Sorry you didn't get a new chapter last night. I had to reflect on what I wanted in this chapter. There are so many directions I could have gone!

Thanks again to all those who have supported this effort so far by reviewing, alerting, and favoriting. I cherish it all.

I onw nothing, you know.

Olivia finally gets to tell her whole story, and Peter hears it and reflects.

Please review if you'd like another update tomorrow!

The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same-Chapter 7

Peter lay on the uncomfortable sofa framed by the light from the wood stove staring upward for what seemed like forever. Thoughts flitted through his head like snowflakes as he tried to coax his brain into shutting down. Suddenly he heard a loud click and a couple of beeps and knew the power had gone off, as he had anticipated.

He didn't blame Olivia for being upset earlier. It had been four weeks since his life had turned upside down. At first he had memories of the other Olivia flash through his mind several times a day, but now they were fewer and farther between and usually associated with specific things, like showering, beds, certain songs, and Casablanca. Peter sighed. He needed to try harder. To train his thoughts away from what had been and focus on what is, what could be. He knew it didn't take a 190 IQ to know what really needed to happen here. She needed to be able to forgive him, and in order for her to be able to do that, she'd need to be able to pull back and see that they had both been victims of this horrible scam. Was 4 weeks enough time for her to be able to see things less subjectively? He really hoped so, although he knew his broken heart would wait much longer for her to come around if necessary. Much, much longer. There's still a chance for us, he said to himself as his heavy eyelids finally closed.

Peter awakened and sat bolt upright at the loud and sudden 'snap' that sounded like it came from upstairs. He threw the blankets aside and clumsily ran across the room and up the stairs in the dark. He didn't know the second floor landscape well enough in the dark and used his hands to feel his way to the correct door. As he threw it open something smacked right into him and almost knocked him backwards.

"Umph. 'Livia? Are you OK?" he asked her taking a step back and collecting himself, his heart hammering.

"Sorry," she said rubbing her head. "I...had to get out of here. They, they were trying to-"

"Calm down," he told her putting his hands on her shoulders and realizing she wasn't fully awake.

"Calm down. It's OK. Now. That cracking noise. Do you know where you heard it? Was it inside or out?" He reached for the light switch on the wall and cursed himself for forgetting the power had gone out awhile ago.

"I think it was outside the window. I'm pretty sure." She stood there with his hands still on her shoulders trying to take deep calming breaths.

"OK. I'm just going to walk over to the window and see if one of the trees snapped and fell. You wanna stay here?" She shook her head. Peter could barely make out that it was a vertical shake.

"I'll be right back." Peter walked into the small bedroom and cautiously made his way over to the window, feeling with his feet for any cut glass. There was none and he breathed a sigh of relief and felt the window pane with his hands. It was intact and there was no cold air coming in. He looked out for a minute and could make out the outline of something dark and horizontal just outside the window, and the faint smell of pine. He walked back to the dark shape of Olivia.

"It's just a tree. One of the pine trees must've snapped from the weight of the snow just outside your window. Think you can go back to sleep? It's only like 2 o'clock in the morning."

Just then the wind picked up again and howled fiercly making a ghost-like sound.

"I think I'll come downstairs." Olivia walked back into the bedroom and grabbed one of the pillows off the bed. She returned to where she knew Peter was standing. She felt him take her hand in the dark and lead her back down the hallway and then down the stairs.

Olivia pulled her hand from his once they were on the first floor. It was much easier to see there as light flooded from the spacious wood stove. Peter moved away from her and went into the kitchen. She heard the sound of running water as she got settled on the sofa and pulled the blankets over herself. He returned moments later with an aluminum tea kettle that he set on top of the stove. When he turned toward her their eyes met and he held her gaze for a beat.

"Thought we could use some hot chocolate. I found packets of it in the cupboards last night."

"The power's out." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes, and it might be out for awhile. I'm afraid this here may be our only heat source for who knows how long. Good thing it's fairly big and works really well. The cooktop is a nice bonus."

Olivia studied the wood stove with new-found appreciation. We could be a lot worse off, she thought to herself. The kettle whistled and Peter retrieved it and took it into the kitchen. Shortly after he brought out two mugs and handed her one. The warm liquid felt good going down and they sat next to each other on the sofa, the quiet engulfing them once again like an elephant in the room, until they had both emptied their mugs. Peter burrowed under the blankets and studied her in the limited light.

"You know, we've never had a chance for you to tell me what went on Over There."

"Peter, I-"

"'Livia. I really want to know everything that happened. And you need to tell someone. We've got time here until we both can get back to sleep. Please," he begged her, his voice cracking on the word. It grew quiet again and Peter wasn't sure she was going to reply. He knew that simple, quiet moments could be therapeutic also.

Olivia started to speak, her voice calm, her manner neutral. Peter leaned back against the end of the sofa and focused on her every word. She told him about everything that happened to her after Walternate's team grabbed her. About the needles, about them injecting her with the other Olivia's memories, about feeling like she was losing her mind. She told him about Henry the cab driver, and how she had initially threatened him to take her to the opera house only to watch it be encased in amber before her eyes. She told him about how she broke down in the gas station restroom, and Peter visibly swallowed at that. She told him about meeting her alternate's boss, Lincoln Lee, and about how it seemed to her there was more going on there than a simple work relationship. She told him how she remembered him kissing the other Olivia, and how she backed away. She told him about working with the other Charlie, about how she begged him to believe that she wasn't their Olivia and how he seemed to believe her to a degree. She told him about the alternate Broyles, about what she had done to help his son, and that if it hadn't been for him risking his job and his life she wouldn't be sitting here now.

She told him about the times his image had appeared to her, encouraging her, kissing her, confirming she wasn't their Olivia. She told him about the times she crossed over into the Liberty Island gift shop, and about the time she begged the cleaning lady to call him and deliver that message. She told him in detail about the coldness of his biological father, about the maps Brandon's alternate had drawn on her body so they knew exactly where to cut her up in the name of science. She told him about how she lay there sedated, as she heard their Brandon pick up the saw to end her life, and the sound of Broyle's voice at the last second. Her voice broke there and the tears started.

Peter Bishop's stomach started rolling shortly into her story. By the time she got to the end he felt like he was going to throw up. He pushed the nausea aside and moved to her, enveloping her in his arms, her sobs turning into wails of misery. "It's OK, 'Livia. You're here and alive now. They can't hurt you here."

They stayed like that for a very, very long time. Olivia finally settled down and Peter could hear her slow and rhythmic breathing on his shoulder. He eased her down onto the sofa and covered her with the blankets. When he was finished tucking her in he moved to the love seat and sat there watching her.

Peter couldn't even put into words the hatred he had for his real father. He realized just how close he had come to really losing her 4 weeks ago. Worst of all he felt helpless. He hadn't known so he hadn't crossed over to save her. And he hadn't helped her get back. She'd done it on her own. All he could do now was help her here, even if she never wanted him back. He vowed in that moment to give her all he could. Even to risk his life for hers if need be. The realization was sobering and yet comforting.

He closed his eyes and pulled the blankets up to his neck, willing sleep to envelop him.

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