2. Longing to Be Held

Olivia woke well into the evening of the next day, tucked into the bed and fully clothed. Confused she followed the smell of soup, pumpkin maybe?

Peter looked awkwardly at her.

"Morning?" she asked. Was something wrong? Peter was flushed, looking embarrassed.

"You . . . You fell asleep in the shower. I dressed you the best I could without looking." Peter knew this was a lie. He had tried to keep his eyes on the ceiling as he dried her off and dressed her. But he found himself stroking her skin, so soft and warm. More then once, had he sneaked a look at her naked body. He managed to dress her in his MIT t-shirt. Knowing she would probably kill him, he didn't tell her about the (very intentional) touching and looking.

"Thank you." she replied sweetly.

The two ate in silence, and after several minutes, Olivia realized how silent it was.

"Where's Walter?"

"Astrid picked him up early this morning."

Olivia looked at him confused.

"He wanted to get more ingredients for his 'mystery' cocktail. He cleaned out just about everything." Peter said this as if it was a common practice. Olivia laughed.

"Are you alright? Do you want to tell me what happened?" Peter asked as he collected their empty plates.

Olivia sipped quietly at her glass of water. After several silent minutes she finally spoke.

"There was no card. Not this year. He was sitting on the couch. Waiting for me when I got home." she didn't meet his gaze, keeping her focus on the swirling of the water. "He found my gun and we kinda wrestled for it. And then I shot him." she said plainly. There was no emotion in her eyes. Her face blank, unmoving. She finished her glass of water and walked to the sink.

"He won't die. He'll walk right out of the hospital and disappear again. He'll survive just to taunt me every year on my birthday." tears started to form, but she took a breath, pushing them away. Peter walked so he faced her.

"Olivia." He pulled her into a tight hug. She nuzzled her face into his chest. He held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair. She shook slightly in his arms, feeling her barriers fall once more. She would have to fix them, should couldn't keep going on crying every time she thought of her father. But at the moment she liked how . . . Right, this felt. Being held in Peter Bishop's arms.

"You can cry. You're safe here with me." but she was one step ahead of him.

The tears that had been fighting desperately to get out were pouring down her cheeks, wetting his shirt. He stroked her hair as she cried.

They stayed in their embrace for a long while. Olivia had closed her eyes and was on the verge of sleep. Both rocking slowly backwards and forwards.

Neither had heard the front door opening or Astrid and Walter entering.

"Hey, is . . . Is everything alright?" Astrid asked, placing two plastic shopping bags on the bench top.

Olivia didn't answer.

"I think she's asleep. She's still scared. She won't admit it but it's there, the fear of her father."

"Well, I can take Walter out again, if you two want to be alone?" Astrid offered, despite it being nearly 6:30.

"Don't worry. I'll put in bed, she needs the rest." he said, walking down the hallway.

Again, he shut the door, blocking out Walter's cries of success as he mixed another ingredient, and Astrid's disapproval and groans as Walter undoubtedly made a bigger mess then that of the previous night.

He placed her on her bed, tucking her in again. He was about to let go of her hand and leave when she stirred in her sleep, pulling him back.

"Don't leave. Please." she said sleepily, grabbing his hand.

Peter slipped under the covers, wrapping his arm around Olivia's sleeping figure. She snuggled into him, breathing calmly.

Soon it felt like it was just them. There was no one else, no one else in the world.