Recovery:

A/N: This is right after Liv's kidnapping, when she returned to her apartment. In this scenario, Fitz didn't go to war for her, and they are on good terms. Please R&R!

"Do you need anything? Should I stay tonight?" Jake was walking around in her kitchen, opening her cabinet doors, looking beseechingly at her. Olivia shook her head. "No, Jake, I'm good. I'm fine. You can leave now." "Liv-" "You can leave." She steered him towards the door and then slammed it in his face right as he stepped out, turning all the locks that Huck had installed. She knew that she was perfectly safe now, but there was still that feeling of terror at the back of her brain, and she instinctively reached for the gun that she now had, courtesy of Huck.

Olivia walked back to the kitchen, and just as she was pouring herself some wine, there was a knock on the door. She jumped, nearly spilling the wine all over the floor, and then set the glass down with shaky hands, slowly stepping to the door and looking through the peephole. Her eyes met a pair of crystal-blue ones, and it was like she had taken a breath of fresh air. She couldn't undo the locks fast enough, and when she did, she wrenched open the door and pulled him into her apartment. Fitz. Her haven. Everything was okay when he was there.

For a moment, they stood there, surveying each other, and then Olivia quickly shut the door. Fitz eyed the plethora of locks adorning the door as she did so, but made no comment on it. "Hi," he said instead. "Hi." That one word that Olivia hadn't said in so long to him, to anyone. "I missed you," she said, and the slight tension between them broke. She stepped into his arms, relishing his warmth and solidness after weeks of being in a completely alien environment.

"I missed you too," he replied, gently moving them towards the couch. Olivia sat down heavily, still wearing the shirt that Ian had issued her. The coarse, grey fabric was scratchy against her skin, and perhaps Fitz noticed her discomfort, because he looked down at her. "You want to clean up?" he asked gently. Olivia nodded against his shoulder. "I want a shower."

"Okay. Sure. You can do anything you want now. Anything at all," Fitz said in reply, and Olivia was hit with the realization that she could do anything now. She was home. "Okay?" Fitz asked. "Okay," she echoed quietly, and reluctantly got up.

She walked down the hall to the bathroom, and quickly stripped off her clothes, throwing them carelessly into the trash. "Are you going to be okay?" Fitz asked her. Olivia hesitated. "Can you stay?" For a moment, Fitz was speechless as he took in her vulnerability. Then: "Okay. Definitely. Of course." Olivia turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, turning her face up towards the water.

Fitz stepped in after her, stripping off his clothes, and as she revelled in the water, started to lather shampoo into her hair, separating her curls as he'd once seen her do. After a while, she started to do it herself, and Fitz stood behind her, tracing circles across her shoulders.

Once she'd stepped out of the shower, Olivia did feel marginally better, more like herself again. She put on some pajamas and then went down to the kitchen to get more wine, only to have Fitz gently take the bottle out of her hand. "You need to eat some food," he said, searching through her cabinets and refrigerator. All he found was two other bottles of wine and a box of popcorn, and he turned to her, nonplussed.

"Where's all your food?" he asked, and Olivia felt a sense of deja vu as she remembered Leo Bergen once rifling through her fridge and obnoxiously asking the same thing. "Guess it's take-out?" she suggested, and ten minutes later, Fitz was giving an awed teenaged boy a handsome tip as he took the box of food from his hands.

"This is just like old times," he murmured to Olivia, as they sat on the couch, making makeshift plates out of the containers. And it was; Olivia had lost count of the times they'd done this before, whether for work or just spending time together. She set her food onto the coffee table, and sighed, curling up against Fitz.

She noticed that he'd covered up the wine stain with his jacket, and was grateful that she didn't have to stare at it, instead playing with Fitz's tie, focusing on the color, the pattern. She didn't even notice that she was nearly asleep until Fitz shifted slightly to give her a better resting place. All of a sudden, she looked up. "I'm going to dream about it," she whispered. "No, I'll protect you," Fitz replied instantly. "You won't, with me here."

Olivia didn't question his logic, and laid down again. Surprisingly, Fitz was right; she didn't dream about her kidnapping that night. Perhaps she subconsciously was aware of his presence, or maybe she was too exhausted to dream. Either way, she woke in the morning to the sun on her face, and looked up to watch Fitz's chest rising and falling methodically.

She looked at the gun on the coffee table and knew that there was a long way to go before she returned to the person she once was. But then she returned her gaze to Fitz, and realized that the road to recovery might not be too hard if he was always there by her side.

Fin