Part 4:

***

It was the first time she didn't mind being squished in the middle seat of the airplane. Maybe it was because Peter wasn't sitting beside her. He was several rows up, sitting in a center seat as well. That's what they got for booking their flight home last minute. Choices were limited. They were lucky to get the flight at all.

She knew she couldn't avoid what had happened forever. In fact, the point being she liked it, she didn't want to forget it. It terrified her though, the feelings that surfaced. They'd been coming for awhile, she'd done her best fighting it back, refusing and denying any hint of it but eventually she knew he'd break through the walls she'd put up around her heart.

Except this was not how she imagined it. Honestly she thought he would have kissed her after she woke up, having nearly died—or at worst after a terrible case, like when Charlie had been killed by her hand. She never expected a kiss to be one of the last things and an orgasm to be the first. She tried not to think about it but she could see him several rows up, sitting beside two beautiful women. It was hard not to feel jealous even if she had no right to him.

The flight took off and she pulled out her small notebook, glancing at the letters she'd written down from the business cards. So she was supposed to jumble, scramble, solve the puzzle. Her eyes stared at the paper, quickly losing track of time. She hadn't noticed Peter, standing up and walking down the aisle. She failed to notice him standing by her row, watching her intently. The man beside her, got up, headed to the bathroom sensing they knew each other and could use a moment. Peter jumped at the opportunity, taking the seat beside her.

"What are you working on?" He glanced at the notebook.

"Peter?" She glanced over, quickly shutting it, wondering when he'd sat down. "It's nothing. How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to see you trained in thought," he acknowledged. "You know, you're allowed to take a break from work."

"I know. It's not work," Olivia shook her head, giving him a faint smile. "It's just something someone suggested I do, that it might help."

He stared at her, trying to understand what she was talking about. A therapist perhaps? He wasn't aware she was seeing anyone but he also knew it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Of course talking about her experience probably wouldn't help her cause. No, it wasn't a therapist. "Is it helping?" Peter asked trying not to pry too much. It hadn't helped lately.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out," she offered him a weak smile. "You should probably get back to your seat," she nodded seeing the man returning for his.

"Yeah, probably. I'll catch up with you later." Peter sighed standing up heading back to his seat. He was looking forward to sitting with her for the flight back to Boston. He knew there was always a chance it would be a full flight but he really had been hoping there'd be two seats together. Peter chose not to dwell on it, he'd find time to talk with her later.

***

It was a long flight and an even longer drive. Olivia had been the one behind the wheel. She didn't mind the drive, it was the silence in the car that bothered her more than anything. Of course she wasn't helping matters---opening her mouth every so often only to close it. What was she supposed to say?

"Where's the apartment?" She asked him again, her mind still not quite right after all she'd been through. She'd heard the news that he and Walter were sharing an apartment now, no longer a hotel room.

"Make a right at the next block," Peter instructed, leading her through the city towards his new home. "And here we are," he breathed staring up at the high-rise. Pulling up out front she parked the car and stepped out, unlocking the trunk where their bags were buried. He pulled his luggage out, glancing at her, wanting to say something, to acknowledge this morning, that he knew all along. No words came from his lips though. Telling her now, it was the wrong time. She would panic and more than likely close herself off to him. He'd be lucky if she wasn't angry. He needed her to be the one to make the next move. He just had to wait and he wasn't great with sitting around patiently.

"Have a good night, Peter." She breathed feeling his eyes intently locked on hers. She fiddled with the car keys, feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"You too, Livia," he leaned in brushing his lips over her cheek. "Try to get some rest. I know it's not easy but we all need it." He could see the dark circles beneath her eyes and it was clear coming back to Boston put the weight of everything back upon her shoulders. He worried about her, how could he not?

"Yeah, I---" she paused thinking over the right thing to say. "I'll see you at work on Monday." She finally answered.

Peter stared at her, slightly disappointed she hadn't brought the hotel incident up but he wondered now if she ever would. "You want to come up, see the new place?" He gestured behind him at the door. "Walter won't mind. I can put on a pot of coffee---assuming I can find the pot." He smiled weakly, hoping she'd take the bait.

"I would like that," she breathed, "but there's something I wanted to do before the sun goes down." It was already getting late. "Some other time?"

"Yeah, some other time," Peter nodded. "I'll see you on Monday." He wasn't going to push her. Right now it felt like one step forward and two steps back. The cliché had become his life, at least with her.

"Bye, Peter." She breathed giving him a faint smile, walking back to the car, unlocking the door and getting in. She wanted to go upstairs but she couldn't. Aside from the fact she was dreading the conversation that she knew she had to bring up, she also needed to figure things out on her own. It's what she'd always done in the past, it's what she needed to do now.

***

She picked up flowers at a local florist, the same one she'd ordered a bouquet from for the funeral. Carrying them to the grave she placed them down, feeling them fall from her fingers. Her heart was heavy. The sun was still quite high in the sky but the afternoon glow illuminated through the trees. It was a beautiful resting place for Charlie. He shouldn't have been here though. He shouldn't have been dead, and at her hand. Though she knew she had to do it, it still stung.

She wanted to say something but what words could express her sorrow? She felt lost, confused, on a destiny to nowhere.

Finally she walked back to the car. She wasn't ready to leave yet. She reached for the notebook, the one she'd started trying to decipher on the plane. The mysterious phrase but what was it? She started to write but the words didn't make sense. She scratched them out and began again.

It was Charlie. His words. The one's she'd said to Peter in the hotel room. 'You're gonna be fine.' Of course it was but how? It saddened her, her bottom lip jutted out slightly before trembling and then the tears came. The ones she'd been harboring and hiding, not letting anyone see, not even Peter.

She didn't feel fine. She felt a mess.

She didn't know how long she sat in the car. Her eyes burned, her hands still trembled as she turned on the heat. It was getting late. She needed to get home, find herself something for dinner and then what? She'd probably toss and turn. Sleep never seemed to find her in this place, not anymore.

For the first moment in a long time after pouring her soul out to no one but herself, she felt better. She didn't know how it worked, with Sam and the business cards. She didn't ask. She didn't need to know, if this is what she needed to heal, so be it.

She drove back to her apartment, the darkness blanketing the city as she made it back to her home. Once inside she called and ordered a pizza for dinner. Cooking was not at the top of her to do list.

Sitting down on the sofa, she stretched out, letting her eyes close. She could still feel his lips on hers, his body above her, pinning her down. Her heart seemed to speed up at the thought of Peter, his body turning her on. She had to deal with it, but how? She hadn't figured it out but she needed to. He was ruggedly handsome. He wouldn't wait around forever and she'd seen the jealousy streak in her---with Rachel. Though her sister swore to her nothing happened, she still felt anger that it could have. That Peter looked at Rachel in 'that' way. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. That may have been the first time she felt the spark, she wasn't sure though. She tried to settle the feelings. They worked together, it was a bad idea. Besides he could have any woman in the world, he probably just enjoyed the chase---flirting with her, seeing how far she'd let it go. Shifting on the sofa she sighed. Maybe she should return the flirting, see where it leads them? What harm could come from it? She'd already shared a bed with him, shuddered beneath his body as he dreamt of her. It couldn't get any weirder.

Tomorrow. She'd do something about it then. Tonight was her night alone. She'd have dinner, maybe enjoy a nice hot bath and relax. She needed her sleep.