Chapter Two: Lost In the Dark

Olivia

It probably wasn't lady like at all for her to be shooting down these shots so quickly in this place. But she couldn't care anymore. She wouldn't care. All she wanted was to drown, to drown away memories. Like she had with John, she wanted them to drown into the abyss of her mind, not to resurface. But subconsciously she knew she couldn't do that. The memories, twisted that they were, were the best she's had for a long time. Complex is an understatement, yet that described her feelings, her thoughts and the memories. The abandonment stung.

She looked down at the oak wood counter to her glass, half drained of whiskey and the light from the bar bouncing off it. Her phone sat next to it and she wanted it to ring so badly, be him or be Broyles, someone to tell her she was all right, someone to tell her he was somewhere. She hadn't slept in days, almost weeks, and she was falling apart so desperately. Being strong was becoming increasingly impossible, because her strength came from him and he was gone.

He was there when she was scared, he was there when she was hurt, he was there when she was lost, kidnapped, confused, the only one that believed her when she returned from the other world. But he was not here now and she needed him so badly. She just wanted to know that he's okay, somewhere, somehow, that he is all right. She could try to go on without him, unsure if she could, but she would try, only if she knew he was all right. Her mind would not rest without.

Her phone rang. Her heart jumped. But it was not his number on the screen. Astrid had called. She answered slowly, unhappily, as Astrid told her that Walter had fallen apart in the supermarket. All Olivia could say was that she'd be there to take him home. Walter had fallen apart in the supermarket; Olivia had fallen apart in the bar. The feeling of unfairness had settled in as she stood up, grabbing her phone and paying for her drinks. When Walter falls apart Astrid and her are there to pick him up, but when she falls apart where is he? He was the only one, the only man that could pick a broken, battered and torn Olivia Dunham up from the ground.

She climbed into the car and started it the engine turning over just a distant sound to her ears. She drove down the road like a zombie, eyes loosely focused, hands sitting perfectly on the steering wheel; driving the speed limit. She was so lost and she couldn't do anything about it. He said he'd be there; did he lie? She was not one for tears, she was so strong, but they threatened her eyes now, so close to spilling, so close to unleashing all her checked emotions. A full-blown break down. Olivia Dunham never breaks down. Olivia Dunham always had Peter Bishop to be there, to help her remain stable, his leaving hurt more than she could imagine, more than the death of Charlie, more than the death of John. She had to keep it together somehow, someway.

She turned down the street to the police station, the lights so bright and bouncing off the ground. A stoplight turned red, stopping her. It changed moments later and she drove on. She signaled and turned into the parking lot. She found a spot and turned the engine off. Everything she did was so disjointed, so strange. She saved herself from a breakdown by stepping out to get Walter. If Peter wasn't going to be strong for her, she had to become strong for someone else, she had to learn to move on, hard as it might be.

She had built herself a world with Peter. She had built herself a home within him. She'd never admit it, but every time he ever looked at her, she wanted so badly to say to him that she never wanted him to leave, that she never wanted to lose him. She would never admit it, but she loved Peter, as a friend and probably more. She called him that night when the attacker was in her house because she knew he'd come, she knew he'd protect her at all cost. His questioning her caught her off guard. Could he have ever felt the same?

But his leaving proved to her that he couldn't, that he wouldn't. It stung harshly, more than any bee sting, more than any slap. It was a large punch to the gut, the air gone. When she had pulled back his curtain in the hospital and he was gone, she should have broken down there. Because when he left he took part of herself with him, and that was too much to bear.

She drove Walter home in silence her mind mulling over everything so quickly that words probably wouldn't be possible. It was such a sad story, such a life to pity. Walter was so upset with himself, Olivia lost and unable to do anything, and Astrid stuck in there somewhere. It became past the point of just finding Peter. It became to the point of needing him, breathing him, feeling his warm arms and hearing his voice saying it'd be okay, because right now, it was not, it would never be. Walter's normal hum from the backseat did not come today nor would it likely come tomorrow. He was a mess as well, that much she could tell. He was so much more broken than he appeared. She tried to keep herself together, while he couldn't. She came to the house and turned the engine off, running her fingers through her hair and sighing. She could do this.

But she was so much worse, so much more lost and that was what she didn't know.