His eyes flicker open and the familiar smell of pine fills his nostrils. The bed is warm as he cocoons himself further into the blankets. It is deep into autumn, and the temperature outside hovers just above freezing. Not cold enough to be defined as winter, yet, but cold enough to stop him from getting out of bed in any sort of rush.
He hears clutter and clanking from the kitchen and immediately moves into action. He hobbles around the room as the cold wood breaches the skin beneath his toes, searching for sweats and a jumper. He finally reaches the corner with his slippers and sighs a breath of relief when his freezing toes are met with the warmth of the shoe.
He saunters down the stairs, knowing exactly what he is going to find in the kitchen when he gets down there.
"Do you ever, I don't know, sleep in? Rest? Listen to anything anyone tells you to do?" He says seriously enough that she knows she is being faux-scolded for her 'irresponsible' behavior.
She turns, slightly surprised by his voice even though he was anything but quiet coming down the stairs. It's as if she is surprised that he is telling her off, not that she's surprised to be caught in the act. She stands up, pulling clean plates out of the lower rack of the dishwasher and holding them in front of her as she turns to him. The smile on her face begging for him not to be mad, "morning..."
He laughs, "Did you think I wouldn't know? That it wouldn't be obvious when I came down and all the dishes were done?"
She shrugs, plates still stacked in hand, her face giving the very common look of 'I didnt think through my actions before I did them, I just started doing.' Well, it's a common look to Olivia. He can't even count the number of times she's run full speed into something she is not supposed to do in the field or on a case.
She knows her response is full and complete with this one look, so she just waits for him to start the conversation again, likely telling her she is being 'reckless and irresponsible' about all of this.
She starts to lower the plates onto the counter, a sign of surrender that she will immediately stop doing any dishes... what a crime. As the plates land on the counter, she turns back toward him and her very pregnant stomach is front and center to her appearance.
"What don't you understand about '72 hours bed rest and minimal activity'?'" he asks, accusingly.
"I understand it perfectly well," she responds with a little too much confidence.
"So you're choosing to ignore the advice, oh wait, no...the direct order from your doctor for the health and wellbeing of our child?" he asks, his highest level of disappointment yet.
"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," she says, the guilt immediately coming through the sad look in her eyes, "I will be good now, I promise."
He raises his eyebrows, almost challenging her, and then while keeping direct eye contact, points his finger toward the couch in the living room behind him. She walks towards him, showing her obedience to completing her very simple assignment. The puppy dog eyes don't go away though.
He plants a kiss on her lips as she walks by, unable to withhold his love for her, yet still threatening to use forced restraints if she doesn't comply with his previous couch command. She feels his plump lips on hers, and apologizes one more time with the passing kiss.
Soon she is a half step away from him and he quickly turns, swinging his hand around to playfully smack her ass.
"Hey!" she says walking faster toward the couch and trying to hide any laughter that might spew, "I said I would be good now..."
"Fine," he says resolutely, "that was your punishment, we're even now." The smile grows on his face as he supervises her awkwardly lowering herself down to the couch. She leans back, putting most of her wait on the arm rest, and then plops onto the couch from about a foot above due to her complete inability to bend forward. He watches her with eyes that say 'you're lucky I'm still letting you do that by yourself,' and then turns back toward the kitchen to finish unloading the dishwasher.
When he returns with a coffee for him and a decaf tea for her, she is twiddling her thumbs on top of her expanded belly, "what am I supposed to do for all this time?" She asks as if it was a prison sentence to be on bedrest for 72 hours.
He openly laughs at her, disregarding any respect for her stubbornness, "you realize, that is the whole reason we came up to Reiden lake for the weekend, right? Because you would never sit still in the house."
She makes a face at him and sticks her tongue out, mocking his complete righteousness.
He laughs again, rolling his eyes this time, "well, we're going to have a great weekend of board games, and books, and ..."
"Boredom?" she interrupts.
"Sure, if that's what's on your to-do list," he says sarcastically.
"Ha-ha, very funny, Peter," she says, mocking him, "you know I can't do this."
"Do what?" He asks, "prioritize our daughter's health over your boredom?"
"UGH, Peter... well when you say it like that," she retorts. He knows her so well that if he doesn't sink to the low of bringing their unborn daughter and her health into this, Olivia would surely do everything the doctor told her exactly NOT to do.
"You used to love spending weekends here," he says, trying to convince her that she should enjoy these next few days.
"Yes, but that is when I can do things," she responds harshly.
"Ok, well, let's do something," he says as he scooches next to her on the couch.
She raises her eyebrows at him, challenging his ability to entertain her.
"Fine," he says, "I'll pull out my best stuff... we have a first name, but no middle name. Let's decide?" He asks.
"I thought, we were going to wait until she was born?" she says, the emotion spewing out of her voice as she thinks about having a real, live daughter.
"I know... but I think we could come up with a list of ideas," he says enthusiastically. "You know I am bad at not having instant gratification. And... I've been so good for so long. We're so close now, just a few days away, can we? Can we please?" He asks, using his best butterfly kiss eyelashes to plead to her.
"Alright, alright," she starts, "you know I want to make a decision in the moment though, so let's treat it like that, ok?"
"Ok," he agrees, "how about we each come up with 2 names based on 'the moment' and we'll say them at the same time... but one at a time... you know what I mean," he says laughing at his first attempt at a dad joke. She did not find the humor in it.
"You're ridiculous, but yes, I agree, let's do it," she confirms.
"So how much time do we have to think? Or does it have to be spontaneous?" he asks.
"Spontaneous," she says, smiling.
"Alright then, on three?" he asks. She nods in confirmation.
"One... two... three!"
"ROSE"
"SOPHIE" they practically yell at each other, unable to contain their excitement.
"Oh I actually do love Rose," Peter says, letting the option sink in... "Henrietta Rose Bishop... Etta Rose," they joy on his face as these potential names go through his head is magnetizing to Olivia. She can't look away, just watching him see their daughter's life through his eyes... through her eyes.
"Mhmm," she says smiling in agreement, "but I also like Sophie."
"Oh come on we both know Rose is better and you're just saying that so I don't feel bad," he laughs back at her.
She tries to keep the act up, but she simply can't... "I just want you to feel included... like you have a say too," she smiles shyly.
"Are you kidding me?" he asks, genuinely surprised at her reaction, "We are naming our daughter Henrietta, I think if that doesn't make me feel included or like I have a say, then we have a lot bigger fish to fry." The confidence he exudes is gentle, yet strong, as always he contradicts which emotion he is sending, versus which emotion she is feeling, or which emotion she thinks he is capable of. But the same could be said for her... his opinion on her capabilities is much greater than her own.
"Ok, agreed," she says lightly, "well, let's see what the other one is, and then we'll decide."
"Alright..." he looks into her eyes with so much love and meaning, she can almost feel him inside her own thoughts, "one... two... three!" he says again.
"MARIE"
"MARIE"
"What?!" they both shout at each other after they say the same name at the same time. "Did you cheat? How did you know?" she asks him, far too accusatory.
"No! I swear I came up with that on my own," he responds, smiling so hard that it looks like it may be lying.
"I don't trust you..." she says sarcastically.
He moves closer to her, their already touching thighs being pushed together harder, "well... even if you don't trust me, I still think it's the best choice out of the options," he says cheekily, his nose centimeters from hers.
She moves in for a kiss, expecting it to be loving, but quick, so they can come to a final decision on this matter. But of course, Peter the romantic, holds his hand up to her cheek, gently caressing her skin and pulling her in for the most languid kiss. She revels in the moment, and only once he pulls away does she mimic his action, admitting, "ok... I believe you," with a tender smile across her lips.
He moves in for another kiss, the shared meaning of the name they chose coming through every intimate touch of their skin. He moves an inch away from her lips so he can look into her eyes, his hands still cupping each cheek, "It's perfect," he smiles.
"Yes, it is," she responds, still smiling, "so perfect, but also missing just one thing."
"What?" he asks, but she doesn't respond. She simply looks at him, her eyes telling him that something is not right.
"What's it missing?" he asks again, slight worry coming through his voice.
"Peter," she says quietly before looking down, and then meeting his lips once more in a soft, apologetic kiss, "you know this... she is missing something very important."
"Liv? What?" he asks, actual fear surrounding pouring out of his every cell. The room feels like it is shrinking, and she feels further and further away from him.
She looks at him once more, her apologetic eyes turning accusatory... in a certain way, "she needs her real father, Peter."
"What? Olivia?" he asks, moving away from her to sense the urgency and truth of her words.
Olivia shrugs casually, "she needs her father. The problem is you. You don't belong here. "
The room starts flashing in front of Peter, black to white to black to white... he's sitting on the couch one minute with Olivia, and then another she is not there anymore.
"You're the problem, Peter," her voice echoes throughout the room, even when he has flashes of being alone on the couch. The furniture around him starts vibrating - he can feel and see it. Soon the flashes become more extreme, and the intensity of the light becomes so much that he has to shield his eyes.
FLASH... white... and then he sees a figure. Someone he doesn't recognize.
He turns back to Olivia, scared he is losing her - and rightfully so.
FLASH... black... and then the figure becomes more clear... standing just in front of them at the foot of the couch.
He reaches for her, but every time he tries to grab onto something substantial, it slips away like grains of sand falling out of his hands.
FLASH... white... FLASH... black... and then he sees him, the observer.
"You're the problem, Peter," she keeps repeating, " she needs her father in the right timeline, and that's not you. "
His heart is in his throat, panic ensues as he tries to catch his breath, "Olivia?!" he yells into the empty air.
FLASH... then he's sitting on the couch in Olivia's apartment...
FLASH... then he's in Reiden lake, the observer standing in front of him, "tell me what is happening!" he shouts through the chaos, "where is Olivia!?"
FLASH... Olivia is back with him on the couch and they are sitting together in her old apartment again. But then she disappears, just as an observer would when they go to a different time in history. The man now staring at Peter, tilts his head almost as if he is asking Peter what is going on at this moment.
FLASH... Reiden Lake, Peter is getting dizzy, his ears ringing. He's yelling for Olivia and suddenly he hears another voice start to fill the room, "she is your Olivia... go find her... she is your Olivia... she has been all along."
Peter reaches out in front of him, trying to focus on one human being in one place. He hears the words, but doesn't comprehend them. He feels stretched across realities, split across universes or timelines or whatever is happening now.
FLASH. Olivia's apartment... "She is your Olivia," the observer says again.
Peter's eyes open, his entire body dripping with sweat and fuming with anger. His inability to protect her will always be his greatest weakness, only exacerbated by the piercing fear that he won't be able to protect their daughter either. He blinks his eyes, trying to focus in the dark and get a sense of his true reality.
Now he knows it was all a dream.
He closes his eyes and places his hands over his face, defeated that he is indeed stuck in the same predicament that he was in when he went to sleep on her couch. The thought of them together at Reiden lake the few days before the birth of their first child was, of course, too good to be true.
He sits in silence and in self loathing, blaming himself over the fact that his brain tortures him on a nightly basis.
"She is your Olivia."
Peter sits up in shock, as if he needed to defend himself, or maybe Olivia (and their child). He swings his legs onto the floor and stands so his feet are toe to toe with a pair of black shining dress shoes.
"She is your Olivia."
He looks up to find September, still there, in front of him just like he was in the dream.
"What?!" he asks, standing to get a better look at the observer's face in the dark, "how do you know?" he no longer tries to hide the panic in his voice.
He rushes over to the side of the living room to turn on the light and make sure he isn't hallucinating. He clicks it and quickly has to shield his eyes as his pupils adjust to the light. He struggles to open his eyes, but once he does, he confirms the presense of an observer... standing there in Olivia's living room while he slept on her couch.
This shit never gets normal, does it? He thinks.
"You're saying she is my Olivia... are you sure?" he pleads.
"She is your Olivia," the observer repeats.
Peter comes face to face with September, grasping his shoulders with his broad hands to feel that he is real. September has no reaction to the force that which Peter is holding his arms.
"Come. Tell. Her. With. Me," Peter says sternly, trying to force the observer toward Olivia's bedroom door. September's feet stay steady as if he were made of entirely brick or stone.
"UGH," Peter exhales in exascerbation, "why can't you just tell me what happened... just explain it all?" he begs.
September simply grasps Peters wrists and pulls them off his shoulders, placing them back at Peter's side. He resumes standing, statue like, and then tilts his head before speaking, "She is your Olivia. You were erased... but she brought you back. You were supposed to be erased."
Peter stands there, staring at him in obvious shock... "My... Olivia...?" he whispers, the realiziation setting in.
"Your... Olivia," September says in a very calculated way, "she loves you... and she brought you back."
"How?" Peter asks, his voice far too sad.
FLASH
"How?!" Peter yells into the bright light.
Suddenly, September flickers out of the room, leaving Peter alone standing in his boxers and T shirt in Olivia Dunham's appartment, shocked, confused, terrified, but she's... she's his Olivia?
...
She's my Oliva... he starts contemplating in his head. Repeating over and over again until it feels real, which it never does. There is some sense of relief, but it often follows with panic as he tries to comprehend what just happened.
Then... Olivia... he realizes she is in fact, in the next room.
He knows that the only way for this to feel real to him is if he tells her, if he confides in her. And based on the last couple momentous conversations, albiet confusing, she is his Olivia. It was the confirmation he needed.
He has little control over his body before he realizes he's walked to Olivia's door, his fist and knuckles hovering in front of the wooden door, ready to knock. His hand falls to his side, contemplating, then he closes his eyse and pictures her, pictures all the things that have happend over the last day that have proven it is her. It is her.
He knocks on the door, unsure what he is going to say, but knowing that he will come up with something on the fly. For God's sake, its Olivia, of course he would come up with something to say. He had to.
He hears rustling, the open and close of a drawer, then shuffling toward him. The door creaks open and she looks at him in a tired, lost, confusion, "I thought you were getting some sleep?" she asks, once she is able to form words again.
"Yeah," he says smiling, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world that he is standing outside her door. As soon as he hears her voice, he knows. He just knows its her. And he can't waste another moment being away from her.
"On the couch...?" she clarifies.
"Yeah..." he says again, implying that her confusion is unnecessary.
She looks at him, head tilted, eyebrows raised, silently asking him 'what the fuck?'
"Just open the door, ok?" he pleads, "I really have to pee."
Her face mainly says 'you know there is a separate bathroom out there, right?' but she also cant help but let a subtle smile grow across her face as she moves her body away and opens the door widley.
...
He returns from the bathroom to see Olivia sitting on the bed, rustled pillows and duvet still sloppily laid on it. The implication of that bedding saying more than either of them would be able to speak right now.
"What are you doing?" she asks, exhausted from the ups and downs, back and forths, and just general messiness of this situation.
"I told you, I need to get some sleep," he says sarcastically as he walks to the bedroom again. The casualness in which he moves irks her.
"Peter, I don't have the energy for this," she replies, "can you please just tell me what you're doing here... what do you want?"
"Liv..." he says sighing, but then a smile grows on his face and he turns to look at her from the edge of the bathroom, "I want you," he finishes resolutely.
She looks at him in pure and utter shock, so he takes advantage of this situation to further explain, "Look," he starts walking toward her, "I know it's you, ok? I have my certainty."
She still can't respond. He is saying all of this and it hasn't even phased him; it is so normalized to him. How the fuck did this happen?
"Now can we please go lie in bed, I am exhausted," he reaches out his empty hand toward her, encouraging her to grab it so he can pull her toward her side of the bed. She slowly raises her hand to meet his, but doesn't move when he gently tugs on her arm to start walking.
He smiles at her, "you should see your face right now," he says jokingly, knowing all too well that he has looked exactly like that at least 3 times in the last 24 hours. She finally relaxes her muscles and gives him a fake dirty look, a sign of her accepting him, or maybe just accepting his sarcasm at this point.
"Liv, I promise," he starts, "we can talk about this all you want. I just really need to be horizontal when I do it," he smiles asking her politely to just come get in bed with him.
"Ok," is all she says, and she starts walking with him.
They edge toward her side of the bed and he lets go of her hand to walk around to the other side. He immediately starts undressing himself to match her sleep shirt, leaving just his boxers on. Something he would not have slept with when they were fully together, but she also guesses it would be slightly bizarre to go stark naked. They are strangers who just met each other three months ago, right?
He pulls down the covers on his side of the bed, eerily comfortable in her room. He slides in the bed, the cold sheets stinging his skin as he looks for a warm body to pull close to him. As he reaches the other side of the bed, he realizes she is still standing close to the bathroom door, "you coming?" he asks gently.
She nods her head, but doesn't answer him.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, being gentlemanly as ever. He knows her answer, but wants to give her an obvious opportunity for an out.
"No." She says it so quickly he can't help but smile, "explain... first? Or... just, give me a second, ok?"
"Sure," he says, giving her one of his trademark smiles.
She walks into the bathroom, grabbing a hand towel on the way. He lies there, thinking of all the other times he's slept in this bed. It feels so familiar, yet so strange. At least she didn't have to change the entire sheet and duvet set this time...
She emerges, still wearing just the T-shirt, with her hair tied back and her face washed. She pulls back the covers and slides into the bed next to him easily, like she has done it a million times.
She pulls herself tight to his chest once her limbs hit the cold sheets. The shock of the cold causes her muscles to stiffen, so she hurries to press her body against his, resting her head on his shoulder and holding onto him with her arm draped across his abdomen, falling into their old habits so easily. But... but, he was still being really fucking weird, "can you... can you just tell me what you really want?" She asks hesitantly.
"Of course," he responds, his eyes already closed. His fingers trace up and down her arm and she lets the tiredness sink in, "I want to spend weekends in Reiden Lake with you... and I want to have kids... start a family, live in a house, be married... not necessarily in that order. Do you want me to continue?"
She is suddenly very awake, her pupils growing wide again, just like they did yesterday when he told her she was pregnant in his dream.
"Was that too much?" he asks sarcastically.
"Uhh-" she tries to speak, but can't come up with the words. He clearly hadn't said all those things so directly to her, even before the reset. But, he did live a whole life married to her. Their world may have been falling apart entirely, but he had her. And even now, he has all those memories of her, his wife.
"You know I really think we should try to get on the same page about this whole relationship thing," he continues teasing, "yesterday you were full speed ahead and I was slamming the breaks. And now...? Now it seems to be the opposite," he laughs somewhat apologetically for his sudden change in demeanor - especially knowing exactly how overwhelming it felt for him yesterday.
He's not sure she's blinked this entire conversation.
"Do you want me to lay it all out for you?" he asks, somewhat rhetorically, mimicing her comments from the car, "Livia, I fell in love with you."
"How?" is all she can muster.
"How did I fall in love with you? I mean there are a lot of things; we'd be here all night if I went through them all. But I'm happy to do that if you want to-"
"No-" she cuts him off before his long romantic speech. He's taken aback, "-sorry, no" she continues, laughing shyly, "that's not what I meant." He smiles at her inability to communicate, just like him.
"How do you know? How did you get your certainty?" She asks inquisitively.
"Oh," he says, feeling dumb for not starting with that. But it seemed so obvious at the time, and he had to tell her how he felt, how he's felt all along, since he came back into this timeline. Not necessarily why he's finally allowed himself to feel it. "Well," he starts, "when I first go here, I used to have these incredibly vivid dreams," his eyes fall closed again but his fingers are still tracing unique shapes on her skin.
"And one time, I had a dream you were pregnant, and we were happy, just like I said yesterday," he opens one eye and looks down at her for approval. He feels her nod against him, "well I had that dream again... tonight," he admits. "And when it came time for my reality to come crashing down, for you to tell me I didn't belong," she lifts her head up, curious to see if she did something heroic, "you did," he finishes with a smile as she puts her head back down in fake disappointment. "Actually, you told me I wasn't the father of our child... ouch, Liv," he exaggerates as he squeezes her closer to him with his outside arm. "Anyway, you started to tell me to leave, and then someone was telling me to stay, and I was being pulled in and out of time, space, reality, I don't know. It turns out September showed up at the house, and he told me to stay, that this was my home." He can feel her cheek bunch against his skin as she smiles at his words, "so I got pulled, in and out, and in and out - not fun - he adds. And then I woke up and September was here, and real, and he gave me this whole speech and explanation and... yeah," he finishes, "then he left."
"So you only knew because September told you?" she asks.
"No," he responds quickly, as if he knew she would ask this question, "I actually knew when I was dreaming, before you told me to leave. I was going to tell you I was staying, that I wasn't going anywhere, because this was my home."
He continues, "but then I got pulled in and out and in every which direction and September was definitley here, so he just gave double assurance... a two for one dream-state deal," he says smiling.
"Sooo," she questions, "is this like right back to where we started? Or... finished?" she corrects herself, trying to describe this situation as best she can, "Or where we were, I guess?"
He chuckles and her head bobs up and down lightly on his chest, "yes, Liv. Is that ok?"
"Yeah," she says, a smile spreading across her face, "how are you so confident all of a sudden?"
He squeezes her to him with his outside arm and then slides down to be at her eye level. They are both lying on their sides, facing each other, "Let's just take it slow to start, ok?" he asks.
"Ok," she answers simply again, still smiling.
"Ok," he confirms, "I'm going to kiss you now," he says cheekily.
Her green eyes go bright and her smile widens, something he is ecstatic to see, even in the darkness of the room right now. He leans in, pressing his lips against hers lightly at first, and then with more passion and zeal. She increases the pressure of their skin against each other and wraps her arm around his back, pulling his chest closer to her. His leg slips between hers and she hooks her top leg over his hip. Soon they are swaying into each other, falling into sync as if they hadn't spent any time apart.
She pulls back slowly, but he keeps trying to lean in closer and kiss her more, "this is slow?" she says sarcastically.
He pulls away now too, fully able to see her eyes and judge her reaction, "um, yeah...ok, sorry," he says, seemingly having forgotten his own rule.
"It's just..." he pauses, "It's you," and he smiles at her, squeezing her into him and leaning in for another kiss. This one is laced with intensity and meaning, full of yearning for her, emotionally. He pulls away from her to gauge her response by looking into her eyes.
"It's me," she says simply and she moves in to kiss him another time... and then another. They slow their movements, soon just holding each other, skin to skin, cherishing the feeling of having the other in their arms again.
He pulls back and kisses her forehead, "let's go slow, ok?"
She looks at him and nods, content just to be wrapped in his warm embrace again.
"Have an alarm?" he asks, implying they desperately need to finish their nights sleep... and probably shouldn't allow themselves to wake up naturally, given the likelihood it would be past noon, well as least for Peter.
"Mhhmm," she nods and rolls over to set an alarm on her phone. He comes behind her, pressing his chest into her back and holding her tightly to him. She can feel his breath on the back of her neck and he can smell her lavender shampoo... he had forgotten what that smelled like.
He whispers into her hair, "G'night 'Livia," and cranes his head to kiss the side of her neck, sneaking his lips into the crook between her shoulder and her head. She shivers at the feeling of his scruffy beard tickling her sensitive skin, and replies blissfully, "Goodnight, Peter."
...
Her eyes open slowly, the light too bright for it to be evening. She squints as she studies her surroundings and soon realizes she is in her bedroom, which she has no memory of walking to. The sheets are warm, cocooning her body. She can feel an extra weight to them and as she repositions, she quickly realizes there is another body in her bed. She rolls over to face him, her smile beaming, and she rustles her fingers through his hair gently. He looks so calm, so at peace as he sleeps in her bed. She never thought she could be so dependent on someone to brighten every aspect of her life, but that's exactly what he does. He brings her peace in times of stress and worry, and he brings her joy in the hardest times. And he brings her calm, in times like these.
She tries not to wake him as she slips from the covers to go to the bathroom, but as she washes up she hears him rustling and isn't mad about returning to lie in bed with him... awake.
"God," he says, shielding his eyes from the light in the bathroom as she walks out, "do you realize what time it is?"
She tiptoes back to bed, acting innocent for waking him up. When in reality he knows she was not subtle and not kind enough to let him catch up on all the sleep he needed to. She slips under the covers and with far too much energy pulls herself to him, "yes, it's 6:30 in the morning," she says cheekily.
"Ugh," he groans, wanting to add the words 'only 6:30 in the morning' into her last sentence.
"Good morning to you, too," she says laughing at him, "did you think that I had changed... I thought you knew it was me," she teases.
He opens one eye to look at her and finds her smiling back at him, "I do know it's you, which is exactly why I am complaining that I want more sleep." His other eye is tightly shut, creases and wrinkles extending high on his cheek to block as much light from his pupil as possible.
"Ok," she says unconvinced as she watches him close both eyes again - a sad attempt at peace and quiet.
He can feel her watching him and knows the wide-awake, determined Olivia Dunham too well, "you're not going to let me go back to sleep, are you?" he asks skeptically.
"Uhh, no," she says with far too much happiness, "there's too much to catch up on."