When Olivia's eyes fluttered open, she squeezed them back shut as a throbbing pain pounded through her head. She tried to bring her hands up to massage her temples, but one of her wrists was confined in something cold and heavy behind her back. Her eyes shot open, and she tried endlessly to pull her hand free to no avail. Alarms began wailing and flashing in her mind as she registered that she was handcuffed to a bed. Adrenaline coursed through her veins while she took in her surroundings, having absolutely no idea where she was.

Though her mind was still fuzzy, her extensive military and FBI training kicked in and she began to calm down a bit. She needed to focus. Looking around the room with fresh eyes, she noticed that she was alone in what looked like some sort of fancy hotel room. Suddenly, a face popped into her mind: Daniel. The last thing she remembered was him guiding her to a cab that was supposed to be taking her home—obviously something had interfered with that.

She brought her free hand to her pocket to pull out her cell but it was gone. Panic began to spread throughout her limbs, and she used all her willpower to stay composed. Her eyes drifted to the bedside table searching for a phone, but it seemed that everything except a small lamp had been cleared away. What the hell was going on?

Suddenly, she remembered that she still had her backup mobile tucked away in her bra. Reaching inside her shirt, she almost cried tears of joy when she pulled it out. Peter had always made fun of her for using such a strange place as a pocket, but it sure was coming in handy right now. Peter. She dialed his number by heart, and prayed that he would answer.

Peter groaned when he heard his cell phone go off and turned on the lamp by his bed. Who would be calling him this late, or rather this early? Squinting to see the name on the caller ID, he saw that it was Olivia's backup phone. He instantly sat up in bed and answered her call. She never used this phone unless something was wrong.

"Olivia?" He answered, a tad bit anxiously.

"…Peter?" She whispered. Her voice came out weak and shaky— she didn't even recognize it.

Peter's heart began to thump audibly in his chest. "Is everything okay? Where are you?"

"I— I don't know where I am. I think I might be in a hotel room. I'm alone and handcuffed to a bed," She sputtered.

Peter hopped up like his sheets were on fire and began to yank on his clothes. "What do you mean you're handcuffed to a bed? Olivia, what is going on?"

"After I left the lab last night I went to a bar and there was this guy—" Suddenly, everything began to click into place as she remembered the baneful way he'd grinned at her. "Oh God, Peter, I think he might've drugged me," She stammered.

"Olivia, listen to me. I am coming for you, okay? I'm coming. Just stay on the line with me." Peter took his phone from his ear and turned on the tracking device that he'd gotten from one of his 'weird connections' after his first few Fringe cases. He practically tumbled down the stairs and to his car, not bothering to tell Walter where he was going. The fear and desperation in her voice filled him with the most intense adrenaline rush he'd ever experienced.

"Peter?"

"I'm still here, Liv. I'm tracking your location from my phone; I'm in the car right now."

"…I—I'm so scared," she disclosed feebly.

Peter's heart was thrashing around in his chest like a moth fluttering wildly against a hot light. Olivia rarely ever got scared—she was the strongest person he'd ever known.

"I'm coming, Olivia. Everything is going to be okay." He was trying his best to keep calm for her, but wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep up the act.

Olivia's eyes shot to the door when she heard the unmistakable plod of footsteps outside. "Oh my God, Peter, I think he's here," She whispered frantically.

"Olivia, listen to me. Do not hang up."

"Peter, the door is opening."

"Olivia, do no hang up! Olivia! Olivia?"

She had stopped answering him, and now all he could hear was muffled voices. He tried his best to listen, but something was blocking the sound from coming in clearly. Then, he heard a noise that caused his insides to constrict, making him floor the gas pedal: Olivia's scream.

"Olivia, do not hang up!" Was the last thing she heard Peter say before quickly stuffing the phone under the pillow. The next instant she saw Daniel walk through the door and quietly shut it behind him. He no longer looked like that charismatic man who had charmed her into oblivion—he now had a slightly crazed look in his eyes that made beads of nervous sweat begin to form on her forehead. How could she have overlooked this? Could the alcohol really have clouded her judgment that badly? God, what had she gotten herself into?

"Olivia, glad to see you're awake," He spoke smoothly, coming to sit next to her on the bed. She cringed away from him as best as she could.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing? Take these handcuffs off of me now," She demanded. She tried to sound authoritative, but her voice came out unsteady and weak.

He laughed cruelly and leaned in closer to her. She could smell alcohol on his breath. "Now why would I want to do that? We'd have no fun if I let you go."

"If you think this is fun, then you are insane."

"Come on Olivia, loosen up a little." He trailed his fingers down her cheek and she shuddered. "This could very easily be the best night of your life if you would just relax."

Before she knew what was happening, he moved overtop of her, pinning her legs and both of her arms to the bed.

"Get off of me!" She screamed, only to be met with a stinging slap of his hand. She felt all the color drain from her face when the barrel of a gun stared her straight in the eyes.

"Scream one more time, and it will be the last sound you ever make."

When she nodded, he smiled and pulled another pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. Soon, both of her wrists were constrained above her head on the bars of the bed. She felt his searing mouth on her neck and closed her eyes, not wanting to see anything that he was going to do to her. He undid the buttons on her shirt slowly, exposing her little by little. Then his hands made their way to her breasts, squeezing them roughly over the black fabric of her bra and making her wince. He continued to grope her for a few never-ending minutes, and then his hands began to lazily make their way to the top of her slacks. She started to squirm in protest, and he slapped her again. She went limp in defeat— there was no way she was going to win this one.

The usual Olivia Dunham would put up a fight. The usual Olivia Dunham wouldn't let him get away with this. But right now, she wasn't the usual Olivia Dunham. Right now her thoughts were blurry, her body was weak, and she was having a fairly hard time keeping her eyes open. She knew she was still a bit drunk, or maybe it was the drugs he'd undoubtedly given her. Either way she just didn't have it in her to fight back. All she could do was lie there and let him have his way with her, praying that Peter would find her before things got too much worse.

Peter could no longer hear Olivia's voice, and his panic was now past the point of no return. He sped down the interstate, making his way towards the blinking red dot on his phone that signaled her location.

Realizing that he was going at least 100 MPH and wasn't in an FBI vehicle, he decided to make a quick call to Broyles to let him know what was going on.

"Broyles," the Colonel answered groggily.

"It's Peter. We have a situation with Oli—Agent Dunham."

"What kind of situation?"

"I'm not sure. She called me from her backup phone a few minutes ago. Told me she thinks a guy drugged her and took her to his motel room," Peter exclaimed, his voice getting more anxious with every word he spoke. "The last thing I heard was her scream."

"Shit. I'll get a team together. Where are you now?"

"Speeding down interstate 87 towards downtown. I tracked her phone and should get to her in about 5 minutes. Please let all authorities know not to pull me over."

"I'm on it. Keep me updated, and let me know of her location ASAP so I can alert the team."

"I will."

Peter ended the call and wished his car would go faster. He had a revolting gut feeling that something terrible was happening to Olivia, and could barely handle it. Reaching into his glove box, he pulled out his handgun and cocked it. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from ending her abductor's life.

When Peter got downtown, Olivia's signal got stronger and stronger until the flashing light became frantic. He was stopped in front of the Fifteen Beacon—the nicest, most luxurious hotel in all of Boston. Now this he hadn't been expecting.

Practically parking his car in the middle of the street, he ran to the entrance and burst through the doors. Olivia's blinking dot got even stronger. He looked around frenziedly until he spotted the front desk and ran to it. Behind the desk was a kid in his mid-twenties who glared at Peter skeptically when he practically lurched towards the counter.

"I'm with the FBI. I'm looking for a blonde woman about 30 years old. She would've been with a man, and possibly passed out or delirious. It should've happened within the last 4 or 5 hours."

"May I see your credentials?"

Damn it. "I don't have them with me right now. Look, kid. This woman is in danger, and if I don't get to her soon, God knows what could happen."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't give you that information without seeing your badge. It's against the—" Peter didn't even let him finish his sentence before reaching behind the desk and gathering the front of his shirt into a tight fist.

"If you have any information on the whereabouts of the woman I just described, then you better tell me or I swear to God—"

"Okay, okay I think I saw who you are looking for," He squeaked in fear. "Just please don't hurt me and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Peter immediately released the kid and waited for him to share his knowledge.

"About 2 hours ago a guy came in carrying a blonde woman who matches your description. He'd lost the key to his room so he asked for a new one. He was in room 419."

Peter turned and sprinted towards the elevator the second he heard the room number leave the kid's mouth, dialing Broyles's number on the way up.

Olivia felt Daniel's hands slowly undoing her belt, elongating her agony. Suddenly she felt a draft move across her legs, and it registered that he had completely removed her pants in one fluid motion. Her breathing became shallow and quick as his mouth teased the inside of her thighs, moving closer to her sensitive flesh with every painful nip of his teeth. She tried her best to fill her mind with happy thoughts to distract herself from what was happening, but it didn't work. No pleasant thought could surpass the horror that was Daniel.

When his hands reached the top of her panties, she gritted her teeth and prepared herself. All at once, the door burst open with a loud bang. She heard the shot of a gun and the smack of a body hitting the floor, suddenly feeling cold air where Daniel's tormenting mouth had been only seconds before. Daring herself to open her eyes, her gaze fell on Peter's distraught form standing in the entryway with a smoking gun in his outstretched hands. The second their eyes met, he dropped the firearm and stumbled his way over to her.

"Jesus Christ," He muttered to himself as he kneeled by her side. Seeing Olivia in such a vulnerable and rattled state made him feel like throwing up. Yet, what unnerved him the most was the look of surrender in her eyes—she'd been planning on letting that bastard have his way with her because she'd had no other choice. If Peter would've been even a minute later… he didn't even want to think about what could've—would've—happened.

He pulled out a pocketknife from his jacket and began to pick the locks on the handcuffs. Without warning, Olivia felt her shock begin to wear off, and started to hyperventilate. She began to writhe and struggle against the handcuffs, needing out of them in that instant.

"I've almost got them, Liv," He assured as serenely as he could. Peter felt tears sting his eyes as he watched the horror of her situation began to wash over her. He worked as quickly and deftly as he could, but handcuff locks weren't the easiest to pick.

A few minutes later he finally freed both of her hands and instantaneously scooped her into his arms. She clung fervently to his shirt and buried her face into his neck. She was shuddering so violently that Peter had to make sure she wasn't having a seizure.

"I've got you. You're safe now," He whispered tranquilly in her ear, rocking her back and forth on the bed. She was in his arms. She was safe. He needed to say the words for himself as much as he needed to say them for her. It felt like the weight of the world was being lifted off of his shoulders as he sat there holding her. He could finally breathe again.

Olivia nestled herself into Peter and breathed his scent in deeply. It was so comforting and familiar, calming her nerves and slowing her racing heartbeat.

Out of the blue a large team of FBI agents came swarming into the room, all of them stopping in their tracks when their eyes locked on Peter and Olivia. Peter motioned to Daniel's motionless body on the ground beside the bed, and they rolled him away on a stretcher. Lucky for Daniel, Peter had decided to shoot him in the shoulder, only causing him to pass out in pain. Peter wanted to make sure the bastard got a piece of his mind before he went straight to hell.

When one of the agents tried to help Olivia onto a stretcher, her breathing began to quicken again, her grip on Peter's shirt tightening.

"Thanks, but I'll take it from here," Peter insisted. The agent nodded and went to find a new task to take care of. Peter knew there would be countless questions that would need answering, but all that mattered to him in that moment was getting Olivia to a hospital. Who knew what the fucker had drugged her with?

When all of the agents were out of the room, Peter tried to pull her away from him, but she wouldn't budge.

"Liv, it's only you and I in this room. Everyone else is gone," He soothed. "Let me help you get dressed."

He felt her hold on him loosen, and drew her away to lean her against the headboard. He found her pants at the foot of the bed and handed them to her. She took them from him silently and put them on, then buttoned her shirt impassively. After she was clothed she felt tears sting her eyes, and her face fell into her hands.

"Oh God, Peter, what have I done?" Olivia cried, utterly ashamed of herself.

The anger she'd felt towards Peter had completely dissipated the second she'd heard his anxious voice on the other line of her cell phone. She had no doubt in her mind that he genuinely cared about her, his heroic rescue proving it beyond a doubt. She knew she'd overreacted at the lab, and her dramatized response to prove a foolish point had landed her drugged and handcuffed to a bed. How could she have been so rash?

Peter was stunned beyond belief at her words. "Olivia you didn't do anything wrong. None of this was your fault. Do you hear me?" He took her face in is hands and brought it up to lock his gaze to hers. "None of this was your fault."

She wanted to tell Peter the truth about why she'd gone to the bar in the first place, but didn't have the heart. No matter how much she'd try to convince him otherwise, she knew he would blame himself for what happened to her. She just couldn't put that heavy of a burden on his shoulders. He would never forgive himself—she knew him far too well. Instead, she fell right back into his arms.

"I just want to go home, Peter. I want out of this room."

"Before I take you home you are going to the hospital. No argument."

As much as she hated the thought of going to the hospital, she knew it was a good idea. She had no clue what drugs were traveling through her system and mixing with the abundance of alcohol she'd consumed.

Peter helped her to her feet, but her knees gave out as soon as weight was put on them. She felt helpless and frustrated not being able to do something as simple as walking, but Peter swept her up easily into his arms and carried her to his car.

The whole way to the hospital Olivia was silent. She was relieved that Peter didn't try to push for a conversation or an inquisition. He just held her hand tenderly, which was exactly what she needed. Sometimes the simplest things meant much more than words ever could.

When they got to the hospital, Peter carried her into the ER and got her checked in. As she sat in a chair and watched him fill out her paperwork at the counter, she realized that he knew so much about her that he could fill out her personal documents without having to ask her a thing. He really did know her better than anyone else.

After finishing her paperwork he came and sat next to her. She was curled up in an uncomfortable looking chair, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked so small and frail—nothing like the Olivia Dunham he knew and cared about so deeply. He placed his hand on her back and rubbed it lightly, trying his best to sooth her tense body.

Spontaneously, Olivia began to feel extremely dizzy. Her head felt like someone had filled it with lead and her eyelids became impossible to keep open, all of the strength and energy in her body vanishing. No longer able to hold herself up, she collapsed into Peter's lap.

"Olivia?" Peter questioned. He shook her body, but she didn't respond. "Olivia?" He spoke a little louder, panic taking over when he realized she was unconscious. Bringing his fingers to her neck, relief flooded over him when he felt her pulse. She was still breathing, but it was shallow and weak. Folding her into his arms, he carried her out of the waiting room and burst through the doors that lead to the actual ER.

"Help! I need help! She's unconscious!" Peter screamed in the middle of the hallway. An abundance of nurses rushed over to him and placed Olivia on a stretcher. As they wheeled her away, Peter chased after them, not about to let her out of his sight. When they reached an empty room, they veered her in. Peter tried to follow behind her but one of the nurses stopped him.

"Sir, do you have any idea why she might've fallen unconscious?" She asked.

"I'm pretty sure she was drugged, but I'm not sure with what."

"Why was she drugged?"

Peter almost screamed at her to go read the paperwork he'd just filled out, but stopped himself, knowing that probably wouldn't be the best thing to do if he wanted Olivia to get help as soon as possible.

"She was taken against her will by some son of a bitch at a bar. I have no idea what he did to her. I just—can I please go into the room with her?" Peter didn't want to answer any more questions. All he wanted was to see with his own eyes that Olivia was okay.

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to head back into the waiting room. I will have someone come and get you after we examine…"

"Olivia. Her name is Olivia. Please, you have to let me stay. I won't get in the way, I promise. Please," Peter begged.

The nurse eyed him empathetically and sighed. "Are you a family member?"

Peter knew the only way she was going to let him stay was if he was somehow related to her. He was going to have to lie. "She's my fiancée."

"Alright, you can stay. But you're going to need to stand in the back of the room until further notice," She instructed.

"That's fine. Thank you so much." Without hesitation, Peter entered the room and stood against the back wall. They had given Olivia an IV and were checking her vitals, which fortunately looked healthy according to the monitor. The nurse he'd just finished talking to came and informed the others of her possible drug intake, and they immediately drew her blood for further testing.

Olivia's skin was pale and clammy, her face distraught as if she was having a terrifying nightmare she couldn't wake up from. He wanted so badly to be by her side. Why did this have to happen to Olivia—the most ethical, compassionate, amazing person he'd ever known? She didn't deserve this. She had dedicated her life to helping other people, and this was what she'd gotten in return?

Peter had never hated himself more than he did in that moment. On top of being taken against her will, drugged, and God knows what else, he had deeply hurt her with his careless words in the lab. Even though it seemed like she wasn't angry with him anymore, that didn't change the fact that he'd caused her pain. There was also a chance that once the intensity of the situation wore off she'd hate him again. Still, he made a silent promise that he would spend the rest of his life making sure nothing like this ever happened to her again, regardless if she liked him or not.

"Sir? It's okay for you to go sit by her now. She's still unconscious, but you shouldn't be worried. Her vitals are strong," the nurse assured him, interrupting his mournful reverie. Peter thanked her and pulled up a chair next to Olivia's bedside. He took her limp hand in his, and for the first time, realized how dainty it was. Her skin was so soft and fragile, similar to a child's. Peter had never perceived any aspect of Olivia as fragile—not until tonight. He'd always seen her as the invincible heroine, forgetting to take into account that she was still a woman with feelings and emotions—feelings and emotions that he'd hurt.

Brushing her hair from her face, he lightly trailed his knuckles from her forehead to her chin. He felt an unusual wetness in his eyes, and was shocked when a tear dripped down his cheek. He was…crying. Peter sniffed and wiped the moisture from his face—it had been years since he'd cried.

Taking her hand in his, he leaned down until he was mere inches away from her ear. "I'm so sorry, Olivia," he whimpered. " I'm so sorry."

He laid his head down on the mattress of Olivia's bed, physically and mentally drained, and was asleep in less than a second.