The Next Week

"Walter, how many more boxes are in here?" Astrid pushed a curl out of her face and surveyed Walter's office/bedroom.

"Only a few more, Aster," Walter tugged on a Red Vine as he rifled through a box of papers. "Hmm, don't need these, I imagine."

Astrid walked over the table Walter was using and picked up some of the papers he'd pulled from the box. "Walter, these look like old bank statements… Why don't you let me go through these for you?"

"Of course, m'dear. You'll find out what a poor old man I truly am," he chuckled as he turned his attention to the next box.

ooo

Peter stepped back to survey his work. The tarps had been removed from all the furniture and were piled in a heap near the entryway. Everything had been dusted, waxed, or washed, and the house smelled of lemon Pledge and old books. Peter had emptied the attic and the basement, filling the bookcases and shelves with Walter's books and albums. Boxes of photographs from the attic were sitting in the living room, awaiting Walter's perusal.

On the second floor, the bedrooms had fresh linens on all the beds and the towels were new. Peter rarely went upstairs , even though he had lived in the house for several months now; when he was there, he slept on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Sleeping upstairs brought back too many memories; painful memories when he was the only one who seemed to remember them.

The kitchen gleamed and sunlight poured through the kitchen window. A few appliances sat on the kitchen island; Peter planned to take them to the lab for repair. Next to them sat a box of files and rolled up schematics – Peter's notes on The Machine. As much as he'd like to burn them all and forget he'd ever seen the damn thing, a nagging voice in the back of his head told him they weren't through with it yet.

Walter wasn't moving in for a few more days, but Peter and Astrid had agreed to split the responsibilities: Peter would ready the house, since he was already there and certainly was more familiar with it; Astrid would tackle the chore of helping Walter pack his belongings at the lab. Peter still felt he had the better end of the deal; he knew what a packrat Walter could be.

Peter strolled through the rooms, making mental notes on his remaining tasks, when he heard a tentative knock on the door and Olivia's voice.

"Peter? Are you here?"

He rushed to the entryway. "Olivia? What's wrong?"

He heard Olivia sighing in frustration. "Peter. Everything's fine." She looked around, then linked her arm through his. "You've been busy."

"I have been," he agreed, and bent his head to kiss her. "Want the grand tour?"

"Of course! Are you putting Walter's bed downstairs again?" She laughed as they walked through the rooms.

"I thought I'd let him make that decision. He may want to be upstairs this time around."

"You've been so good for him, Peter. I never thought I'd see the day that he'd WANT to leave the lab." Olivia leaned into Peter and squeezed his arm.

"Well, better sooner than later. I'd like to get him settled in now, in case I need to spend more time with him here until he gets comfortable."

Olivia smiled. Peter's affection for the old man was obvious in his voice, and in the work he'd done to prepare the house for him.

As she walked into the kitchen, she noticed a pile of childproofing gadgets on the counter. Most had been opened and installed, judging by the empty packaging, but a few outlet covers and cabinet locks remained. "Peter, don't you think it's a little early for these?"

He laughed. "Oh, those aren't for the peanut. They're for Walter."

At Olivia's dubious expression, he replied, "It's worth it. I've been here before, remember?"

She laughed as she moved through the kitchen. "I guess you would know better than any of us."

She stopped in front of the box of schematics, running her hands over the rolled up tubes. She didn't say anything, but she bit her lip the way she always did when she was unsure about something.

Peter didn't want to break her cheerful mood, so he took her hand and tugged her over to the kitchen sink. "Look at that backyard. We can put a little garden out there, and a picnic table… maybe even a swing."

"For Walter?"

"Well, you know how he likes Newtonian mechanics," Peter deadpanned. As a smile crept across Olivia's face, he circled his arms around her and nuzzled her nose with his. "Now, unless you came over to inspect my housecleaning skills, you must have something on your mind." He looked at her expectantly.

"Actually, I did. I'm going to a yoga class and wanted to let you know so you wouldn't be wondering where I was if you called and I didn't answer."

Before Peter could speak, she put a finger to his lips. "And, yes, I've talked to Dr. Evans, and she thought it was perfectly fine."

He opened his mouth, and she pressed her finger against his lips again. "It's a yoga class for pregnant women, and she ok'd every pose they use in the class. She even emailed me a list. And I've done yoga before."

Peter kissed the tips of Olivia's finger, then her forehead. "I was just going to say that yoga is very good for pregnant women. Lots of benefits, and it's low impact exercise."

"And once she told me I couldn't run anymore, she had to give me something in its place."

At Peter's questioning look, Olivia continued. "It's not running per se, but running as long and as hard as I like…" She shook her head ruefully. "And you know me, I can't do anything – "

"Halfway," they said together, then laughed.

Peter leaned his forehead against hers and said softly, "You are an amazing woman, Olivia Dunham. I've never seen anyone who could do the things that you do." They shared another kiss, then stood quietly, enjoying the sunshine streaming through the windows.

Too soon for Peter's liking, Olivia squeezed his biceps. "I'd better be going. I have to stop at the apartment to pick up my yoga things."

Peter leaned in for one more kiss. "Call me if you need anything. I should be there shortly, and I'll start dinner."

ooo

A week later…

"I have a surprise for you," Peter said as he greeted Olivia at the door. "Well, two, actually."

Olivia sniffed as she walked in. No tantalizing aromas were wafting from the kitchen, so it wasn't dinner, and she said as much.

"No, not dinner. I have spinach salad, and I'll make the bacon dressing when we're ready to eat." Peter pulled her into a loose embrace and kissed her. "I know you missed your yoga class the last few days… so I thought I would put one together for you."

Olivia's eyebrows arched in surprise. "You do yoga?"

"Mm-hmm. Used to teach classes at a fancy spa in Italy," Peter replied as he opened his laptop. "So… class first or dinner first?"

She eyed him dubiously. "Yogis wear jeans and t-shirts these days?"

Peter laughed and tugged her by her hand towards the bedroom. "C'mon, I'll help you change for class," he said in a Groucho Marx voice.

A few minutes later, Olivia, in yoga pants and a loose t-shirt, was spreading two mats in the open space in her living room. Peter, in boxer briefs and his favorite faded blue t-shirt, was pulling up a playlist on his laptop.

"So…. How are we going to do this?" Olivia was intrigued by the idea of Peter as a yoga instructor.

"Well, some people teach by example. I, on the other hand," Peter walked behind Olivia, "prefer a more 'hands on' approach for my private lessons." He smirked as he stood close behind her and ran his hands down her arms.

"Let's start with a sun salutation. You probably know these poses already, but if you hold on to my wrists," Peter nodded approvingly as Olivia clasped his wrists, "we can move together."

Peter stretched their arms straight above their heads. He was just tall enough for Olivia to follow his movements without his arms and body interfering with hers.

"We'll do the first few poses a few times to get warmed up," he murmured into her ear. "Breathe in."

He leaned back and Olivia leaned with him. His legs were planted firmly and far enough apart that they were still stable. "Breathe out," he said as they held the arch.

"Breathe in." They moved back into a mountain pose, arms high above their heads. Olivia turned her head slightly to look at Peter. The next pose was hands flat on the floor.

"Breathe out." Peter shadowed Olivia as her body gracefully curved into a 'U' shape. His hands dwarfed her smaller ones as he flattened them to the floor on either side of hers. "And hold…"

"Now…. right leg back." Peter supported his weight to allow Olivia enough room to move to the next pose. "Breathe in."

"Extend your body… breathe out." Peter leaned into the pose and pressed his body against Olivia's. "See, isn't this more fun than a video?"

Olivia moved into the next pose, a Downward Dog, pushing against Peter's body. "Did you teach all your students like this? And in your boxers?"

Peter laughed. In this pose, the temptation was just too much for him and he rubbed against Olivia. "Only the ones that paid well. And if they paid really well, I taught them shirtless."

Olivia giggled at the thought, and her laugh was infectious. Soon, they were in a heap of tangled limbs on the floor. As they untangled themselves, Olivia ended up sitting in Peter's lap, facing him with her legs bent and feet flat on the floor beside his hips.

"I think I need to know a little more about your qualifications before we go any further." She tried to maintain a stern expression.

Peter stretched his arms around Olivia to support her back, and bent his legs in the same position as hers. "Well, it was a lovely little place in Tuscany, Terme di Saturnia. A VERY exclusive spa that just happened to need a yoga teacher."

"And Peter Bishop just happened to be in the neighborhood." Olivia looked skeptical.

"Actually, Peter Bishop was in a hurry to get out of Napoli," he admitted with a sheepish look, "but Pietro Cardinale was a WELL qualified yoga instructor, especially for the ladies 'of a certain age' that frequented the spa." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Peter! You were a gigolo?" Olivia looked aghast.

Peter looked astonished. "No, no, are you kidding? Pietro was a good looking sort, but not THAT good looking." He smirked. "And no, I didn't teach classes in my boxers… Pietro wore white… loose white cotton pants and a shirt. Sometimes the shirt was more unbuttoned than others…" He looked at her impishly.

"Pietro, hmm?" Olivia put her hands on Peter's shoulders and settled herself more comfortably. "Tell me more."

"Well, I was doing a little business in Napoli, and my, er, clients, decided they wanted to be a bit more involved than we'd originally agreed upon."

Olivia was watching Peter's face intently. She always enjoyed these little glimpses into his past, before Iraq, before Boston, but she never pushed him to talk about it.

He looked at her before continuing. "I DO have immunity, right? Statute of limitations and all that?"

Olivia shrugged. "Out of my jurisdiction, I'm afraid. You'll just have to take your chances."

He shrugged. "Quel ch'è fatto, è fatto."

At Olivia's blank stare, he translated. "What's done is done," he murmured.

"So, how did Pietro come to be a yoga master?"

Peter chattered away in Italian, waving his hands grandly. Olivia could pick out a few words… "maharishi, Mumbai, kundalini…." She continued to look at Peter skeptically.

"Seriously? A few YouTube videos, a few websites…"

She shook her head, unable to keep a smile from creeping across her face.

"And if someone came to class that knew more than I did…. I encouraged them to lead the class with me."

"Peter… sorry, Pietro," she smirked, "How long were you able to pull this off?"

He grinned. "Long enough. Enough time for my 'clients' to become distracted with other things, and to put away a few dollars until the next job."

Olivia pulled him to her and leaned her forehead against his. "I think if we're together a hundred years, I will never know everything you've done."

"Probably a good thing. You're still the law." Peter nuzzled her face. "I will tell you about something that I actually DID study, while I was in Singapore."

She relaxed in his arms. "Go on."

"Oh, no… You have to earn another story." Peter leaned back and held his hands out to pull Olivia to her feet.

ooo

By the time they'd completed the Sun Salutation poses and a few other stretches, in a more traditional side-by-side arrangement, they both were covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

Olivia folded her legs into a Lotus pose. "You actually do know what you're doing."

Peter feigned a hurt expression. "I picked up a few things." He picked up his laptop from the table nearby, and collapsed gracefully next to her. "I did a few routines for you at various stages. Once you're a little bigger, some of the poses will be more difficult." His fingers flew over the keyboard as he brought up a series of videos labeled by week – Week 12, Week 15, Week 20, Week 30… "And pretty soon, you'll want to avoid the floor work altogether, it won't be comfortable and it could reduce the blood flow to the peanut."

Olivia was shaking her head, but smiling. "Peter, did you talk to Dr. Evans? How did – "

"Oh, I took the list she gave you, and did a little research… the power of the internets, you know?"

"Peter, really…." Olivia started a video. Soothing acoustic guitar played in the background. Peter appeared on screen in a pair of drawstring pants, barefoot and shirtless. As he started the poses, he described each move in a calm, quiet voice.

As the video continued to play, Olivia glanced at Peter, who was watching her intently.

"Well? What do you think? "

She smiled and reached for his hand. "I think I have the best looking yoga instructor outside of Tuscany." She leaned over and kissed him. "Now what did you study in Singapore?"

Peter smiled wickedly. "It's another form of yoga and meditation…. Tantra. You ever heard of it?"

Olivia's forehead wrinkled. "Isn't that the Kama Sutra?"

"Well… not exactly, although the Kama Sutra discusses tantric sex extensively. Come to think of it, that might be really good for you in the third trimester…."

She swatted Peter, then leaned against him. "You worry too much. I'm not the first woman that's ever been pregnant."

A shadow fell over Peter's face, but he tried to hide it by kissing Olivia's neck. "So…. would you like another lesson, or do you want to wait til after dinner?"

She leaned into him and said, "Now, please. Do I need to take off my clothes for this?" She eyed Peter's now damp t-shirt and smiled. "Or maybe you should take yours off instead."

Peter looked thoughtful. "We could probably jump in at the advanced level, but let's start at the beginning… just for fun.'

Olivia looked at him sideways and smirked. "I might need to know a little more about your course of study first."

Peter was moving to face her and grasped her thighs, pulling her towards him. "Patience, padawan. All in good time."

He pulled her close, putting her legs over his, and bending his knees as well. He placed her hand over his heart, and put his in the same place on her chest. "Lots of people think tantric sex is just Sting doing it for hours and hours in complicated positions," he murmured, looking intently at Olivia, "but it's really just slowing down, appreciating your lover in every way, enjoying the journey instead of rushing to the destination."

Olivia smiled as he leaned his forehead against hers. His other hand rested gently on her hip.

"Feel my heart. Listen to my breathing." He kissed her forehead and leaned back just far enough to gaze into her eyes. "Look into my eyes, and try to clear your mind of everything but just the two of us."

Olivia took a deep breath, and concentrated on Peter's heartbeat beneath her fingertips. As she focused on his deep blue eyes, she fought against the worries crowding her mind – the baby, the Cortexiphan, closing the Bridge, dealing with Bell…

Peter rubbed his thumb gently across her forehead. "You're thinking too hard about not thinking." He gave her a reassuring smile. "It's the hardest part to learn."

He placed his other hand over hers on his chest. "Concentrate on my heartbeat. See if you can focus just on that one thing."

As she looked at Peter, Olivia noticed the crinkles around his eyes as he smiled. She felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the solid thump of his heart. Without effort, her own breathing fell into a rhythm with his and she felt the tension of a few minutes ago leaving her body.

Peter gently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. He could see her visibly relaxing. Time for my own concentration… As he gazed into her olive eyes, his mind drifted over the past few years – the realization early on that this woman was unique, finally admitting that his attraction to her was more than just a casual flirtation. The past four years had been implausible, would be unbelievable to anyone outside their coterie, and yet Olivia had been his reality, and he hers, through situations that would've broken anyone else, and nearly broke them as well.

Remembering his training, he brought his mind back to the moment… the feel of Olivia's hand over his heart, the softness of her hand under his. The warmth of her body under his own hand and the gentle beat of her heart made him want to wrap his arms around her and carry her off to bed, but he wanted to find ways they could strengthen their connection in addition to sex. He believed Olivia, and her doctor, but he couldn't eliminate the worry that seemed to be permanently camped in the back of his mind.

"Now who's worrying?" Olivia's soft voice interrupted the anxiety that he felt building in his chest. She cupped his cheek in her free hand and leaned into him. "I want some of that mind-blowing sex that everybody keeps talking about," she teased.

"Can't have my star pupil feeling unsatisfied," he chuckled as he pulled her body closer. "We'll skip to an advanced lesson." He traced her back lightly, ending at the base of her spine. "Muladhara," he whispered, nibbling on her collarbone. As his fingers moved slowly up her back, he named each chakra in turn. "Swadhisthana… Manipura… Anhata…" His lips traced a path from her collarbone to her breast. He mouthed her nipple through the thin t-shirt until her breathing hitched and she wove her fingers through his hair.

"Vishuddha," he breathed as he kissed his way back to her neck, and found the spot just under her ear that seemed to melt even her most aloof, professional demeanor. As he sucked gently on THAT spot, Olivia moaned and brought her body even closer. As she rocked against him, his arousal was swift and obvious.

"You're skipping ahead…" he mumbled into her hair, loving the feeling of her warm body nestled against him.

"I have a good teacher… he inspires me," she whispered.

Peter kissed her forehead. "Ajna." And then the top of her head. "Sahasrara." He felt Olivia's breath on his neck, and her gentle kisses tracing his jaw.

"Hope you were paying attention, there'll be a quiz later."

She bit her lower lip in concentration, then cupped his face in her hands and tilted his head down. As she kissed his crown, she repeated each chakra with perfect pronunciation. She kissed the center of his forehead, then tugged his t-shirt over his head. She continued down his body, nuzzling his neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss over his heart (and taking a slight detour to lap at his nipples, tiny points nestled in the soft hair on his chest), swirling her tongue in his navel, then tugging at the top of his boxers.

Peter brought her face up to his. "I think you're well on your way to mastering this topic," he mumbled into her neck. He embraced her and pulled her closer. She locked her legs around him and rocked against his cock; feeling his arousal increased her own.

He slipped his hands into her yoga pants and cupped her ass. "Class dismissed, Ms. Dunham," he murmured as he began to slip them off. In moments, there was a small pile of clothes beside the yoga mats and Olivia was back in his lap. Peter wrapped his arms around her again and gently rocked them back and forth. His cock was buried deep in her, and each movement made her gasp just a little. Supporting her in his embrace, Peter leaned back and looked into her eyes. He saw the desire he felt reflected in her olive eyes. He kept his gaze fixed on hers as they moved together for what seemed like hours… or minutes so intense that time stopped for them.

One of her arms curved around his neck, her fingers tangled in the curls at the back of his head. With the other, she traced the features of his face as if committing them to memory – his eyebrows, his cheeks, his lips, her touch so light he might've imagined it.

"Tell me," she whispered.

"I love you," he replied, his gaze never wavering. "I'll always love you."

And when she came, her entire body shuddered and her fingers twisted in his hair, and she told him later it was like falling off a cliff in slow motion, on a cloud sinking gently back to earth.

And he met her halfway down and fell with her, feeling like it would never end, hoping it never would.