The stairway to the shelter had been completely buried by the blizzard. Peter had to make a snow tunnel to get in and out, always making sure to cover the entryway to keep out any intruders.

It had been a risky tiresome day. He was not too surprised to find that the traps throughout the abandoned apartment had caught more rats than usual. Everyday, Peter had to clean out the traps of the dead and lay them out just to keep as many rats out of the way as possible.

He went to his comfort zone, the bedroom in the far back, and sat next to the lump of blankets and pillows that had been resting there. He placed a hand over and watched the lump move and turn, until finally a pale face peaked out from under the blankets and was looking back at him listlessly.

Peter smiled. "Good morning, Sunshine."

Olivia mumbled. "Don't kid with me. I know it's night."

"How do you know when you've been in stuck in bed every single day since we've been here?"

"I just do. You took forever by the way."

Peter sighed. "I know. It's just getting harder and harder to be out there."

He pulled one of her arms out from under the blankets. Just when it seemed that Olivia was on her way toward a recovery she had to get a rat bite. At that point she just wanted to give in to the inevitable but she was too weak to fight with someone like Peter. She wasn't supposed to last this long, not after being connected to CRONUS. No one was supposed to survive something like that. But she had challenged William Bell, challenged the supercomputer, and now she was left with nothing but physical and mental pain. She just wanted all to end.

She bit her lip as Peter removed the bandage from her arm. Anti-septic was torture on her open wound and she hated how sensitive she had become to the pain. She could hear Peter mutter "sorry" under his breath.

"So, I'm guessing it worked?"

Peter smiled. "Hey, I told those guys that I learned from the best but they didn't believe me."

"Well it's not easy for everyone to learn how to count cards."

"Everyone's not like you, though."

Olivia smirked. Even with all the terrible stuff that's happened she still had a sense of humor…one of few little strategies she had to cope with their difficult situation.

"Did you learn anything new?"

"Didn't have time to," explained Peter. Aside from gathering food and supplies, Peter also tried gathering information about this strange twisted reality that they had returned to. Given all the damage to the city, something really horrible must have happened. They had to be careful and pretend as though they were citizens of this reality all along. For all they knew, they were still considered criminals for their siege on Westwood.

Food stocks were decent enough that Peter didn't have to go out. For those days he was glad because there would nothing left to do but to stay in bed with Olivia.

It was an unusual arrangement but one that ensured Olivia's survival. She needed the extra body heat that Peter willingly provided but it only made their relationship a little more awkward now. She thought perhaps, it shouldn't matter. If they ever got out alive, then she would look back on this in embarrassment. But now she was too weak to deal with anything.

And their living conditions were getting moldy. Not good for Olivia's condition. She knew she didn't have a choice, as it was Peter's call. It was time for them to move out and find some place safer. Olivia was going to have her first taste of the nomad life. The kind Peter once lived before they would cross paths in their adulthood.

The clerk from the trading post was right to have been suspicious about Peter having bought a foldable wheelchair the day before he and Olivia would finally depart. They didn't have much food but they did have what every person needed more in the post-apocalyptic world: guns.

So far they only had a revolver and a hunting rifle to start. Hopefully they could obtain more with time.

Peter carried Olivia to the surface and her eyes laid waste to the cream colored snow for the first time. Her first thought that this could not be snow. It had to be some sort of toxin in the clouds that could allow such a twisted act of nature. It definitely had the makings of Walter or Bell's work at hand.

Peter gently placed her in the wheelchair and gave her the revolver to place somewhere in the many layers of coats and blankets she wore.

"Any monsters we should be worried about?" she asked him.

"Just a few rabid squirrels foaming at the mouth."

"Very funny."

The blizzard had been reduced to moderate but irritable winds as Peter pushed the wheelchair through the snow-barren streets. Olivia was not surprised as how many times they had to stop because the wheelchair got stuck. She would protest but Peter was stubborn, the most stubborn man she ever knew, and he wasn't going to listen to any command that would involve leaving her behind.

After nearly a day of traveling, they arrived in an area that resembled Cambridge. Many buildings were still intact in this part of town. There were even work cars driving up and down the streets. As they got closer to an area of apartment complexes, they discovered people. The entire area had been fenced. The complex had become a civilian survivors camp.

Olivia didn't think it was a good idea to go to the survivors' camp, but Peter was insistent that it was her best chance. They could blend in…maybe find a doctor that could help her.

They were quickly stopped by a guard at the entrance. "Hold it! This is an able-body camp only. We're not taking in any sick or dying."

"My wife is just crippled," Peter bluffed. "She'll get better."

"With all due respect, sir. She looks a helluva lot more than crippled. You might as well dump her in a dead pit now cause you're wasting time here."

Peter made one slight step toward the man but Olivia managed to tug his coat. "Just forget it, Peter. Let's go."

They turned away and traveled away from the civilian areas, into the unknown. It was dangerous for the two of them to be out in the open like this but where were they to go? Peter was cursing himself for not having a plan. He should've done some exploring around for a new shelter before getting Olivia involved.

It was getting dark. Their visions were near blinding when they came upon an abandoned series of strange but familiar buildings. Windows were boarded up everywhere but one particular building caught Peter's eye and he started pushing the wheelchair forward.

Olivia became alarmed. "Where are we going?"

"Just trust me on this."

He got them up a wheelchair ramp and then began breaking down the wooden boards covering a large glass door.

The place huge but cluttered and had an unusual odor. Peter was starting to think maybe this was a mistake.

"This use to be a hospital?" asked Olivia.

"Yeah, I think it's the Harvard Medical School…er their version of it anyway."

"What are we doing here?"

"What do you think?" Peter then picked Olivia up and carried her down the darkened hallways. She was very confused until he placed her in the hospital bed of one of the patient rooms. "I know you don't like needles," Peter said bringing an IV pole over to the bed. "But we should give this a shot."

Luck was with them. Peter managed to find a fresh bag of IV and a battery-powered pump. It was the closest Olivia was going to get to expert hospital care. She would have to accept this.

"Good job, doctor."

"Thanks," said Peter. "But just so you know, I didn't take any med classes when I was at M.I.T."

The hospital was better than the apartment without doubt. But it was far more dangerous. Peter stayed in the room with Olivia every minute he could. He spent the nights sitting on a chair by the doorway with the rifle close at hand.

The IV seemed to be helping Olivia. There was a bit of color to her face and a little more meat on her bones with each passing day. She could move her arms and legs more but it would still be a while before she could start really moving on her own.

Until then, things in that hospital room remained dark and quiet. And Peter knew why.

"When are you going to talk to me?"

"Talk to you about?"

"You know…what you remember…about back then. You said you remembered everything now."

"I know," said Olivia. "I…I just can't."

Peter sighed. "Then it really was bad?"

Olivia wasn't going to say anymore on the subject. As much as she wanted to scream it and just get it out, Peter wouldn't look at her the same if he knew…she had kill her own father. Sure she was 4 and had no idea what she was doing. But what if it happened again? What if she caused another innocent person's head to explode over something she had no control over? And what if that next innocent person happened to be Peter?

It wasn't healthy in Peter's mind, for Olivia to be like this but she had been through enough. He had no right to force anything out of her. Some days, there wouldn't be a single word between them. On those days, he would pull a chair up to Olivia's bedside and just hold her hand.

It was just too bad the hospital bed wasn't big enough for him to crawl in and join her as she slept.

He rarely got any sleep himself keeping watch at night. Everything seemed like an illusion to him. He heard unusual scuffling and after a few seconds, Peter finally became alert and threw the door open. He couldn't see anything but he could hear it.

Peter then realized he was having difficulty standing up. This wasn't from lack of sleep at all. And that noise he was hearing was no intruder.

It was a rumbling noise.

The whole hospital continued to shake much harder.