Bodies and Butterflies

"Dunham," she spoke into the receiver, answering and sending what was probably the tenth voicemail she had and taking calls as they flooded her phone. She had forgotten to take her phone off silent after coming out of her department meeting and driving to the liqueur store to grab the fated bottle of whiskey that was the precursor to her rushed morning.

"I've been trying to call you all god-damned night, Dunham, were the hell have you been!"

Olivia winced at the stinging words of Broyles as she picked up the phone. Her ear began to burn at the reprimand Broyles slapped against her. A silent frustration entered through her receiver as he quietly waited for an answer to why she had not any calls, text messages or e-mails he sent, needing her for a new investigation that had found its way to the Fringe department around three in the morning. She bit her lip, thinking of a quick response.

"I apologize, sir, my," she grabbed the first validation that came to mind, "my phone broke, dropped it by accident down the stairwell coming back from the store. I had to grab a new one this morning before heading into the office."

Broyles huffed. "That's the third phone you've gone through this month, Dunham. I had Agent Farnsworth contact Dr. Bishop and Peter; they'll be meeting us there as well. I hope you didn't eat breakfast, this one's a bit… gruesome."

"I'll be there in about ten minutes, sir." She hit end and placed her phone back in the cup holder. Exactly the way she liked to start off her mornings. A cup of coffee, bowl of oatmeal, and a nice, sadistic murder to investigate. Sighing, Olivia licked her lips, ultimately regretting not grabbing a tube of Chap Stick. That was the one thing she hated about the winter; freezing temperatures that chilled one to the bone, drying out and aggravating every exposed orifice to the cruel Boston winds. She shuttered at the mere thought of it, the hair on her arms crawling as a small shiver made its way up and down her arms. Or maybe it wasn't the winter that made her lips go dry.

Something else, however, made her stomach turn inside out. Blood, guts and gore didn't bother her as much as it did in the beginning. No, what made the fearless Olivia Dunham's stomach uneasy was the thought of seeing Peter this morning, and the memories of their night together. Sure, maybe the three or four glasses of whiskey got her head swimming a bit, and maybe it was the trust factor that she secretly employed in him. Maybe it was a mistake to have been with him last night. A romantic and equally terrifying, blissful night that had put a smile on her face and left her feeling well rested. She had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted, to be needed; what it felt like to be touched and loved the way any woman would dream it would be like.

These fluttering butterflies were what made this morning different for her. Instead of grabbing her normal attire, the professional black and white she found safety in, she found herself reaching for a pair of gray slacks and a deep, emerald green button up shirt that put a shining accent on her eyes. It was what made her decide to keep her hair down and let it flow freely from her shoulders; a look she had caught Peter gazing at on numerous occasions. It was what made her reach into her medicine cabinet and open up the bottle of sweet lavender perfume she had bought almost three years ago. For whatever reasons she could not fathom, she wanted to look nice today. No. Ravishing. No. Exquisite.

Pulling up on to the scene found herself staring into the vast emptiness of the open warehouse, brought to life by the buzz of car engines and radios. She unbuckled and placed her forehead on the steering wheel, begging the nerves in her stomach to calm down and ultimately regretting what she chose to wear. Someone would notice something different. She huffed, drew in a deep breath or two and exited into the winter air, grabbing her gun and badge and stepped out of the car. Today was strangely warm, making her leave her coat in the car. Her eyes continued to scan her surroundings.

What was lacking from the scene was the Bishop's car. That was until a moving van across the way turned a corner, revealing the old, but reliable sedan, its doors locked and its inhabitants most likely inside. The butterflies sped up and her muscles shook slightly.

Shit.

Olivia grabbed the last safe lungful of air and began her walk up the winding cement steps to the loading dock entrance, gave her name to the local cop and entered. All around her, the sun shown brilliantly through the broken windows that surrounded the upper walls of the warehouse and illuminated the scene nicely. At least today, she thought, it was sunny.

"About time you showed up," Broyles said as he entered and handed her a folder. "I was beginning to think we scared you off."

She grinned. "We've been working together for how many years; I don't think you can scare me off that easily."

"Case in point. The body was found this morning around four in the morning by a garbage man coming to collect the cans. We know very little about the victim, twenty-four year old Veronica Marshall, according to the driver's license. She was found beaten, battered, bruised and dead. No signs of forced entry into the warehouse, but there was definitely a struggle."

"So if it appears to be a," she paused to think of the word, "normal case, then why was Fringe called in?"

Broyles handed her the folder, "Come see for yourself."

They rounded the corner to find Walter was examining the body; her blank, lifeless eye stared into Olivia's as she entered the scene. An unsettling eeriness crept over her as she walked closer. Immediately she felt the warmth of the sun leave her skin, replaced by a damp, aching cold that bit at her cheeks. The small smile she had managed to put on was gone. In front of her lay a woman, battered, bruised, bloody and nude. What struck her the most was the dead woman's eyes, for in them she saw the true meaning of horror in what seemed to be her final minutes. The blue of her eyes cut razors into Olivia as an unsettling wave of nausea swept over her and her mouth ran dry. Olivia swallowed hard as she bent down next to Walter, who turned to her with his normal charm as she stopped next to him.

"Agent Dunham!" Walter exclaimed, the wrinkles of his skin curled into a full faced smile, "Beautiful day is it not? How did you sleep last night you look positively radiant this morning!"

She grinned at him, "I slept fine, thank you. What do we know so far, Walter, anything?"

Walter bounced up off his kneeling spot and walked around to face her. "Unfortunately, the only thing I can decipher is that this woman died a tragic, horrifying and painful death, from what I can imagine. She had ligature marks on her neck, suggesting strangulation," he opened the dead woman's eye lid, "But what's curious is no broken vessels in the eyes, or orbital edema from the backup of fluid as she was either held down or hung."

Olivia rubbed her throat and swallowed hard. Maybe the whiskey from last night wasn't a good idea after all. Her stomach continued to do flip flops at the uneasiness she felt at this scene.

"What is curious as well, look at these marks, puncture sites on the inside of her arm, opposite her elbows," Walter raised the woman's arm to reveal several small, dime sized bruises. "It appears that our victim was either an illicit drug user, or a test subject. Which one is still to be determined."

"Track marks," Olivia said, counting at least ten on one arm. "She was found in an abandoned warehouse, looks like a bad night gone wrong. So what makes this a Fringe case?"

From behind her Peter entered with a few petri dishes and handed them to Walter. "Did you show Agent Dunham her belly button, Walter?" Walter, however, was back in his zone, examining the bruises on her arm. Peter huffed. "Here," he said, bent down and removed the sheet where a pool of blood had gathered. "See?"

Olivia turned her head in both awe and disgust. "It's missing," she stated. Where the woman's belly button used to be was a four in by four inch chunk of flesh removed, all the way down to the woman's pelvis, clearly seen. Her stomach took another turn. "That's… disgusting."

Peter grinned. "That's not the worst of it, either. Walter seems to think this woman was raped before meeting her fate; she's got a lot of bruising on her inner thighs and near the pubic bone. Scratches and cuts are all over her, poor girl." Peter went to remove the sheet but Olivia stopped him, grabbing his hand as her fingers burned.

"I'd rather not," she said. Quickly she removed his hand from his. She stood and got a face full of sun, a warm welcome to the dampness of the warehouse. She felt Peter's eyes on her as she stared into the burning star, trying to erase the image from her mind.

"You look very nice to day, Olivia," Peter whispered, bringing her back to Earth. "Green suits you well."

"Peter," she squeaked, trying not to hint at anything, trying to hide the uneasiness she felt. From where he kneeled, continuing to examine her body, Walter glanced up and his grin grew in size at the secret he kept, their secret. "Morning to you too."

Peter raised an eye brow, teasing her. "You look well rested, finally get some sleep?"

She turned to him and shook her head, forcing a smile, "Yea, I did, actually." She pulled the corners of her lips together and flattened them, staring at Peter, warning him silently to not continue onward with whatever thought process he had in mind.

"I know that face all too well," he said and grinned at her, chuckling. "This place gives me the creeps too." He continued to connect with her fiery gaze. "Walter, find anything else?"

The aging man stood. "Until I do an autopsy I won't know. Peter," he began.

Peter threw his hands up, begging for Walter to not repeat himself as it did, "Bring the body back to your lab, I know. I'll go speak with Broyles to have it arranged. If you'd like to ride back with the body, again, before you ask, I'll see what I can do."

Walter leaped for joy as he gathered his equipment and the coroner's began to wrap up the body. He turned to Olivia and Peter excitedly, "Nothing better than a murder mystery at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday. Son, I'll meet you back at the lab." He pranced away in the only way Walter knew, a hop in his step and a body in an ambulance, ready for transport, leaving Olivia and Peter alone in close proximity. She could feel his eyes on her, running down her neck line and soaking in her presence.

"Olivia" Peter turned to her.

"I'm going to head back to the office and begin to get a report typed, I'll meet you in the lab in a bit," she said and left abruptly, leaving Peter confused behind her. He had seen the look in her eyes before, the uncertainty in them, the small ounce of fear that had taken the Olivia he knew last night. He grunted, wondering- hoping- that she didn't regret last night. After all, he didn't. Peter continued to watch her walk away, talk with Broyles and then head for her car. As she buckled she looked out the window and saw him staring at her with a small smile on his face.

Why was she running from this again, the answer eluded her as she turned the ignition on and left in a hurry, running from a fear she had yet to identify. Immediately she left like an idiot. She could have smiled, greeted him and returned his secret smile, sealing away a wonderful gift she received from him, and it was all hers. She did enjoy herself last night, in fact, it was one of the best nights she had had in a while. Her stomach continued to turn in confusion as she made her way through the streets of Boston, running from an unknown fear. She had not had this feeling in a while… safety, security, passion. She gave herself a thousand reasons for what had made her run, but in the end it came down to only one.

Turning a corner she forced herself to pull over and calm down, feeling her heart rate escalate and her breathing increase. Her eyes watered as she took deep breaths and placed her head on the steering wheel, the cool leather felt refreshing against her burning forehead. She was falling, and falling hard. After John, she made herself a promise that she wouldn't get involved with a co-worker, not ever again. The pain of losing someone she cared for was enough, to have to go through it a second time was something her heart could not tolerate. As much as she tried to push the thought out of her head, his voice, his scent, his lips were the only thing invading her mind.

She drew in a few deep breaths and swallowed. Every time she saw him she got butterflies. Every time they kissed her body betrayed her and shook with desire. Every time he saw his beautiful eyes she felt a longing comfort and compassion she had been robbed of once before. No matter how much she fought, no matter how she tried to talk herself out of it, she couldn't. She couldn't help it. She could deny it all she wanted, but by the time she put the truck in drive, she was certain of only one thing. Olivia turned the SUV around and made her way towards the inner city, looking for refuge from uncertainty in the only person she knew who could give her advice as to what to do, and the answers she wanted to hear.

Downtown Boston
12:15pm

"Aunt Liv!" a small voice exclaimed as the door opened, Ella jumped into Olivia's arms, overjoyed by the surprise visit from her. "What are you doing here; you're supposed to be catching the bad guys!"

Olivia smiled wide, "Well I was in the area and decided to stop by and say hello." She sniffed the air as a light scent of cheddar and bread crumbs filled her nose. "Mom making macaroni and cheese again?"

"Don't you complain about my mac-and-cheese, Liv," Rachel called from the kitchen. "It's fantastic."

"And about the only thing you can cook without burning," Olivia teased as Ella hug around her neck happily. She kissed her niece on the cheek and set her down, "I need to talk with your mom, baby girl, go play." Ella happily obliged and ran into the living room to watch TV. The mask she put on left, and Rachel saw right through it.

"Liv, what's wrong?" Rachel asked, stirring the macaroni in the pot, "you look like you're going to be sick."

"I slept with Peter," she burst out loud and sighed, running her fingers through her hair, taking in a deep breath and trying to calm herself down, finally getting it off her chest. She swallowed hard as Rachel handed her a glass of water. "And before you ask, no, this isn't related to whether or not I think I'm pregnant." Rachel said nothing, her face a blank slate, soaking in the news that Olivia just delivered. Seconds passed like years. "For Christ's sake Rachel, say something," Olivia pleaded.

Rachel stood emotionless, then slowly and achingly, smiled at her sister. "Well it's about time you two hit it off." Olivia choked on the water, not expecting that answer at all.

"What do you mean by that?"

Rachel grinned at her. "What did you want to hear? 'Liv what's wrong with you, why did you do that? You work together, this is a bad idea?'"

Olivia threw her hands into the air, "Yes!" She exclaimed and removed her coat as the heat crept up her neck. She pulled out the chair, and sat down, putting her head in her hands. "You're supposed to tell me that this is a bad idea, that I'm only going to get hurt again and that this was a mistake."

"Honestly, I think it's a good thing," Rachel said. "I'm going to give it to you straight. Over the past two years you've been working with him, I have never seen you smile more, or seem more relaxed. You always glow around him. And quite frankly he compliments you. You're intense, for lack of a better word, and Peter is seemingly, care free. You're a pain in the ass sometimes, and he knows how to put you in your place." Olivia stared at her sister, not expecting this side of a conversation at all. "He brings out the best of you, Liv, the side that can show emotion, the one that can leave work at work and just enjoy yourself for a night. The romantic, kinky side of you that I haven't seen since you first started dating John."

Olivia was still silent, taking in Rachel's words. Rachel continued to speak, "If that's what you're worried about, about getting your heart broken, I think you'd break his before he breaks yours by not seeing this through. If your history with John is what's preventing you from moving forward, don't let it; and if I know you as well as I do, that's exactly what's making you afraid. You can mask it all you want, Liv, but I can see right through it and so can Peter."

Olivia went to open her mouth, but no words came out. She was silenced by Rachel, her mind unable to process. Rachel sat down and placed her hand on Olivia's shoulders. "You've had it rough, Liv. From what you went through with Dad, his alcoholism, the abuse, the shooting," she paused, "With John, it's hard for you to trust anyone, men in particular. You know, every day for what Jake did to you, I don't blame you. No one can. That's why you're so good at your job. Nothing can bring you down, except for a little crush that brings everything tumbling." Rachel's voice dropped in pitch, softening. "You've been alone for so long, Liv that you've forgotten what it's like to feel loved. Peter can do that, he has done that. Don't push him away."

Olivia grinned. "I thought profiling was my job."

Rachel chucked. "Well I learned from the best, what can I say?" Olivia's grin faded. "Let him in, Liv, tell Peter everything. Be happy for once, live it up, you absolutely deserve it. So what if you spent a night in bed with him. You may not show it, but it's in your eyes. You mind says no, but your heart begs for it. Tell him know what makes FBI Agent Dunham tick and what makes her weak at the knees." Rachel grinned. "Cause if he's anything like Adam was in the sack when you were seventeen, I'd be impressed."

Olivia gasped and gave Rachel a playful smack on the shoulder, "You swore you'd never bring that up again," making Olivia burst into laughter and embarrassment, her cheeks flushing.

"So he was good," she raised an eyebrow and Olivia blushed even more. "You're pushing thirty-two, have some fun. Give Peter a run for his money. I know you can." She sipped a glass of water. "And then I want details." This pulled another laughing fit from Olivia, some tension rolling off her shoulders. "If not, I'll bring up the dirty, kinky details of your sex life pre-FBI to Peter and scare him away myself. I'm sure he'd love to hear that."

"You wouldn't," Olivia challenged, but saw the persistent stare Rachel gave her. "Maybe you would then." She huffed, sighing. "If I don't-" she stopped, Rachel's face hadn't changed. "You'll come and kick my ass, won't you?" Rachel nodded and Olivia shook her head, sighing again. "Tomorrow."

"Tonight." Rachel pushed. "Tell him tonight, because if you don't, you never will, I know you."

A small smile formed at the corners of Olivia's mouth. "Tonight," she echoed. "Thanks, Rach I need to get back into the office. Call you tomorrow?"

Rachel nodded, "looking forward to it. Ella!" she called, "lunch! Come say good bye to Aunt Liv." The pitter patter of her feet carried the young girl into Olivia's arms once again.

"Bye Aunt Liv," Ella kissed her cheek. "You look so beautiful today, I forgot to tell you that when I saw you."

"You too, baby girl, exquisite." Olivia smiled and kissed her again, setting her down. Rachel handed Olivia her coat and leaned against the wall.

"She's right. Green suits you well, wear it more often." Rachel hugged her and smiled. Olivia opened the door and left.

Harvard Lab
3:45pm

"Walter, can I ask you something?" Peter asked from across the lab as he began to comb through the files Broyles sent over on the victim, expecting Olivia to already be there. He flipped through pictures, bank records, even a few student loans she still had, taking it all in, "What time did you get home last night? I thought I heard you around two in the morning." Peter prayed for the answer he wanted to hear.

Walter handed Astrid the woman's liver, sniffing it. Alcohol seemed to seep from it as it was placed in a scale next to the table. "Around seven, "he lied, "there was a terrible snow storm coming up the coast, and I wanted to get back home so I caught an earlier plane. Do not fear, my son, Nina arranged everything for me. Astrid, smell this," he said and pushed the liver in her face, wrinkling her nose as she narrowly avoided it.

"Smells like hand sanitizer," she commented, removing her nose from the abuse of the organ, "or a rotten hangover. One of those two, either way, it's disgusting, thank you Walter, I just lost my appetite," she pressed her lips together and shook the unpleasant smell from her nostrils. "Walter, what exactly is it you're looking for?"

"This woman was possibly strangled, and yet there are no visible signs of it. Hyoid bone is intact, and there is no organ ischemia. Look, her heart," he pulled it from her chest as it made a sucking sound as he plucked it, causing Astrid to gag; "the tissue is still a pale red, no discoloration from hypoxemia. Same with her lungs, there are no visible signs of damage that would come with a strangulation of any sorts, hands, feet, just a blue line across her neck," he turned, "I once read of someone strangling someone using a fallopian tube of an elephant."

The doors opened as Olivia walked in and stopped in her tracks, unfortunately catching the last part of Walter's sentence. "An elephant's," she paused, and shook her head and threw her hands up. "Forget it, I don't what to know." She bounced down the stairs and removed her coat and placed it on the chair.

Astrid smiled, "Olivia, you look nice today, I can't remember the last time I saw you in a bit of color."

Olivia grinned, "Only clean shirt I had," she leaned towards Astrid, "have we found anything?"

"Walter is still playing jigsaw puzzle with the organs, but, if I speak Walter correctly, it doesn't look like strangulation was the means of death." Peter said while bringing the files he received closer to the two women. "Which also raises the question of who the hell is Veronica Marshall? She's got bank accounts all over the nation. Seattle, Los Angeles, even some little town in Kansas I'm not sure even exists."

Astrid flipped through more papers in her files. "She's been in and out of rehab a lot too, according to this, cocaine use." She looked at Olivia and Peter, "That would certainly explain all the bruises and damage to the veins." Olivia's phone rang, as it always seemed to do when they were making progress. She stepped away, leaving Peter and Astrid to dig through the paperwork even more.

Astrid couldn't help but stare at Peter, there was something on his mind, and she saw it on the look he gave Olivia when she entered. "So, what happened, between you and Olivia? I can see it in the way you looked at her, Pete."

Peter turned to her, "Nothing, we just had a few drinks last night and talked. Nothing happened." Astrid saw right through his little lie, bringing a smile to her face.

"That was Broyles, I need to head back to the office," she announced and hung up the phone, making her way back to Peter and Astrid. "Call me if anything else comes up?"

Astrid nodded. Olivia turned on her heel and headed up the stairs. Astrid made eye contact with Peter, who a second later was running up the stairs after Olivia. The lab assistant smiled to herself and giggled. The thought of Peter and Olivia together had made her quite happy. They fit. Her professionalism, his criminal past made for a great love story, her favorite genre of life.

"Yes, they did," Walter said, reading the expression on her face, a smile on his as well. Astrid glanced at him and chuckled and began to flip through more pagers.

In the hallway, Peter half ran, half walked, eager to catch up with her. "Olivia," he called as she caught up with her and placed a hand on her shoulder as she turned around. "Listen, about last night-"

"My place, nine o'clock." She said abruptly, surprising Peter, a newfound glimmer in her eyes. Without another word she left the building and opened her car door, picked up her phone and drove away, leaving Peter rooted to the ground in both astonishment and confusion. What had just happened, he was unsure of. He wanted to talk to her, wanted to make sure this awkwardness between them could go away again. To make sure she wasn't having second thoughts, regrets, or anything that seems to happen after what seemed to be a one night stand.

"Nine, then," he said and finally turned and entered the building, his mind twisting about what had just happened, and what would be happening later. It was so unlike her, but in exchange it brought a smile to his face. Maybe she finally was turning around. Maybe it really was because of him.

She drew in a deep breath as the knock came at her door, making Olivia jump slightly. She had been waiting for Peter to come after she left the lab, the conversation she wanted to have running through her head all day. Rachel had talked some sense into her to just tell Peter what was on her mind, to open her heart to him and let him know exactly what made her be, well, her. What Rachel told her wasn't what she expected it hear. Rachel had confidence in her, which ultimately made Olivia nervous.

She gulped down the last few sips of her drink; the stinging, sweet liquid giving her a last minute boost in confidence to get everything off her chest; to give Peter some insight as to what made her tick. Her likes, dislikes, everything little thing that got her excited, happy. Her favorite movie. Actor. Italian cuisine. Book. Which side of the bed she preferred. Temperature of her shower. Why she couldn't bear to part from her shampoo scent, the same one she's used for years. Why she preferred the beach to the snow. She'd mention the whiskey, but she was sure by now he had already known her opinion on that.

With encouragement, and quite possibly a death threat from Rachel for not answering his knock, she stood and walked to the door. Taking in a final breath she opened it to see Peter standing on the other side, a smile on his face.

"Hey there," he said smoothly.

"Hi Peter." She breathed. "We need to talk." As he walked past he caught her green eyes with his, the electric spark between them ignited, making Olivia's hand tremble. Without another word she stepped aside and he entered, moving past her like a breath of wind, taking all words away from her as she mustered all the strength she could find and slowly, quietly, closed the door.