she'd bite her finger and make a single tally mark, signifying to no one but herself that she had made it through yet another day. She was surviving. Barely. She kept staring at the wall, at the numerous tally marks, afraid to count them just yet. She thought of Peter instead. The only reason she was still breathing was because of Peter. She had to get through this, so she could get back to Peter. Her Peter. Her faith in Peter never wavered. She knew that he would figure it out. She hoped that it would be before something happened between her alternate self and him. If it went that far before he noticed, she'd be upset, but she wouldn't hold it against him. She'd kill that bitch. He belonged to her. Peter would come for her. She knew he would. She wished he was here now. She rubbed her hands over her eyes and pushed them through her hair.

Again she looked to the wall with her tally marks. This time, she counted. Forty-seven. Forty-seven tally marks. Forty-seven days spent in this cell, alone, separated from Peter. Forty-seven godforsaken days in which she was repeatedly questioned, harassed, by the Secretary. She hadn't given him anything. She refused to answer his questions. In the beginning, she'd begged for her freedom. After she'd realized how futile her efforts were, she'd begun to just ignore his visits altogether. She might've given up on persuading him to let her go, but she wasn't entirely defeated. She would not give this man a single bit of information that could potentially harm the few people she loved. Rachel, Ella, Walter. Peter. Oh God, how she desperately longed for Peter. So, no, she had decided not to tell the Secretary anything that could help him or her impostor. It didn't stop him from coming every day to demand answers.

She was surprised that all he had done so far was to lock her away and try to extract information from her. He must know. He must. About her and Peter. The only reason that he wouldn't have harmed her was if he knew she'd be of some value to him, leverage to use against Peter. Bring him back here. His submission for her freedom. She would never let Peter do that. She crossed her arms over her knees, and lowered her head. However, she was immediately brought to her feet.

Forty-seven days. Oh, my God. She'd been in there for over a month now. When she comprehended what had just occurred to her she was hit with so many emotions that she couldn't stay still. She started pacing. Shit. God damn it, no. This cannot be happening. This most certainly cannot be happening to her. She thought about Peter again, about that night when she had kissed him. She remembered what had happened next.

She felt his arm wrap around her lower back as he drew her more tightly to him. Her body was pressed directly up against his, and yet she still didn't feel close enough. They remained like that for a few minutes. Until she needed more. So she deepened the kiss, decanting as much passion into it as she could. She teased his lips open and her tongue invaded his oral cavity. God he tasted so damn delicious. She couldn't get enough. She was delighted when his tongue returned the favor, and caressed hers lovingly with a passion nearly as fierce as her own. She teasingly brushed her hips up against his, and before she fully knew what she was doing, she was pressed hard into him, and he was backed up against the table.

Her hands found their way to his trousers. She began to undo the button, and as she unzipped his pants, he pulled away from her kiss. "Olivia? What are you doing?" He questioned her. She couldn't tell if it was because he didn't want to, or if he was trying to make sure that she actually knew what she was about to do. "Peter…" her voice was soft and deep, and filled with desperate desire. She looked him dead in the eye and couldn't have wanted him more if she'd tried. She watched his expression change. The pain that had been riddled all over his face left, and was replaced by desire. Desire for her. She could feel the heat growing between them, and was relieved when he began kissing her again.

His magnificent hands deftly removed the leather jacket that was not hers, and then pulled the shirt up over her head. She felt like a snake shedding its skin. She felt strange in the other one's clothing, and was glad when he removed them. She tugged at the waist of his pants, and they fell to the floor. He kicked his shoes off and the pants went with them. He had been planting affectionate kisses all over her neck, shoulders, and chest. She pushed him back to undo the buttons of his collared shirt. She felt his eyes studying her figure, and she could tell that he liked what he saw. She had never felt more beautiful before in her entire life. His hands moved to her belt and unbuckled it. The stolen cargo pants fell to the floor as her hands pulled his shirt from his body. She stepped out of the boots she was wearing and kicked the pants to the side.

Her hands splayed and began exploring his chest, shoulders, and back, all of which were now bare. His skin felt luscious beneath her fingertips. She pressed her lips into his again, wanting another taste of the man she was madly in love with. She felt his hands brush the straps of her black bra off of her shoulders, then travel to her back, unclasping it. It fell silently to the floor. He cupped her breasts in his hands and gently massaged them. His fingers brushed over her nipples and she let out a moan that caught in the back of her throat before escaping her mouth. A devilish grin graced his face as his tongue entered her mouth again, suppressing her moan and taking her breath away.

This was moving along a little too slowly for Olivia. They didn't have much time, and they'd already wasted ten minutes just undressing. She quickly removed her own panties before pulling his boxers down. He turned her around, picked her up, and set her down on the table. Gently, he leaned her back and climbed on top of her, staring so deeply into her eyes that she could feel it in her core. Typically, she was on top. She liked being in control. But with Peter, it was different. She was ready and willing to surrender herself completely to him. She spread her thighs and arched up into him, inviting him in, and she pulled him in for another passionate kiss.

She gasped loudly when he entered her, filling her so completely. Her entire body shuddered beneath him. Her hands caressed his chest and his tangled in her hair as he pulled back and then thrust into her. He was gentle at first, but gained momentum with each subsequent thrust into her, which felt like a burst of pleasure that radiated through her being. They were both panting heavily, and he thrust fully into her. Finally she felt the full power of the man who had been by her side for nearly two years, and she began moaning, unable to contain herself anymore. His rhythm increased. They were getting close. She vaulted up into him and clenched tightly around him, pulling him in as far as she could. He groaned loudly, gasping her name, which cause his name to escape her lips.

All at once, they released together in an explosion of the most intense pleasure either had ever experienced. It felt as though the fabric of both universes was crashing down onto them, and flowing through them. Olivia was nearly screaming, and Peter was making deep, sensual, guttural sounds that made Olivia want to scream even louder. He collapsed onto her, completely spent. He was gasping for air. Suddenly Olivia felt like her cells were going to catch fire. He brushed a hand across her forehead and into her hair. "Are you…alright?" he panted out, "You feel like you're on fire." Olivia lay there, and groaned as the table caught fire. She pushed him up off of her and he stood watching as she rolled off of the burning table, back into his arms. "Oh, God!" she exclaimed, "Peter, I'm so sorry!" "No, Liv. Are you okay?" He was wildly concerned for her wellbeing. She stared at him, a sultry look in her eyes, and told him, "Never been better." The grin on her lips would have been enough to kill him right then and there. He grinned back at her, and kissed her again.

She was greeted brashly by the blackness of her cell. Oh, God. Olivia pressed a hand to her forehead as she grimaced. She felt so irresponsible. She never should have let it go that far. She did not regret it at all, but she now realized that she should have waited. Her head was aching something terrible as she sat on the bench of her cell. Shit. She felt sick. Really, really sick. She began retching violently. Forty-seven days, and not on a single one of those days had she menstruated. So she sat there, shaking and crying, alone and pregnant in her cell. Now really wishing Peter was there.