Chapter 1

The shadows of two normally well-composed FBI cohorts flickered along the wall as they made their way toward the staircase, pausing every few moments as the urge to makeout against the wall like teenagers became entirely too much to handle. Olivia tugged on Peter's hand as she tiptoed down the stairs, carefully avoiding the creaky step near the bottom. He chuckled, pushing her lightly into the kitchen with a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, while his free hand slid over her hip, pressing her back into him suggestively. Nipping at his fingers until he let go with a quiet, laughing yelp, Olivia reached into the freezer for a tub of ice cream, checking thoroughly to be sure that was really what it was, not one of Walter's experiments, before popping open the lid.

Peter turned his attention to her neck, lips and tongue and teeth worrying the soft skin there, even as his hands made it more and more difficult to keep quiet. Moaning softly, Olivia scooped out a spoonful of good, old-fashioned strawberry ice cream and slid it between her lips. He watched enviously at the way she sucked every last bit of the dessert from her spoon before diving it back into the carton.

A smirk pulled at her lips and she turned in his arms, offering up a heaping scoop. Peter leaned in, happy to take it off her hands, as he lifted her up onto the counter, fingers sneaking beneath the hem of one of his shirts. He licked the ice cream slowly from his lips, drawing a giggle from her with an arch of his eyebrow. Smirking, Peter cupped her chin in his hand and stole a kiss, only to have her wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

"You are entirely too clothed," he mumbled against her lips, hands straying.

"What, right here?" Olivia whispered back hesitantly, even as a yearning smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Peter grinned, nodding. "Oh, yes," he promised, his voice hot and sultry on her skin before adding a taunting whisper of, "You can be quiet, can't you?" She moaned, ready and willing and wanting, until the floor beneath them shook and the lights flickered. They both froze. Earthquakes in Boston typically meant one thing and it was far from conducive to romance.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Olivia whispered a 'no, no, not now…' in his ear that he was sure she wasn't even aware of. Peter pulled away from her slowly, hand sliding up her arm. "Shh, it's okay, sweetheart…" he whispered soothingly, reaching for his phone.

"Did it work?" A muffled whisper came from the living room and they both jumped, eyes shooting wide open. Olivia scrambled for her gun in the jacket draped over the back of a chair while Peter flipped his phone open, the fact that he got so much use out of Broyles being on his speed dial only briefly bothering him.

Sliding one hand around the corner, Olivia abruptly flipped on the lights, her gun resting firmly on her wrist. "Did what work?" she demanded, only to stop stock still in horror at the trio standing in the Bishops' living room.

Walter's footsteps pounded on the cold floor, his sleep-addled voice yelling something about "Did you feel that?" But he too stopped short as he ran into the living room, nearly tumbling over.

Peter stood frozen in the doorway, phone to his ear and shock on his face. "Peter? Bishop, are you there?" Broyles' voice demanded roughly through the speaker. "Uh, uh, ye-yeah. You're gonna want to get a team together and get to my house. The other shoe just dropped." He hung up, hand falling limply to his side.

A redheaded Olivia with circles under her eyes smiled weakly at him. "Hey, Peter. Surprise." To either side of her stood Charlie and Lincoln, both with concern in their eyes and a hand on one of her arms, supporting her.

All Peter noticed, however, was the rounded belly her hand rested on.

Olivia paced back and forth in the kitchen, still wearing Peter's shirt but having added a pair of sweatpants before Broyles and the others arrived. She ran her fingers through her hair, glancing masochistically into the living room at Peter and her double. On the fifth or sixth pass, Nina reached out and grabbed her hands firmly. "Olivia."

She glanced up in surprise before her shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry. Where were we?"

Broyles slid a file across the table to her. "Brandon measured the earthquake at a 3.2. No reported physical damage. We can't be sure what kind of tears it could have created though." He went on to tell her more about what little they did know, but she wasn't listening anymore.

Peter clenched his hands into fists as he watched Lincoln gently press a cold cloth to her forehead. Olivia – Fauxlivia, that is, the fake one, the one he hates, Peter had to remind himself – had collapsed just after crossing over and they were only just now managing to wake her up. "Hey, Liv…" Lincoln murmured softly. "Wake up…"

She blinked up at him wearily, a sigh already on her lips. "The baby…" she breathed, lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

"The little monster's fine," Charlie promised with a smile, leaning over the back of the couch to squeeze her hand. "You're gonna be fine."

Olivia rolled her eyes at him. "Thanks, Bug Boy," she grumbled good-naturedly, her eyes fluttering shut as she rested against Lincoln's shoulder. He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead but Peter's uncharacteristically sharp voice cut between them.

"I'm sorry. Not to break up the sweet little family moment you've got going on here but I would really like a good, solid reason for why I didn't let Olivia shoot you all where you stand," he demanded, cold and callous.

Charlie glanced up, jaw set. "I think there's a pretty obviously good reason," he shot back, his hand tightening around Olivia's protectively.

Peter looked about ready to shoot him himself and it was only Nina's hand on his arm that kept him from lunging. "Peter," she said firmly and simply, yet still leaving little room for misinterpretation. He clenched his jaw, eyes skimming over Olivia's stomach again as he walked into Walter's room, grateful Astrid had arrived soon after the others to take over in the vain attempt to keep the older man calm.

Broyles quickly assigned agents to Charlie and Lincoln as Nina rather firmly tried to send Olivia home. "No one knows her like I do. I was her, for God's sake!" she protested. "No. No, I'm staying."

"Olivia-" she started to disagree but Peter caught her elbow, shaking his head silently as he stepped outside onto the porch. Nina pressed her lips together lightly, glancing between the tense couple and let the matter rest.

"The other two are being taken in for questioning," Broyles explained as they all gathered outside.

"They're quite a handful," Nina put in dryly. "Took everything to convince them to leave her."

"It's up to you whether we take her in or not," Broyles murmured, glancing between Peter and Olivia, arms crossed, turned away from each other.

Olivia's jaw tightened fiercely. "We should take her in. No need to treat her any differently."

Peter huffed, shaking his head. "No, no. We'll interview her here. No sense in having two of you loose at the FBI sooner than necessary." They glared at each other so intently for a moment that the other two almost felt they were intruding.

Finally, Olivia clenched her fists, her eyes never leaving Peter's as she said, "Nina, will you take Walter back with you? He doesn't need to be here for this." She turned on her toe without waiting for an answer and marched determinedly back into the house.

The older pair shared a sigh and a worried glance at Peter, his face impassive and stony. "Just a half an hour ago she was… giggling. Actually happy. Did I just imagine it again?" he asked, voice soft and broken.

Nina waved Broyles into the house and rested a hand on Peter's arm. "No," she promised gently. "I saw it too. You do make her happy, Peter."

"Then why can't she trust that I'll choose her?" Peter glanced down at her and it nearly broke her heart to see the tears teetering in his eyes. Faltering, Nina tried to forget Sam's warning but her own doubt must have shown on her face. "Does no one have any faith in me?" he asked softly, pulling away and leaving her there on the sidewalk.

When she finally worked up the courage to walk back into the house, Astrid was the only one who noticed her. "Walter's packing a bag," she said with a sigh, placing the now-melted strawberry ice cream back in the freezer. "He isn't happy about being shipped off to New York but I don't think Olivia will budge on this one."

"No, I don't believe she will. She's only trying to protect him," Nina murmured, glancing into the living room at two versions of the woman in question and the man in love with them both.

Astrid followed her gaze, swallowing hard. "You don't think… I mean, it has to be a ruse, right? It can't really be Peter's."

Sam's voice echoed in her ears, ("I wouldn't be so sure of that…"), and Nina bit back a shudder. "We'll see," she promised.