and that last episode makes me sad. but yet the last two episodes have made me sad. i fear the worse, he will end up with alternate and we will be left to watch olivia go insane. Anyway here is chapter four since i told you i couldn't leave you haning. If you get bored of this sotry, telll me because in all honest i have no idea where this is going at all.
M obvious.
i own nothing except the typos.
She always has flashes every time he touches her. Her memory flashes images of them together, pictures painted in beautiful detail with painstaking accuracy that it frightens her and she feels violently ill. Since she came home she's shied away from him with obvious discomfort, unable to hold down her lunch when he comes near. She can't stomach the images. She can't handle the ideas. She just wants to scrub him away with cyanide and an acid solution until he's nothing but this carnage puddle of red blood and half-eaten organs. She just wants him gone, forever. She can't handle his touch.
But he is dying now and she holds herself together as he grips her hand.
He probably thinks of her as he holds her hand, and she just looks away from him. She was better, always better and it wasn't fair because they never had that chance and she won't ever have that chance. She doesn't care anymore. She won't care anymore. She knew, somewhere inside her, that she had taken over everything and that he really fell in love with her and that now Olivia was back, she was a faulty replacement. Damaged. Always damaged. She won't be more than a damaged puddle full of things that she and him never did because he and her did them together. It was unfair, it was cruel, but that was how her life had always been, and it will always be.
So if he mumbles her name in this hospital bed she won't let it touch her heart because he's thinking of her.
So this is it, the end. Walter is with Astrid outside and in the private lobby they have, crying loudly, Nina is out there too, somewhere with them and Olivia is here with the doctor, because Peter has refused to release her hand. He doesn't know it's her consciously, but she is there and cannot move from his grip. Everyone is losing it, but she is calm and collected and sure. His death won't be like John's death, she figures, because he's lying in a hospital bed and not in her arms.
And John loved her. Peter did not.
The doctor says something about brain damage and internal bleeding and something else but Olivia doesn't hear. She knows what it means. It means he's going to die right there and that he won't wake up from it. There will be no universal battle or universe destroying machines now. Peter will no longer have to worry about fireballs from his eyes and sleek black metals that will carry his fate. Instead he will die here in the hospital bed surrounded by family and friends.
Fate will be kind to him. Sometimes Olivia hopes it will be just as kind to her when her death comes.
It's the worst news she could have possibly been saddled with. He was going to live. And Olivia just wanted to explode in anger. It was not fair there was nothing fair about this. The news caused her to get up in a sudden rage and storm from the private lobby and down the hall. She could see the golden gate bridge from the windows and the fog rolling in to cover the city in darkness but she didn't care. Peter was going to live. This isn't okay. It will never be okay.
Nina chases after her, a sharp 'Miss Dunham' falling from her lips as spoken first, then yelled as she stops at the elevator. Olivia presses the button again and again and Nina is gaining ground and Olivia is out of air. She's dizzy, so dizzy and she can't feel anything but the needles that were her tears as she slid down the stainless steel to the sterile floor that was the ICU. Nina caught up with her and stood above her and although Olivia couldn't see her face, she knew exactly what look she was giving her.
People give her looks as they pass her. The elevator dings open but no one gets in, only a doctor gets out. He looks at her crumpled form and then up and Nina but doesn't say anything. Olivia is not hysterically sobbing or sobbing at all, but just sitting there on the sterile, uncaring floor and staring at her hands. They are shaking and shaking violently because she wasn't able to out run her own emotions. She tried but couldn't. Everything has caught up to her and she has gone completely cold and numb and she likes feeling. She feels mechanical, like a machine. It feels better than being human. But it takes a brief shoulder tap to bring her down to her reality, to tell her she's still human and Nina reminds her that Peter should have died. He should be dead.
"Peter should have died."
She didn't go in the room. She wouldn't. After time and time of Walter telling her that he was asking, demanding her, she still refused to go in. Nina tried. Astrid tried. But she stood on the outside of the room with a coffee in her hand, slept in the hallway and sat against the wall when the nightmares came. She wouldn't see him. He was supposed to be dead. It wasn't until she was jolted awake in the middle of the night by his voice that she would acknowledge he was even there.
"Olivia," his voice would roar for her, "Olivia!"
His deep throaty threatening tone made her body heat and flush and he screamed out for her, hollered for her, adding on "I know you can here me" and "I don't think you are sleeping's" occasionally. He would call out for her until he coughed and spluttered into silence. Sometimes his heart monitor would beep insanely as he cried out, her name sounding pained on his lips. But he can call all he wants. She will not see him. She will not let him in.
She herself doesn't understand it, as she pukes up her coffee for the third time that day, but she won't see him. If she could stop retching for a second she'll be able to faintly hear him crying out for her, her name loud and thunderous. Even the doctors beg her to see him, beg her to easy the yelling. But she can't. She psychically can't walk into his room. She has tried, standing outside as he cried for her, his voice loud and angry, her own feelings a raging sea of cruelty that makes her want to bleed. Once she has stopped vomiting she looks up and stares in the mirror.
"Olivia!"
"Olivia!"
"Olivia!"
She was no good at the hospital, but she was no good at the precinct either. Instead of looking for the ones that attacked him, she spent her time in the morgue with the man he killed. It was eerie, looking at the man on the slab. His eyes were green, a beautiful emerald green and his face was round and shadowed with dark stubble, the same color as his short curly hair. It was eerie not because he had murdered someone successfully, but because he murdered this man. This man looked like Peter more than she could ever know. Which is probably what compelled her to reach out and touch his hair, to feel it.
She never got to touch Peter. Maybe this dead man would be his replacement.
She pulled her hand away from the man and mulled around the office, looking at unforgiving stainless steel faucets and hoses, tools and jars and platters and plates. Her eyes raked over the body and the angry red stitches that sewed him together. A single bullet to the middle of the head-that was his choice. The man had no chance to fight back. Perhaps he deserved it. Perhaps there was some fucking metaphorical shit behind murdering a man so similar to himself. But Olivia didn't want to know. Olivia didn't want to care. But there was the problem. She would always know and she will always care. She had so many questions.
Why here? Why now? Why leave her? She deserved, she knew more than that was true, but why? She did exactly what she knew she should, she moved on. It was very clear he would miss her more than he would care for Olivia. She could cry and pity herself and mourn his loss, but that would do no good. She would not let that happen. And yet this happened. It was all because she moved on. What gave him the right to nearly kill himself because he of her? What could the motive possibly be?
It should be him on this slab, not this look alike. Maybe then, and only then would she understand his motives. Then and only then would she understand what he did was for her. He flew here to prove to himself that she was the one he wanted and not the other her. He was at the hospital calling out her fucking name because he wants her. Here, in the silent concrete walls his cries would be silent. Her name would be a whisper. But he isn't here, he is there and she must face exactly what he has done. She must come to terms with the fact he did this for her and that his stupidity is the reason her head spins and her body is weak. Somehow he is to blame for her illness. It the same to say she is to blame for his illness.
Peter should have died again. Then there would be no illness. There would be no fault. If Peter Bishop had died now, there would be no destruction of himself, of Walter, of Astrid, of Olivia and the fucking universe.
Instead he lives and she must come to terms with the fact he wants her but she no longer wants him.
i know not alot of sections, but alot of chapter i think. next up is Peter, obvs. maybe there will be some walter, nina and (my personal favorite) Brandon.
