Over the next few weeks Peter sleeps somewhat better. Actually, he still sleeps pretty terribly but compared to the level of sleep he's been used to, it's a small improvement. He has another dream the next night, feels in control of the situation, and just goes back to sleep. It wasn't a great experience going back to sleep to say the least. He dreamed again. Olivia was always there and they would make it through - together.
They have been spending more time with Rachel and the kids, mostly on days when he has a good night sleep. While he is keen to be close with the only family he feels comfortable around, Rachel does not need to know him that well. And honestly, he feels most comfortable around Ella and Eddie, as always convinced that tiny humans are exponentially better than adults.
He would go in an out of cycles where he was plagued with nightmares - no two dreams the same. He feels like a failure for not being able to get passed this, even though Olivia was supporting him, he just focuses on the negative. His inability to snap out of his, the fact that he is failing her again. Yet, when you contrast this with what Olivia sees and feels, she would say he's doing all the right things. He is doing everything to the limit of his physical and emotional abilities, and that is exactly what he needs to be doing. Although Olivia questions whether men have finite emotional ability.
After the first week, she finds that if she makes him tell her about the dream, he is able to let it go. Able to let the fear evaporate into the air as the words leave his mouth. If he tries to dismiss it, and just go back to sleep, he always dreams again. Now, Peter is a very smart man. But that doesn't mean he can follow the inner workings of Olivias brain (or his own). And he can't quite discover the same connection she did. So of course, she helps him, guides him, sometimes even pulls the words out of him, as stubborn as he is.
They are in the last days before moving into their new home. Olivia's tactics are working, and even though he still dreams, he is finally able to fall asleep afterwards.
He is getting impatient though, determined that when they move into their home it will be a fresh start for him. A place with new memories, sights, sounds. One that won't haunt him every night. Again, Olivia is not as certain that his dreams will just go away.
He is getting more loving during the day though, more than he already was, if that's possible. She was in a state of her pregnancy that small changes in the baby's size were quite apparent. Olivia's awe with her body has soon faded, and she is ready for this relentless watermelon to not be attached to her anymore. Peter still stares at her in awe though. Claiming that she gets more beautiful each day (although he dare not tell her). He celebrates every minute change in their daughter, some of which are probably just in his mind. He talks to her - all the time. He tells her how lucky she is to have Olivia as a mother.
As he gets more and more pushback from Olivia on his romantics, he defers to his natural sarcasm. He jokes with her that she has that "pregnancy glow," and it must be similar to how he looks when he glimmers. His comment was met with a stare that could kill a man. She's always had so much meaning in her eyes, but he's found that as she become more pregnant, her eyes can tell even more of a story.
It's been what feels like an eternity since Peter has had a nightmare, and to him it was like he was on top of the world. Funny how a full nights sleep can change one's attitude so much. And yet allow his perception to be misconstrued just the same; in reality, he's only had two good nights in a row.
He comes up behind Olivia and wraps his arms low around her belly. She leans back into him, granting him access to the sensitivity of her neck. He brushes his scruff against her, knowing that it always sends shivers down her spine. He kisses her neck, and moves to her cheek, and then rests his head on her shoulder. She is organizing the last of their essentials. Everything else - clothes, furniture, kitchenware is packed.
She says to him slowly, "you feel good." He smiles against her skin. He responds with a very out-of-character remark, much more serious than his usual sarcasm, "I do feel good."
She turns around in his arms. Their embrace still tight, but her stomach is filling up the space between them more so each day. She looks up at him, arms wrapped around his waist now. "Yeah?" She asks.
"Yeah... I think so" he responds. She smiles lightly, he can still see the concern in her eyes. She kisses him to distract him from her worries.
"What do you think?" He asks.
"Think about what?" She is still trying to hide her sense of concern. He looks at her bemused. His brows furrowed and his eyes telling her, "you know exactly what I'm talking about."
"Well..." she starts, "I think you are good."
He knows all too well what is coming next, "But?" He asks. If this weren't a serious conversation she would roll her eyes and give him a lecture about how he always seems to think her life is a series of "buts."
"But I've seen you sleeping, when... when it happens. And, I don't know. I think there is more happening than you're aware." His eyes grow wide. She knows he is flashing back to him being so out of control that he hit her in the face - hard enough to split her skin. She doesn't want to add worry, or make him doubt himself. She doesn't want him to regress to his old ways of hiding, building walls, and only coming out for revenge.
He opens his mouth to speak, but she interrupts him before he can get a word out. "Peter, I know there have been good changes. Changes that you feel. And you do feel better. But..." she hesitates on that last word, knowing that he is taking a mental note of her use of it. "However..." she continues, "I don't want you to be disappointed if it happens again at our new place... these things take time," she tries to reassure him.
He doesn't even try to speak this time. He just looks into her eyes, almost frozen. Centering back on his fear, harsh actions, and lack of awareness when he is in that state of mind. She knows where his head is at, and she knows the next thought that is going to cross his mind. She tries to speak before he comes to a conclusion himself, "I don't want you to be afraid of our little girl."
He closes his eyes and slumps his shoulders. Unable to hide his disappointment in himself. She finishes her thought with one last point, "Hey... look at me." His eyes barely lift enough to meet hers, "we both know you are going to be the favorite parent," she smiles, he doesn't. "I don't want you to walk on eggshells and not be able to build that bond because you are too afraid of hurting her, or letting her down. You are a much better man than you give yourself credit for."
He can't keep her eye contact any longer. He lowers his head even more, until it is resting on her forehead. He silently complies to her comments, taking in their meaning and trying to see her point of view.
"We can do this," she says again. It has become a mantra of sorts between them. He finally lets a soft smile spread across his face. He lifts his head and simply says, "ok," before kissing her and heading off to finish the packing.
...
Later that night, He still feels good when he rests his head on the pillow. Looking into her eyes, seeing her reassuring smile. He kisses her with the force of a great love, and channels all his energy into his thoughts "please don't dream tonight, please don't dream tonight."
"Goodnight Olivia" he speaks the words that used to turn his blood cold in his veins.
As if on queue, he dreams again that night.
...
Olivia wakes up to an intense movement in their bed. He simply cannot stay still. She looks at him, and studies his stress level. When she told him this afternoon that she could see more, it was true. She has experienced more. Because she sees the whole process, the lowest low where he is probably facing his worst fear, the sadness he is met with when he knows his fear has come true, and the panic that sets in when he wakes up. He has been able to recover quite quickly lately, trusting Olivia, responding to her voice and her touch. He only experiences that as the tip of the iceberg though, and yes that part has greatly improved. But everything that happens before, everything below the surface is still concerning to her. He thrashes with just as much intensity as he did the first night he dreamt with her home from the hospital. She can sense there is something he still has not gotten off his chest. A reoccurring theme that goes beyond her death. Something he hasn't been willing to admit yet.
This nightmare is particularly bad. His limbs are wild and out of control. For the first time in a while, she prepares herself to wake him up without physically getting in his way. She tries to hold his hand, a tactic that has been working very well lately. He not only flinches when she touches him, but he pulls his hand away immediately as she grasps it.
"Peter," She says softly, not touching him at all, "Peter, we can do this... we're going to be ok."
His dream state intensifies, sweat dripping out of his pours. His hands are by his sides now, limbs more still and fragile, but then she sees it. His hands are visibly shaking. As this shaking spreads across his body, he almost looks as if he is cold. Fighting for his life, or more likely for her life, and unable to have a steady hand, or thought, or any kind of movement really.
She feels safe to be with him. She always does. But especially now, she can tell he is in his most vulnerable stage of the dream. One filled with sadness, loneliness, and gut wrenching fear. She decides to hold him. To bring her body to him (as close as she can since her bump is ever growing). She places her head on his chest and wraps her limbs around him. He even physically feels cold, yet he is sweating profusely.
She just starts talking into his ear. Not trying to call out his name, get his attention, or tell him reassuringly that they will get through together. Instead she talks about their daughter. And the life she sees for the three of them. Her words fill the air, and fill his lungs with rejuvenation and hope.
His eyes burst open, and he tightens his arm around her as a reflex motion; she is still at his side. He squeezes her tightly, holding on for dear life. His breathing slows at a much faster rate; he honestly is getting better at recovering. He blinks his eyes tightly two or three times, as they adjust to the darkness. He realizes how tightly he is holding her, and loosens his grip. He looks down at her, wondering why she is so close to him.
After a moment he says, "that bad huh?"
She replies, "not bad, just different. More sadness, less violence." She pauses, trying to gain confidence before asking the next question, "I might ask you the same though..." she says after a long silence, "it seemed bad for you."
He sighs, scratching at his stubble as he contemplates what he will actually open up about. How much of the truth he will tell her. He wants this to all be over, yet he's clutching onto something so deep and painful he'll never surface on the other side of this. She feels him hesitating, so she helps him along, "you weren't moving as much, as suddenly or harshly. But... you seemed crushed, like you were physically experiencing the greatest despair."
Still no response from him.
"You were shaking," she says finally.
He tries to cover up this change, explain it away, "it was the same scenario, just after the baby was born."
"I thought you had already dreamt that?" She points out, knowing that he hasn't repeated a single dream thus far.
He is putting up his walls again, "well yeah, but this version was slightly different. More sad."
She decides to confront him. Knowing the risk but also knowing they are running out of time before their new home, and the tiny new life they will be responsible for.
"Peter..."
He won't look at her.
"I know that's not what you dreamt about. What aren't you telling me?"
He opens his mouth, as if he is going give some excuse or ponder up another explanation. She can read right through him; she can always tell. Before his voice comes, she lets him know where she stands.
"Peter," she says slightly more forcefully this time; he breathes a sigh of frustration, "Peter you know that hiding or ignoring it is just going to make it worse. You do know that right? If these last months have shown you anything, I would hope you've learned that."
Silence still. His gaze straight up at the ceiling. Sweat glands still active as more drops fall down his temples. She knows she will have to pull it out of him, even if it takes all night.
"You know... you have different reactions depending on the dream. I've noticed it since we discovered that admitting the details helps get it out of your system. I can predict what the theme might be, or what the subject line might be."
Still no response from him. Physical or verbal.
"This... this was different," she continues, "and I also know that there is one subject we have not talked about yet. Something I've asked you about and never received an answer."
Why is she so smart? He wonders. Why did he have to fall for an FBI agent of all people, someone that can read him, investigate his actions. He can't keep anything from her even if he tried. Maybe she just knows him too well by now. Something he couldn't have imagined or hoped for in his wildest dreams. And yet, here he is. Hating her and loving her at the same time; being saved by the great Olivia Dunham once again.
She can tell he's deep in thought. She tries again, "Do you need me to say it out loud, or are you able to admit what you actually dreamed about?"
Big surprise, still silence fills the room. He is not letting go of this one easily.
She continues, "you know I am aware of things that happened to my own body. There are scars. I can feel them now even if I wasn't alive to experience them when it happened."
She is referring to the exit wound and he knows it. He can't keep the emotion from his face any longer.
"I can feel the scar. It's there. You could feel it too if you wanted."
That was the last thing he wanted right now.
She asks gently, but firmly, as if to show that she is done doing all the talking and he needs to let it out for himself, "what is so scarring about the exit wound? You clearly have scars from it too, Peter."
He sits in contemplation. Could she have asked a more direct question? No. And he knows that's the point.
He rolls his head toward her, finally acknowledging her presence, her words. Shame floating in his eyes now.
"It's not about the exit wound itself. Or the scar. It's about what gave you the scar. Who gave you the scar. What opened the wound."
He tries to get away with that as his answer and move on. But stubborn as she is, she won't let him. He feels her probing him even though she isn't actually saying anything.
"I don't know Olivia... ok? I don't know," his frustration is spewing out now, "I can't... I won't share that with you. I just can't. I don't know why."
She feels him fidgeting, as if he is trying to get away from her. Away from her stare, her questions. She doesn't budge - holding her ground, thus making him hold his.
He can't articulate himself, "I shouldn't have watched him do it, ok? I just shouldn't have."
He waits for her to lead the conversation again, to ask him a question, anything. Instead, silence fills the room. He knows exactly what she will ask him though. He can predict their conversation.
"It was enough that you got shot, then he had to make it worse before it got better," he knows he has to keep going now, "I tried to stop him Liv, I thought.. I thought he couldn't save you. I thought you were gone."
She knows she could tell him her answer without a word. But she chooses to speak because she knows he is fighting this. He is fighting that act of letting her in, "Ok... well, I still want to better understand. I was shot. I was already dead. Why does it matter so much?"
He is frozen at her words. It's been a while since she's said that so directly to him.
"I don't know," he says, his tone more sad, damaged, finally letting go of his frustration.
"So why don't you just tell me what happened in the dream? You don't have to know why it matters. Just tell me."
She feels him take a deep breath as her head rises and falls on his chest. He looks back at the ceiling and starts talking in a very monotone voice. As if he can say the words in a matter-of-fact way, it will give less meaning to them.
"We were on the ship with Bell, and you know Walter shot you. You've already figured out that the bullet didn't come out. And you're right. It didn't." He continues. Speaking with a slightly fast pace because if he stops, he won't keep going, "so Walter explained he needed to get the bullet out, and the Cortexiphan would allow your cells to regenerate where the path of the bullet was. As long as the bullet was out."
He pauses.
"He took a letter opener and stuck it in the back of your neck," he grimaces at the thought, but continues, "he probably had to go in about 4 inches. I tried to stop him, I didn't know what to do. But the thought of him sticking a knife into your brain just didn't seem right."
She interjects, worried that her words may cause him to stop his flow of thoughts. But also needing to know the depth and reality to this conversation, "is this in the dream or what actually happened?"
He tries to chuckle, but nothing comes out. He says flatly, "oh this actually happened."
She lets that sink In for a moment. Another imagine she knows is burned into Peter's brain.
"But in the dreams, I actually do stop him. Because I was trying to protect you. Trying to right the wrong of failing you - failing you just minutes before when you were shot."
He resumes his monotone description, trying to hide any sadness or shame in his voice. "I stop him. And you die. And it's my fault."
She knows it's breaking him to admit this. She encourages him once again, "is this what happened just now... in your dream?"
He sighs. "No. That happened about a week ago. Like you said, tonight was different..."
"Different how?" She asks.
He hesitates, "tonight... um tonight was here... in our place. But you had been reactivated again. And Bell and Walter were here. He found you."
He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Never very good at saying the right thing. Especially when it is this delicate of a subject, "and.. uh.. we knew what had to happen. Walter and I. Because we had seen it before. But Walter couldn't do it- he couldn't shoot you. I don't remember exactly why or how, but it just wasn't possible for him to do it..."
He finally finishes his sentence, "... so I had to."
She feels his heart rate elevating. He hurriedly gets everything else out before his mind can stop him.
"I shot you. And you died. And I was holding you in my arms, waiting for Walter to come over. And he just.. he just disappeared with Bell. He was gone. And I was alone. Because you were gone too."
Surprisingly, he continues.
"Then I got the letter opener... did what Walter did," he can't physically say the words describing the act.
"And I... I couldn't do it. I couldn't save you. I tried, I did exactly what I needed to do. But it didn't work."
She holds him tighter, knowing there is more he wants to say.
"... so I shot you and killed you and couldn't save you. It was my fault. You were gone and that was my own punishment for not protecting you."
She can't keep silent anymore, "Peter" she says, almost a hint of pity in her voice. He senses it and tries to escape her hold again. Of course she doesn't let him.
"Peter, it's not your fault," She tries again. Still no response from him. He let out all of those cruel words, and there is nothing left inside for him to say.
She decides to just hold him for a moment. Knowing that her words won't console him. Also knowing that her touch probably isn't consoling him but she stays tight to him anyways.
Minutes pass, "I'm still here," she says.
He responds weakly, "I know."
She pauses, "but the dreams are very convincing otherwise." He simply nods his head and lets out a concise, "yepp."
She lets him be for a moment, then asks, "Do you have that fear for our daughter? That you could do the same to her?" She knows this is pushing his limits. But she really wants him to get it all out.
He has the same response to her last question. A curt nod, followed by, "yepp."
She says softly, "You know I havn't been scared to fall asleep with you once yet. Because I know you. You protect the people you care about..."
She continues, "And Peter, you are going to care so deeply about our girl. You already do. You show me that every day. As I am confident that you will always care for me, even when you think you are in a completely different reality, I am confident you will always care for her too."
She pauses. Hoping her words are getting through to him.
"Your mind is... complicated right now. But deep down, you could never hurt her. Your heart wouldn't let you."
He feels like crying. But honestly after the last few months he doesn't think he has any tears left. He hadn't realized, but this whole time he was rigid against her, still trying to escape. He feels his body relax now, letting it go.
He closes his eyes momentarily, only to feel her hand on his cheek, and her warm breath hovering over his lips. She leans into him, and he easily accepts the gesture, her lips lowering onto his.
"We can do this," she says at last, "I trust you, always... you just need to trust yourself."
He looks back at her, questioning his ability to do such a thing. She sees the doubt in his eyes "you can trust yourself."
He closes his eyes, taking in her words, the feel of her breath on his lips, and for the first time, he believes her.
For the first time, he can trust himself.