POV Olivia
This is it, I thought. I watched as people from massive dynamic worked around the tank that had been transferred to a warehouse in Iraq. They hooked it up to cords and filling it with water as others set up all of Walter's needed equipment. This is it.
I Turned and heard the buzzer over head as security cleared the doors to open. I froze when I saw who came through.
Peter. What was he doing here? This wasn't part of the plan. Why would he even care enough to drag his ass to Iraq.
It only took him a minute to spot me and he walked over to me, "Olivia," he greeted.
"Peter," I said, quietly yet bluntly, "What are you doing here?"
"I missed Iraq. I had a few unfinnished shady deals," He attempted to joke, but I found no humor in it. Peter took a deep breath, "You're leaving. And I have no way of knowing if you will come back. I had to come."
"Why do you care," I demanded, "You call me a hypocrite, you take her back, and now you want me to believe you care about me leaving?"
"Olivia, how could I not care," Peter said, his eyes showing everything, hurt pain, apology, sympathy. Peter took a step forward and tried to touch my cheek, but that last emotion pushed me over the edge. He felt sorry for me. He had no right. Not anymore.
"Peter, go home. Go help Olivia live a safe life with your son," I turned away and began to walk, but he caught my arm.
"I'm sorry olivia," He said, pure pleading in his blue eyes.
I opened my mouth to say something but then someone called my name.
"Yes?" I said, turning to look at them. Peter dropped my ar,.
"We're ready for you."
Olivia swallowed, "Thank you. I'll prepare."
She began to walk toward the small changing booth in the corner of the hangar, but stopped for just a second to take a last glance at Peter.