References: "let's just move on" (Marionette), "It's OK. I'm (you're) here now" (Marionette), "That's not what I want" (The Plateau), tripping (Safe), Aunt Missy (The Dreamscape), "I lied to you" (Shapeshifters Dream), "That's the end" (In Which We Meet Mr Jones)
Olivia woke the next day with a whirlwind raging inside her head. Last night came rushing back to her, both the good and the bad times. Knowing she'd have to reconcile with Peter that morning, she groaned and trudged to the bathroom to wash her face of what little eyeliner she wore the night before. She heard rustling in the kitchen and walked down the corridor to meet Peter as he was cooking.
"Oh, hey," he said, surprised. "I didn't think you'd be awake already."
"I just got up."
"I thought I'd make you breakfast."
"You don't have to do that."
"I want to, Olivia." He took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. "I'm an asshole. You were right. Whatever happened last night was none of my business and it wasn't my place to get involved."
"Forget it. It's fine."
"No, it's not. I'm supposed to be your friend. I should never have hurt you like that. I'm really sorry, Olivia."
Olivia wasn't sure whether or not to stay mad at him, but she knew Peter Bishop well. She knew that despite his many mistakes apologies didn't come easy to him, so when he finally did swallow his pride and own up to something he meant it every time. She felt the verity in his words that morning and knew that there was no way she couldn't forgive him for a stupid fight. She remembered something her father used to tell her – when you have an argument with someone, just sleep on it because it always looks better in the morning.
"Don't worry about it," she said, smiling weakly at him. "Let's just move on."
He nodded and smiled gratefully, going back to rattling around in cupboards. "What do you want for breakfast?"
"I don't mind."
"An omelette?"
"Sure."
They fell into a semi-comfortable silence as he started cooking, but it didn't last too long. "For what it's worth," he said. "I really do hope you had fun last night. I know I wasn't fair to Lincoln either, and I plan to apologise to him too, but he seems like a decent guy, Livia."
She nodded and helped him cook. "Yeah, we had a really nice night, but in the end we both decided that it would eventually cost us too much professionally. It's a high-risk job and the bureau doesn't sit too well with workplace relationships. That being said, being in a male-female partnership, you do get the occasional comments here and there."
"What do you mean?"
She scoffed. "The FBI's a massive boys' club, Peter – especially the department I'm in. I'm not taken seriously by some people. Every now and then I overhear some chauvinist asshole in my unit making a comment about how I must be sleeping with Lincoln or Broyles just coz they're my superiors and they like me. You should hear what they say. Some of the guys are just awful. Most of them have been really supportive, though."
"Still, you shouldn't have to deal with that."
She shrugged. "It comes with the job."
He chuckled. She was always like that. She just swallowed whatever happened to her not because she was a pushover but because the job was more important to her than whatever challenge it threw at her. Thinking back to their argument, he hung his head and took a breath. "Olivia, I should explain what I said last night - about the girl in South Africa."
"You don't have to, Peter. It's none of my business."
"Yes it is. You need to know that I didn't say it just to hurt you. It was true. I was seeing someone over there, and she was just a rebound. My heart wasn't in it at all. I'm not proud. I always meant to tell you eventually, but I shouldn't have told you like that."
Olivia nodded and shrugged. "It's in the past, Peter," she said. "It's OK. You're here now."
He smiled back and they finished cooking, sitting down to eat their pancakes. They started talking about the usual things when Olivia's phone rang. She figured it must be Broyles, since he was the only person who'd call so early in the morning.
It wasn't Broyles. Olivia instead heard the familiar voice of her mother's nurse Amy on the other end. She excused herself from Peter in the kitchen to continue the phone call in her bedroom. She knew what Amy was calling about before she even told her. Her mum had died. She knew it in her gut. But even though she expected it, the news still hit her like a kick in the stomach. She wanted to cry and scream and smash things, and she felt herself start shaking under the pressure to keep it all down. In the end, she could only bring herself to ask one thing.
"Has somebody told Rachael?"
"Not yet. I'm just about to call her after I finish speaking to you, dear."
"Don't worry about it," Olivia said. "I'll let my sister know. It'll be better if she hears it from me."
"If you're sure, love."
"I am. Thank you for everything," she managed to get out before she slammed her phone shut. She struggled to get her breathing steady. When she managed to calm herself down, she called Rachael, sitting helplessly on the edge of her bed as she listened to her little sister fall to pieces across the distance. She told Rachael she'd be at her place soon to talk and start sorting everything out. They had to call their family, organise a funeral, sort out payments and insurance and all that. It seemed ridiculous that they'd have so much to do when they were supposed to be grieving for their mother. As she hung up, she forced herself to get it together, going back outside to get her keys and go straight to Rachael and Greg's apartment.
Peter looked up as she walked back into the kitchen. "Was that work calling?" he asked, oblivious to what had just happened.
She hesitated for a moment. She wanted to tell him the truth, but she couldn't handle it – not yet. "Yeah," she lied. The sensation left a bitter taste in her mouth – one she couldn't swallow down. "I've got to go in. Thanks for breakfast."
"Livia, are you OK?" he asked, noticing something was up.
"Yeah. I'll see you later." Without another word she went downstairs to her car.
She managed to hold it together for a little while. She drove until her shaking hands made it impossible. In the early morning light, she pulled over into an empty alley and before she could help it she was sobbing harder than she ever had before. She could barely take a breath. Her whole body was shaking violently as she buried her face in her hands and just cried. She felt small and alone, lost without the one person who'd been there for her through every single day of her life. All she wanted was to talk to her again, to hug her again and smell that perfume she always wore. All Olivia could think was that she had failed her. She should have been there when she died, even if it did happen early in the morning.
After she quieted down, she called Broyles to let him know she'd be in a couple of hours late. She just needed time to comfort her sister and they could start organising plans when she got home from work that night. He offered her some personal leave but she refused it, save for a day off for the funeral. She needed to work right now – she needed something to make her feel anything other than this. He agreed as long as she stayed out of the field for a few days, took it easy. She reluctantly agreed. Desk work was better than nothing.
When she got to work, Lincoln didn't know what was going on, but he sensed that something wasn't right. "Liv, what's up? Are you OK?" he asked her at their desks.
"Yeah. Why?"
"You just seem kind of quiet this morning. Anything going on?"
She shrugged, not lifting her eyes from the files she was studying. "Just home stuff."
"Liv, you know you can tell me anything, right?"
She knew he was being kind but she was starting to lose her patience now. She just wanted him to leave her alone. "I know. I'm just not really the kind of person who does that."
"Can I help?"
"I doubt it," she said with a bite in her voice. She immediately softened. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." She rested her forehead against her hand and closed her eyes.
Thinking she owed him an explanation now and that he'd probably find out from Broyles anyway, she sighed and bit the bullet. "My mother died this morning."
"Liv, I'm so sorry. Are you sure you're OK to work today? Coz you can get some time off -"
"It's fine," she said quickly. "We were kind of expecting it. She was sick for a long time. I just had to look after my little sister this morning. It's hit her pretty hard and she's pregnant so we have to make sure she doesn't stress more than she has to."
"Still, just because you were expecting it doesn't make it any easier. I know you're ambitious, Olivia, but don't be ashamed to ask for some time if you need it -"
"That's not what I want. Look, I appreciate your concern, Lincoln, and I'm sorry I was late this morning, but I really do want to be here. I'm not going home." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I have to go to the lab and get updates from Dr Bishop. I'll be back soon," she said as she left the room, struggling to keep her emotions in check.
She rushed over to the lab, but not because she needed updates. She had to tell Peter the truth. She had to tell him everything. But when she got there she kind of baulked on the inside. She knew she would have to tell him, but she risked falling apart again and the last thing she wanted was to lose it in front of anyone today. She smiled weakly at the Bishop boys as she walked in and tried her best to listen to Walter and Peter's science-fuelled updates. Peter noticed she wasn't as involved as she normally was. "Livia, are you OK?"
"Yeah. I'm good."
"No, Peter's right," Walter said. "Your pupils are dilated. It's a symptom of high stress - unless you're using hallucinogens." He smiled playfully. "Are you tripping, Agent Dunham?"
"Walter…" Peter scolded.
"Peter, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Yeah, sure," he said, going with her to the small office at the back of the lab. He leant against the desk as she closed the door and folded his arms, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on, Olivia?"
She smiled wryly and bit her lip, leaning against the door. "I lied to you."
"About what?"
"That phone call at breakfast this morning – it wasn't from Broyles."
He nodded. "I guessed about as much. What's wrong, Olivia?"
She gulped. He noticed her do that thing where she scrunched up her face a little and tried to talk with her hands. "I owe you an apology. I should have told you this morning."
"Olivia, what is it? You can tell me."
"Mum died," she said simply. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I tried but I was just a bit thrown -"
"I understand. And you have nothing to apologise for." He walked straight over to her and pulled her into a hug. She went rigid in his arms but he refused to let her go. He knew she needed this, even if she didn't. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, Olivia. Is Rachael OK?"
Olivia pulled away and scoffed. "Barely. We just need to focus on keeping her and the baby healthy while she's stressed."
Peter nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know what to say, Olivia. I wish I knew how to help you."
"I didn't come here for your help, Peter. I'm doing OK on my own. We knew this would happen. We had time to prepare ourselves for it. I'm fine."
"Olivia, we both know it's a lot more complicated than that."
"It's not complicated, it's simple. She was sick, she was suffering and now she's not. That's the end."
"That's the end for her."
She paused and ran a hand through her hair, bringing her hands together in a prayer-like position in front of her face. "Look, I just thought you should know," she said finally. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I should have. I have to go back to work. Call me when you have something."
She was on her way out before Peter could stop her.
A few days later, Olivia and Peter were sitting on a park bench along the Charles River. They were waiting for Rachael and Olivia's Aunt Missy to show up so they could go and scatter her mother's ashes somewhere in the area. Her mother really loved this place.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Peter asked her tentatively.
She shook her head. "I think it should just be us – you know, the people that were closest to her."
"Of course. But if you need anything at all I'll just be waiting in the car, OK?"
"Yeah."
She was quiet for what seemed like a long time, running her fingers over the box of her mother's ashes which sat in her lap. "I thought this would feel weird or morbid or something," she finally said. "But it doesn't. I don't feel anything, really. I mean, this is just ash - it's not my mum. It's just nothing." He put and arm around her and pulled her close so her head lay on his shoulder. "She was the only one who's been there for everything, Peter. She was the only one who shared all those memories with me. And now…"
"Now you're not sure how to make sense of the world if she's not in it."
She nodded, the green in her eyes now shimmering with tears. "How did you know that?"
"That's exactly how I felt when my mother died. You're right. Mothers are the only people who are there from the beginning. Losing that guidance, that kind word, that extra set of eyes – it really disorientates you."
He felt her shoulders shake with silent sobs under his arm as she tried to keep herself together. This was the first time he'd seen her cry about her mother. Even when she first told him that day in the lab, she was refusing to let herself feel it. At home, she'd just want to be alone. Sometimes he'd hear her cry at night but she'd never let him past her bedroom door. At the funeral, she looked almost soulless, like she'd felt so much pain it just pushed her into feeling nothing at all. But now she was crying right in front of him – this was a big step in her healing. His heart broke for her as he pulled her impossibly closer, subtly planting a feather-light kiss into her hair. Her tears started to soak through his shirt onto his shoulder.
"I just want her back," she whimpered.
"I know, Livia," he said softly to her. All he wanted to do was kiss her, love her, and do all he could to make everything OK again, but he knew that was impossible, and she was nowhere near ready to hear how he felt about her. "I know you miss her. I'm so sorry."
They stayed like that for a while until they saw Rachael and Olivia's aunt approaching in the distance. Olivia immediately sat up and wiped her face, pulling herself back together. Peter had never seen Olivia like this. Not even after Harris or Lucas or John's accident. Her face was all soft. Because this time she wasn't being strong out of resentment or pride or embarrassment. She was being strong for her family out of love. And in the same way, she had just allowed herself to be vulnerable out of love and respect for her mother. She sent him a faint smile and gave him a brief but sincere thank-you kiss on his cheek before getting up and going to meet her family, grasping the little box of ashes close to her chest.
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