Disclaimer: I only wish that I owned Fringe, so I could have them make another 100 episodes.
They couldn't tell exactly what was wrong. All Walter and Peter could see from their perspective, staring at the instruments that helped them monitor Olivia's vital signs during the exceptionally strange procedure, was that she was agitated beyond an acceptable level. As the machine's rapid beeping blared loudly to signal that her heartrate had reached dangerous levels, far beyond what was acceptable even for someone under stress, all at once it became clear that allowing her to remain in the tank and to come out of whatever was happening to her naturally was simply an unacceptable risk. The chance that she would suffer irreparable damage was too great.
For once, Peter didn't defer to Walter's scientific opinion, instead going on what he knew about the conditions that a human body could tolerate and his genuine and unexpected concern for Olivia's wellbeing. He was not going to allow anything to happen to her. Wasn't that why he was standing there in the first place? Why he hadn't already hopped on a plane for anywhere but here? To protect her from Walter's experiment? He was moving across the room towards the metallic monstrosity that she had allowed herself to be put into in the name of saving John Scott's life before he actually told his feet to go anywhere.
As Olivia strained to keep up with the flow of images before her eyes, there was an explosion, a blinding flash of light – the same one there had been at the warehouse – and then almost faster than she could process the image, a face flashed before her eyes for just a split second. It was gone just as quickly – all of it. She was no longer inside John Scott's mind, couldn't see anything, she could only hear a deafening roar as she was suddenly ripped from his consciousness.
If I wasn't here, would he have left her in there out of his own curiosity, or pulled her out? Peter wondered in the seconds it took him to move from the instrument panel, around the large metal structure to the doors on the far side. It was a disturbing thought, but there was no time to dwell on it. It almost didn't matter anyway, since Walter, despite the fact that he was constantly pushing the limits in his experiments and displaying what Peter saw as an alarming tolerance for potential harm to his subjects, had rushed to the doors of the tank on Peter's heels to help his son remove Olivia from its depths.
Peter threw open the heavy doors and quickly lifted Olivia – who was lighter than he'd expected, despite the fact that she was soaking wet – out of the murky water inside by hooking his hands under her arms, pulling her up and against him, then yanking her the rest of the way up as hard as he could, as quickly as he could, until she was clear of the tank. Walter grabbed her legs and helped ensure that Peter was able to get her safely down to the ground. Peter could only hope that he wasn't hurting her, as tightly as he was holding onto her and as quickly as he was moving.
Olivia was only slowly becoming aware of her body again, and was vaguely conscious of having been yanked out of the tank. She lay gasping and choking on the floor, trying to catch her breath. The world around her had yet to come back into focus. She knew that she was out of the tank, but everything was spinning, tipping violently from one side to another without warning.
I saw him, her mind shrieked in disbelief as she struggled for breath. It was the only thing that mattered. Walter's crazy idea had worked! She wasn't yet aware of what was going on around her, only that she was no longer in John Scott's mind. There were hands lowering her to a towel laid out on the cold floor of the lab, carefully but hurriedly placing her down so that she could be checked for signs of distress.
Peter. Somehow she just knew, even though she had yet to focus on any of the faces in the room. Though she wasn't quite sure why, she relaxed ever so slightly, knowing that he was there. It didn't make sense – knowing what she knew about his history, and the fact that he was basically a stranger to her, as well as the fact that she was practically naked and completely helpless at that particular moment, so that he could literally have taken advantage of her in any way he wanted to… but for whatever reason, she felt safe with him.
On the other side of her she felt a prick against her skin, and the slight sensation of something being injected into her bloodstream. That would be Walter, she knew, giving her whatever drug she needed in order to fully regain consciousness. She wondered fleetingly how long the drugs he'd given her earlier would remain in her system, because she needed to be clearheaded as soon as possible.
As the familiar faces and voices around her slowly became clearer, she turned toward Walter. Though he still looked slightly fuzzy, she was desperate to tell him that it had worked. After all, there was no time to lose. Now that she could ID the man who'd been responsible for the accident and for John's condition, they could actually do something about it – something that would save him.
"I saw him!" she gasped, a mixture of disorientation, relief and adrenaline rushing through her system as she pulled herself up to a half sitting position. Walter still hadn't quite come into focus in front of her yet, and pulling herself towards him had made her slightly dizzy. She pushed through it, however, her desire to help John trumping everything else, including her own well-being – as usual.
I'm fine, insisted the voice in her head loud and clear – just as it always did.
Peter watched as Olivia pulled herself shakily toward Walter, most of the way up to a sitting position, her movements sudden and unpredictable. As she did, he unconsciously raised his hand until it nearly touched her back, stopping when there remained barely any air between the two but not quite touching her. His hand hovered there in midair, just behind her back, looking almost as if it was connected to her by a string that held it just a fraction of an inch from her pale skin. If her sudden burst of strength gave out and she toppled backwards, he would've caught her before she could have fallen backwards and hit the floor.
Walter was crouched in front of Olivia on the ground and when she lunged toward him unsteadily, in her haste to tell him what she'd seen. Though he was caught off guard, he managed to catch hold of her in a loose sort of embrace. Since she was still unsteady at best, it seemed wise to keep a grip on her for at least a few minutes. The look on her face was desperate as she grabbed the front of his shirt, holding onto it surprisingly tightly in her fists.
Olivia's hands were clamped onto Walter's shirt in a vice-like grip, as she attempted to stop the wave of dizziness that had suddenly taken hold of her. She tried to ignore it as she told the man in front of her, "I saw John get hurt! I was there! I was there, I saw him…" The hint of panic and desperation in her voice seemed completely appropriate to both Bishops, considering what she'd just been through. Still, everyone was slightly stunned by the fact that, according to Olivia, it had worked.
Without his realizing it, Peter's hand had moved higher as she'd pulled herself toward Walter, keeping her within his reach. His hand was now cupped gently behind her head, making contact for the first time. Her wet hair was chilly against his skin, but he didn't notice. For some reason he couldn't explain, he suddenly felt like it was important to keep this contact with her, even though it increasingly seemed unnecessary as the seconds ticked by and she slowly regained her balance.
As he watched her there in front of him, back from her strange trip into her partner's mind, his relief that she seemed to have survived the whole insane ordeal unscathed grew stronger. He felt the tension that had built up in him the entire time she'd been in the trance like state in the tank abating, as if he was letting go of a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
His eyes went to Walter's, whose own expression was one of disbelief and awe at Olivia's words. Peter's hand moved away from her head momentarily, withdrawing self-consciously after only just then realizing that it had been there. A few seconds later, however, as she leaned back slowly, he replaced his hand behind her head again, more concerned with her well-being than with his momentary feeling of awkwardness.
While there was something reassuring about seeing her there in front of him, somehow it wasn't enough at that moment. After all, it appeared that Olivia had been able to see and interact with John Scott, and he was in a coma. Seeing something didn't necessarily make it real, as strange as that sounded when he said it over and over in his mind. Maybe for that reason, the tactile reassurance that she was actually there and okay was even important to him at that moment. He'd never needed that before – he'd been the type who believed what he saw happening in front of him – at least as far back as he could remember. There must be a scientific reason for this compulsion, he thought, but that would be a mystery for another day.
Walter began to lower Olivia back down gently towards the towel, now soaking wet, that had been laid down on the floor in preparation for the procedure. Being the fighter that she was, of course, she attempted to hold herself up, but was too weak to do so quite yet.
She'd been sitting up, desperately clutching at Walter as she tried to tell him what she'd seen, and then, what little energy she had having been used up, mixed with the adrenaline of waking up and knowing that she'd seen the man's face, she had collapsed back toward the floor. Two distinct sets of hands were supporting her. Walter's, the skin on his hands feeling like small cushions formed by the softness of age. And Peter's, stronger than she would have expected, firm, and… what was it? It was almost as if his hands gave off a slight charge of some kind, as if somehow emotion actually flowed through them into her skin.
That's insane, she told herself. I must still have drugs in my system. Except that she swore that the sensation was real, and it was confusing and comforting all at once.
She didn't want to lay back, and she struggled to keep her head up off the floor, even though it made her continue to choke, as she was still trying to catch her breath. She knew deep down that she was being stubborn, but as usual, it was impossible for her to completely surrender control to someone else.
For once, Walter was following Peter's lead – the older Bishop could concede that his son was more of an expert when it came to anything that was not strictly scientific – and more specifically, to Olivia, for some reason. So because she was fighting it and their goal was to calm her down, instead of lowering her the rest of the way to the floor right away, they held onto her for a minute longer. Peter could somehow sense her relaxing slightly because of this, which in turn allowed her to focus on trying to breathe.
The two Bishops supported her head and neck under their hands just a few inches off the ground as she continued gasping desperately for breath. Peter regarded her with concern, uneasy about the fact that it was taking so long for her breathing to stabilize. He had the feeling that he shouldn't let go of her yet, which was fine with him.
After several tense minutes of Olivia's ragged breathing, she finally relaxed and was able to breathe normally. She felt the men beside her gradually easing their grip on her and letting go, which immediately caused her to stiffen. Still not content to lay back against the towel under her, she pushed herself up against her elbows, finally holding up her own weight. Peter remained sitting on the floor with her, scooting forward slightly and then turning in her direction, so that he was sitting beside her instead of slightly behind her, as Walter stood up to go and take readings. From there, Olivia began pushing herself up to a sitting position almost immediately.
Peter quickly put his hand on her arm, firmly and yet at the same time surprisingly gently, momentarily slowing her down so that she didn't try to get up any farther. Looking at him quickly, in confusion, her eyes asked the question. What are you doing?
"Easy there," he told her. "Just… sit and catch your breath for a second." It would be just like her to jump up and try to get right back to work. Of course, Olivia didn't take kindly to being told to do anything slowly – she never had, as Peter had already noticed – so his words were met with a hint of a scowl.
On anyone else's face, this expression might have seemed unfriendly, but coming from Olivia, he somehow found it endearing. He couldn't help but smile slightly at her, though he tried to stifle it, knowing that it would only anger her further. As he had predicted, the look on his face only increased her irritation, along with the fact that his hand was still on her arm - though she could certainly have removed it if she'd wanted to. Even more annoying – she didn't want to. The sensation was somehow actually comforting. She wanted to shrug it off of her, yet at the same time… she didn't.
"I'm fine," she insisted in a sharp, raspy breath that suggested that she was anything but fine.
Without a word, Peter dropped his hand from her arm and turned quickly to reach for a thick towel that Astrid had set on the floor behind him, turning back around and opening it for her. She was, after all, sitting in front of him soaking wet, in her underwear. Even more important than any modesty issues, she was most likely freezing.
"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly as he carefully wrapped the towel around her shoulders. Never mind the fact that she had just insisted rather brusquely that she was fine. He wasn't buying it, and he was pretty sure that she knew it. It seemed strange that they'd only known each other for a few days, and yet already seemed to be able to communicate certain things without words. Or maybe it wasn't communication, as much as just… understanding. She sighed, but didn't answer, just staring into space as her thoughts raced. She didn't seem especially fine to him.
She heard herself telling him that she was fine – it was almost like an involuntary reaction, something that she just did without thinking about it. She did it pretty often, actually… insisted that she was fine when she was anything but. What on Earth possessed me to say that? she wondered. He doesn't believe me anyway. That much was obvious from the fact that he asked her if she was okay almost immediately after her declaration. Besides, he know what it looks like when you lie, she told herself. That's his thing, remember? Reading people? Her thoughts were so jumbled together, she didn't respond to his question, just continued staring past him.
He looked at her closely, inspecting her face for any sign of distress that the information being gathered by the sensors on her stomach and temples – all still attached to her for the time being – may not have included. Walter was staring intently at the screen in front of him, not far away. It was likely that he was still monitoring the data that the sensors were gathering, so Peter didn't begin to remove them quite yet.
Olivia looked a little bit dazed, and she hadn't moved to pull the towel any tighter around her. Since Peter had let go of it, it had hung limply off of her shoulders, and was now beginning to slide off of her arms. Her eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on him for a second before continuing on, not seeming to actually focus on anything. He couldn't tell what she was looking for, if anything in particular.
"Olivia?" he asked her, a little more loudly. She still didn't seem as though she'd even heard him. It appeared that she was lost in her thoughts… or at least, that's what Peter was hoping. The alternative, of course, was that the procedure that she'd just undergone had caused some sort of unforeseen side effect. Finally giving up on waiting for her to pull the towel around herself and dry off a little, he decided that getting her warmed up was more important that worrying about what she thought about accepting his help. He tugged on both sides of the towel until they were tightly around her shoulders again, holding the ends in front of her and leaning towards her slightly in yet another attempt to get through to her. "Olivia?" he asked again, slightly louder still, beginning to be concerned.
She finally focused on him then, looking at him in confusion as he seemed to appear out of nowhere only inches from her face, for a few seconds before answering.
"Yeah?" she replied weakly.
"Are you okay?" To his relief, the hostility that had been on her face the last time she'd spoken had dissipated, giving way to an expression that would still not quite be considered friendly, but certainly less hostile.
Pausing as if she was thinking about her answer, she finally replied. "Yeah…" she said, shivering slightly. He glanced down at the skin on her legs, seeing goosebumps appear up and down them.
"You're freezing," he told her unnecessarily. Without giving it a second thought, he leaned closer to her and began rubbing his hands up and down her towel-covered arms to create friction and therefore, heat. He continued the action for several minutes before even realizing that he was doing it, at which point he stopped abruptly, sitting back from her and looking slightly embarrassed.
What was that? he wondered. He glanced back at her and saw her looking down at her hands, which sat clasped together in her lap, a slightly amused expression pulling at the corners of her mouth.
"Thanks," she told him simply, making no other comment. Peter's most recent behavior hadn't seemed like the world traveling, cynical con man with no loyalties to anyone else that she'd met in Iraq earlier that week. No, this Peter seemed more like a guy who actually gave a damn. That was exactly the danger, she supposed – that he was just that good at conning people, herself included, and could therefore be absolutely believable as the trustworthy guy, when in fact he was anything but.
And yet, he hadn't even tried to pass himself off as a nice guy once she'd used her leverage on him, back in Baghdad. It was as though the fact that the "good" side of him showed through sometimes was merely an accident that he preferred to avoid, as if he was actually embarrassed when she glimpsed that side of him. She wondered if he was aware of the paradox he was presenting. It was almost as though the more human side of him came out despite his best efforts.
Thanks? he wondered. What is she thanking me for? For the concern? For the towel? For trying to warm her up? For all of it? Or for something else entirely?
Focus, Bishop, the more serious voice in his head reminded him.
"Hey, Walter," he called to the older man, who still stood staring at the monitor in front of him. "can I take the sensors off of her now?" Peter used the change in focus to try to pretend that he hadn't just been fussing over Olivia quite as much as he had for the past few minutes. Knowing how she seemed to hate being the center of attention, he was almost sure it was making her uncomfortable. Besides that, now that he'd realized he had been doing it, he was beyond uncomfortable, as well.
He honestly didn't know what had come over him. It certainly wasn't like him to… no, that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't unlike him to act charmingly towards a beautiful woman. He actually acted that way quite a bit, depending on what the situation called for. He'd been accused of being a ladies' man, and he couldn't exactly deny that. It was just another part of the way he was good with most people in general. However, what he realized about his actions in the minutes since she'd come out of the tank – or if he was being honest, since even before she'd gone into the tank – was that it wasn't an act. This could only mean one thing that he could think of – that that was actual concern he was showing, not just an imitation. How exactly should he interpret that?
"Just another few minutes, Peter," Walter replied. Peter sighed, looking apologetically at Olivia and shrugging. She looked annoyed, as well as exhausted, and very cold.
Peter watched her as she started to shiver more noticeably, then turned and reached behind him for another towel, which he spread out over the top of her legs, tucking the sides in beneath her. She tried to smile, though it came across as more of a grimace, but she continued shivering.
Oh, to hell with it, he thought, scooting closer to her and leaning forward, slightly closer than he'd been the first time, until his crossed legs pressed against her now towel-covered left leg. He pulled the towel that was around her shoulders tight behind her back and then began to rub up and down on her arms over the towel once again. He saw her open her mouth to protest, but it must have helped with the cold, because she seemed to change her mind, closing her mouth before any sound came out. Instead, she gave him a self-conscious half smile and then looked away.
"Anytime today, Walter," Peter called to his father in annoyance. How long did he expect her to sit here soaking wet and freezing?
"What?" Walter asked absently, seeming to forget what Peter was talking about. "Oh, yes. Just another minute or so."
Deciding to be prepared for the all clear from Walter, Peter turned back to Olivia. "Did you bring something to change into?" he asked her.
"Yeah, I… my bag is over there," she said, still seeming slightly disoriented as she turned and indicated somewhere at the other end of the lab with her head. He saw her wince as if the movement had been a little too much, too soon.
She hoped that he hadn't seen the pain that had raced across her face for a split second, since he was already fussing over her more than she was comfortable with, but she could see from a flash of concern in his eyes that he had. This new Peter was a little overwhelming… but at least he seemed less sarcastic.
"Okay, I'll get it," he said, starting to get up. Stopping halfway up, however, he looked back at her and added, "You're still hooked up, so stay here, okay? I'm serious." From the look on his face, she could see that he meant it. "You don't wanna mess up… whatever he's doing over there." Peter glanced over at Walter, who was leaning into the monitor and humming what Peter was fairly sure was an old show tune. "Besides, you still need to take it easy." He saw the look of exasperation flash in her eyes for a second, but then it was gone. She sighed heavily and nodded, resignation evident in her face.
"Fine," she told him through gritted teeth. This was obviously not easy for her – sitting still and allowing anyone else to do even the smallest thing for her. He got up the rest of the way and walked across the lab, looking for a bag that might belong to Olivia. After a few minutes he located a small, black duffle bag, sitting on the floor under a table. Simple and functional, nothing fancy. It seemed exactly like something she would have.
"This it?" he asked, holding it up. She sat up a little straighter and craned her neck – slowly this time – to look in his direction before nodding.
"That's it," she affirmed. Before he had walked back over to where she sat, she was pushing herself off the floor. Sighing, he knew that he shouldn't be surprised. Shaking his head as he quickly took the last few steps toward her, he saw that she had made it halfway to her feet.
"This is don't get up?" he asked her, his face serious but his tone teasing.
"I'm fine," she insisted again, though the defiant look on her face told him that she knew she'd been caught, and dared him to say something about it.
She just doesn't ever let up, he thought as he watched her in amusement. She was standing, but holding onto the back of a chair to keep her balance.
She probably should have rested for another few minutes before getting up, but there'd be no telling her that any more than he got the feeling that anyone could tell her anything when her mind was made up. He glanced down at the sensors on her stomach and all of the wires that ran from them. He stopped a foot away from her, crossing his arms and smirking at her, shaking his head.
"That's not really the issue at this moment," he reminded her, "but I'm glad you think you're fine." From his tone, she could feel that he was teasing her again.
She glared at him for smiling at her in amusement. In response, he held up his hand to remind her to stay where she was. Just then, Walter called, "Alright, son, you may remove the sensors from Agent Dunham."
Peter took a hesitant step closer to her, looking first into her eyes and then at his target as he reached slowly toward one of the sensors on her temples. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought that the look on his face was asking her for permission to be that close. Olivia had almost forgotten that the sensors were there, and for a second she wondered what he was doing, remembering just in time to stop herself from ducking her head away from his hand. He pried off the first sensor slowly, gently working the suction cup loose from her skin and transferring the small piece of rubber to his left hand. Before he moved to her other side to remove the sensor from her other temple, he paused directly in front of her, looking her in the eyes as if searching for the answer to a question he had yet to ask. Finally he did ask her, unsurely, "That didn't hurt, right?"
She shook her head quickly. "No, it's fine," she assured him. Truthfully, she had the urge to pull them all off herself all at once in one quick yank, but she managed to force herself to stay still and wait, albeit impatiently. It seemed like he moved in slow motion by comparison, as he stepped to the other side of her and worked the sensor free from her other temple. She wanted to snap at him that he didn't have to be so damn gentle, that he could just pull the damn thing off, but something stopped her. He's just being considerate, she reminded herself, wondering where the sudden annoyance had come from.
Stepping to the side and depositing the two sensors from her temples on the counter by the computer workstation against the wall, Peter then returned to begin removing the ones from her stomach. He crouched down in front of her, his legs bent at the knees, but found the angle less than ideal, especially since there were quite a few sensors on that part of her body. His knees protested loudly at the idea of remaining crouched over for long enough to remove all of the remaining sensors. With a sigh, he shifted so that instead of crouching, he was now kneeling in front of her, bringing him more comfortably in line with her stomach, and the sensors he had to remove.
Glancing up at her from that angle, however, he suddenly felt slightly awkward. Whether or not he was, he felt much closer to her from that angle. At the same time, she glanced down and her eyes met his for a second, and then they both quickly looked away. She was about as uncomfortable with this part of the process as she could be, and she tensed in anticipation of his hands making contact with her skin. She was only now becoming conscious of the fact that she was standing in front of Peter wearing almost nothing and soaking wet. As much as she didn't worry that he would do anything to harm her, it was a pretty damn vulnerable position to have put herself in… and she did not like to be vulnerable. For some reason, there was a big difference between her comfort level with him removing the sensors from her temples and with him doing exactly the same thing on her stomach.
As he carefully pried the sensors off of her skin, one by one, with his right hand, he spread the fingers of his left hand and ever so slightly and held them against the left side of her lower back, as if to anchor her in place while he worked. Though the touch was slight – barely there at all, in fact – it was as though there were neon signs pointing it out in her brain.
She bit her lip and had to concentrate much harder than she had expected in order to stay still, wanting desperately to squirm away. The slight movements of the fingers on his right hand, conversely, reminded her for the first time in a very long time of just how ticklish she was. If he didn't hurry up and finish getting those sensors off of her, she was sure that she was going to lose control and burst out laughing. She felt the urge to punch him, or at least to step out of his reach.
He glanced up at her after setting the second sensor from her stomach on the floor and noticed the expression on her face, wondering if he was right about her ticklishness. His eyes flicked back down to his work for a few seconds, but as the fingers of his right hand pressed against her skin around the third sensor, he glanced back up at her, feeling movement in the muscles below his fingers, of which he'd already guessed the cause.
"Ticklish?" he asked her with interest, raising one eyebrow playfully. Holding still under his touch was almost impossible for her now, but she was determined not to admit this particular weakness… despite the fact that she was probably the only one who saw being ticklish as a weakness.
"Nope," she replied, obviously lying. Peter chuckled and shook his head, saying nothing.
"You got something to say, Bishop?" she asked him in mock annoyance. He attempted to hold back the smile that was slowly taking over his face as he "accidentally" moved his fingers across the skin of her stomach, watching to see if he could make her admit her lie, or at least make her laugh. Her face changed as he did it, from what was a laugh that she was clearly working very hard to hold in, to a knowing look that bordered on a scowl. It wasn't an angry one though, he could also see.
"Me? Not a thing," he said, finally getting on with the sensor removal, deciding to stop torturing Olivia – as much fun as it was.
"I do have a gun, you know," she reminded him, then immediately looking annoyed with herself.
Peter knew exactly why she looked annoyed. Her gun, like her clothes, was far enough outside of her reach that it didn't do her any good at the moment. Not that he thought she was seriously threatening to shoot him for tickling her… though he realized that it might be wise not to push his luck too much more.
"And if you have it on you right now, then I'm truly impressed," he shot back confidently. Again, she scowled playfully at him. It crossed his mind that the idea of a playful scowl never would have occurred to him before, but that was exactly how he would describe the look on her face just then.
At a loss for a witty comeback, she ignored his remark. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?" she said brusquely, but he watched as she had to work hard to suppress an involuntary smile as his left hand slid an inch farther across her lower back. He moved on to the next sensor in line across her stomach, the fingers on his right hand once again moving just a little more than was necessary. He wasn't doing it on purpose… or at least that's what he kept telling himself.
"Stop it!" she finally barked when she couldn't take it anymore, swatting at his hand only somewhat playfully. He sat back on his heels, at least a foot now separating them, and looked up at her disapprovingly.
"Agent Dunham, I'm going to have to ask that you stand still so that I can finish my work here," he told her seriously, his face betraying nothing.
She narrowed her eyes at him, though he swore he saw a smile behind the annoyance, and hissed, "Just get it over with!" He had been fighting to bite back his own smile, and now it returned in full force. He sat forwards on his knees again, his hands resuming their positions, but was as careful as he could be to avoid tickling her, which he had, of course, been doing on purpose. He was pretty sure that he'd pushed her as far as he dared just then. Finishing his work, he set the sensors down and sat back to glance up at her once again.
"All finished," he declared. "You're officially disconnected." A shiver went down her spine, though she couldn't determine whether it was from the chill in the air or the sudden thought of what she had just disconnected herself from. I was inside John's mind, she thought, her own mind suddenly racing. For a second she felt a little dizzy, and she turned so that she could hold on to the chair besides her with both hands as she closed her eyes and waited for the feeling to pass. Of course, he noticed immediately.
"Olivia?" He'd gotten to his feet and was now looking at her with concern, ready to catch her if she lost her balance.
"I'm fine," she replied through gritted teeth, her eyes still closed.
"Yeah, obviously," he said sarcastically, shaking his head. He wasn't sure what she was determined to prove, other than how stubborn she was. "Come on, sit down for a second."
She nodded her head without comment, but her eyes were still closed. He put one hand on one of her arms to steady her, then carefully removed her hands from the back of the chair, one at a time, with his other hand, holding on to each one lightly between his thumb and his middle finger for a split second before releasing it. She appeared to lose her balance then, for a second, despite the fact that he was holding onto her arm with his other hand. He leaned closer to her so that she if she leaned too far to one side, she'd lean into him, and slipped his arm from her arm to her back, still covered by the towel, his hand coming to rest gently near the base of her neck. She stiffened slightly, but didn't move away.
Now that she was no longer gripping the chair, he used his other hand to carefully turn it towards her. Still, she hadn't opened her eyes. "There. Now sit." Her eyes peeked open just enough to see where he wanted her to sit, and he lowered her into the chair, not letting go of her until she was sitting down securely.
"Just… sit for a second, alright? I'll be right back," he told her, walking quickly to the refrigerator to get her some water. He figured that the chances of her remaining in the chair were about 40% at best, as stubborn as she was. When he returned from the refrigerator with a bottle of water, her eyes were open and, as predicted, she had just started to push herself out of the chair. He watched as she slumped back down when she saw him, looking highly annoyed.
He was a little bit annoyed himself. "Would you just let me help you for once? Or are you… fine?" he asked, holding out the bottle of water to her. She scowled at him, exhaling loudly in frustration and folding her arms across her chest. She stared at him for a long minute, even more frustrated by the hint of a smile on his face. Finally she relented, relaxed her arms and took the water bottle with a nod, momentarily unable to make herself say anything civil to him in her annoyance with herself. She hated not being in control. What was worse, she had finally realized how cold she felt, and was beginning to shiver all over. She knew that she needed to get dressed, but she couldn't even stand up. She needed his help, and it pissed her off more than anything else she could imagine at that moment. Glaring at him once more, she took a sip of the water and tried to calm down.
He could see that she'd had just about enough, and he could tell that the woman in front of him who was so accustomed to being in control was becoming increasingly frustrated with her temporarily weakened state. From the way she'd started shivering in the past few minutes, she was also in need of those dry clothes. He wondered if she would accept his help anytime soon, or if he'd have to force it on her. Watching her carefully, he tried to project calm, instead of the playfulness that he knew usually radiated from him, especially when he was around her. She just seemed to get his humor – even when she appeared to hate it – and it only made him want to tease her more. He knew, however, that this was not the time.
Olivia watched as the laughter in Peter's eyes was replaced by concern. She expected him to say something sarcastic, like he usually did, but instead he put the strap of her bag over his shoulder and then stepped forward, leaning down to put his arm around her and helped her the rest of the way up. "Come on," he mumbled soothingly, "time to get dressed." She wasn't sure exactly what he had in mind, but told her mind not to skip ahead and worry about it. There was no way in hell she was accepting help with that, and she hoped that he wasn't going to dare to suggest it.
Back in the present, she forced herself to take a tentative step forward, trying to step away from him and prove that she was just fine, thank you. The only problem was that she wobbled as she tried to disengage herself from the arm he had wrapped around her back for support, and ended up falling back gently against him. She muttered something under her breath that he didn't catch, but that he was fairly sure was a curse word. Whatever she'd said, he knew that she was extremely agitated.
"Alright, I gotcha," he said, for once without a hint of teasing in his voice. "You'll be superwoman again in a little while. Right now just shut up and let me help you." He felt her snort quietly in annoyance, but it only made him smile again. There was something about Olivia Dunham that was so damn endearing, especially when she was being stubborn. "Besides," he added, "you'll feel better when you get into some dry clothes."
Together they walked slowly towards the door of the bathroom at the far end of the lab, taking a frustratingly long time to get there as far as Olivia was concerned – not that she could have gone any faster. Once there, he opened the door for her and pushed it all the way open, then took a step into the small room so that she could transfer her weight to lean against the sink. He set her bag down on the closed lid of the toilet so that she wouldn't have to bend down and pick it up. "Are you…" he started to ask, but stopped. There was no way she'd let him help her, and as soon as he realized it, he felt foolish for even starting to ask. He distinctly pictured her punching him in the face for even asking the question, for some reason.
Annoyance showed on her face, and she looked both mortified and simultaneously as though she was going to slap him any second, her eyes daring him to finish that question. "I'm fine," she insisted, a little more aggressively than she'd planned.
"I know, I know," he said, backing out of the room and closing the door. He sat on a stool in view of the bathroom door, curious as to how she'd do on her own when she came out. When she emerged a few minutes later, bag over her shoulder, the look on her face dared him to even think about approaching her as she walked out slowly.
"Don't you have some work to do, Bishop?" she asked him curtly.
"Indeed I do," he replied, standing up and watching her move slowly across the lab. She was noticeably steadier than she had been only a few minutes before, he noted. Finally satisfied that she wasn't going to collapse, he walked back over to check on Walter's progress, all the while keeping her in his view. There was a lot of work to be done.