Author's Note: No, this isn't an April fool's joke, folks, I'm back with a new chapter! Apologies once again for the delay, stupid real life and all… *grumbles aimlessly* with that I present chapter 4! Took me a while to get it juuuust right! Reviews are wonderful as always!

A Change of Heart

Over Here

Liberty Island
Three hours ago…

There was only one word that would come to mind whenever she thought about it- thought about her time Over There; it was three long, dark months of fear, twisted pain, of dreamless nights, numb extremities, raw, broken skin and blood soaked garments. It was one word that had made Olivia Dunham cringe with disgust, one word that had always been the pinnacle of her existence, to know her capture was based on a single human principle that had been the driving force most of the wars throughout history. It was what killed mothers, brothers, sons, nieces and tore families apart. It was one word that shattered her in an instant and brought her trembling to her knees.

Revenge.

The simplistic idea of bringing harm and pain to one by the ways of another was a satanic thought she had spent much time thinking about. Why was she, of all people to bring pain to, chosen for this specific task? Sure Walternate wanted to hurt Peter, to make his suffer the way he had by taking someone he loved- but Peter didn't know she was there. So what exactly was her purpose? That single, solemn proposition was the question plaguing her mind each and every night before she would collapse of exhaustion and emotion. It wasn't until the third spinal tap did they extract the cortexiphan from her system, the true treasure in the hidden cavern of her mind, that she truly understood her reasoning.

The first thing she always remembered was the taste; it was a thick, crude oily texture with an acidic-metallic tingle that made her body burn with a fiery fear of anticipation. Needle after needle, injection after injection has turned her blood thin with corrosion and black with corruption as they pumped more chemicals into her veins. Next always came the pain; hurtful at first, but eventually it turned her whole body numb to the world around her. Even the coolness of her bench, her sanction away from it all in her tiny matchbox of a cell had eventually become foreign. Her back always ached; her skin torn from being dragged across the unforgiving ground had left scars on her outer soul that she had been trying to erase.

She had been doing anything and everything possible to avoid coming back to this place, to forget those memories. But with the addition of the next case to her resume, all those awful months began to slip back into her mind. It was something incredibly familiar about her stance and the rising fear that began to curl its wiry fingers around her neck and choke her.

Despite the warmth of the surrounding night Olivia shuttered uncontrollably. Icy goose bumps began to crowd the flesh of her arms as she kept her eyes closed and fought to control a sudden spell of ragged breathing and panicked anxiety that had slowly been creeping down her spine ever since she set her sights on Liberty Island- her Liberty Island. What had once stood before her as a monument to peace and freedom now represented an experience she associated with fear, pain, apprehension and injustice.

Her fingernails dug into the small stone wall in front of her as the dizziness and nausea began to creep up her throat and made her mind fuzzy. In a different universe she had stood in this spot before, staring helplessly at the illuminated New York skyline. In the distance she heard the angry voices of guards, the flashing of unfriendly white flash lights and the howling bark of savage dogs as they chased her. Her skin began to singe, the crooks of her arms burn as the unforgiving memories of jagged, hot needles and unforgiving restraints began to slice through her. They were memories she had been working so hard to forget; her time Over There as a prisoner of universal war.

"Hey, you okay?" Olivia's eyes snapping open to find her unsung hero, her anchor, and her way home standing next to her with curious blue eyes. She hadn't even realized he was there. A moment ago it was just her alone with her thoughts. With his hand on her shoulder, concern flashed in Peter's eyes. "Liv, you look like you've just seen a ghost."

In a way she did see a ghost, the apparition of herself that she had worked so hard to leave behind, the one standing on the edge of oblivion with no way out. "I'm fine," she answered dryly, hoping he wouldn't see the paleness in her cheeks and the fear in her eyes. Wiping the cold sweat from her brow she quickly changed the subject. "Did the guards say anything different?"

Peter rolled his eyes at her avoidance. "They all have the same story. Around one in the morning they were doing rounds around the perimeter. Not too long after they heard a crashing sound and saw a pale red flash, then what sounded like splashes. At first they thought a boat crashed into the rocks, but found nothing when they went to investigate."

"So then what makes this a Fringe case?" she asked, trying to hide the shaking in her voice.

Peter sighed and leaned over the stone railing, his hands dangling over the edge. "It doesn't make this a Fringe case." He became quiet for a moment, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and turned his attention back towards her. Something had thrown her armor back on; the carefree, flirty woman he had been on a plane with only hours ago was gone, replaced by the stone faced, high shouldered Agent Dunham he had known too well. Catching her breath again Olivia followed his stance and dipped her chin to her chest. "Liv," he said, a velvet octave lower and took her frozen hand in his, "What's wrong? You've been on edge ever since we got here."

"Nothing," she whispered and shrugged nonchalantly, averting her gaze to the city skyline and quickly slipped her hands in her pockets. "Just… little freaky déjà vu, I think. Its fine, Peter," she forced a smile and rose a reassuring hand to his cheek and gave him her best doe-eyed expression she could muster, the one that always made his heart melt. "I'm fine, really."

He said nothing for a few moments; instead he engaged himself in reading every line in her lip, every crease in her cheeks. Slowly he smiled. Lacing his fingers through hers he placed a gentle kiss on her hand and pulled her away from the wall. "Okay then. Just… don't do that, that thing when you look like you're about to bolt. It's weird."

"You're always a little weird," she bantered back and forced another fake smile towards him, giving Peter a slight shove. Seeing the drop in his shoulders had brought her defense down slightly in knowing the conversation prior was to be dropped. Peter was always good for that.

For the remainder of the early morning their crews worked diligently to decipher what had happened and what had brought Fringe Division out to Liberty Island, but in the end they had found nothing of sorts to make sense. Perhaps it was a boat that hit the rocks; it had happened more often than one would think. Still they had to be sure. After a few hours rest, it was decided, Massive Dynamic would be next on their list before officially closing the case.

With Broyles' blessing the team headed back to the mainland and to a hotel the FBI had booked for them- one of the many benefits of working for the government Peter always joked. It was close to seven o'clock when Peter, Olivia, Astrid and Walter parted ways into their respective rooms; Walter and Astrid with adjoining rooms and Peter and Olivia down the hallway. Sleep had always been a rare commodity in their line of work, but the second Peter's head hit the pillow he was out, lulled to sleep by the luscious, thick black-out curtains.

They never talked about it- her time over there, mainly because she didn't want to. Peter had felt guilty enough about what had happened with the other Olivia, and knowing this she couldn't bear to place another burden on him; that while he slept soundly, tucked beneath the comforts of her bed, she was strapped to a slab and forced to be guinea pig to Walternate's experiments. Had Peter known she knew it would tear him apart. Sure, he would occasionally ask about a scar he hadn't seen before but she had had enough traumas in her life to think of a quick cover story.

Beside her Peter rolled over and shifted towards her, his arm crossing over her hips to bring her body closer to his sleep-driven one. She let him easily mold himself to her, his knees taking shape behind hers, his bare chest pressed against her shoulders and his lips shadowed across her the back of her neck as she felt him smile against her skin. Olivia swallowed and sighed, trying to once again block the nightmares from her vision.

Gripping Peter's hand tighter she closed her eyes and anchored herself to him, praying for yet another dreamless sleep to overtake her, and to awake to a world where things were always a little brighter, a little lighter, and as she believed, to be full of promise.

New York City
Nightfall

The resemblance was just too uncanny.

They must have looked like tourists, Lincoln decided, as they gawked at the sights surrounding them for the last two miles they walked. It was exactly like their city, like his New York, their shattered New York; He had imagined this world to be incredibly different and yet the smallest tweaks were that caught their attention first. As they walked down Times Square the first thing that caught his eye was the large LCD screen of the Coca-cola emblem. On his side it was Pepsi. The M&M's store wasn't on his side; they had a Skittles store instead. Majority of the advertised Broadway shows were the same- with the exception of the every-curious Cats that had made Charlie scratch his head with a profound curiosity. The more present aspect was the absence of the World Trade Center, taken in the attack almost ten years ago, he guessed. Minus a few details, it was almost an exact replica of home.

Another oddity was the buses. There was no Show Me required, just a simple dollar insertion that had puzzled Lincoln to no end. What was the point of giving a dollar to ride the bus, one that smelled like rotten cheddar to be exact? There were no check points, no entry swipes for people to check into. Hailing a taxi was as simple as flashing a few twenties out the window. He hadn't seen a physical key since he was in elementary school but the object was everywhere- on the buses, cars, subway platforms, the mere lack of technology was purely breathtaking. How did these people survive in a world without checkpoints, without clean cars to prevent pollution of the airways and functional toilets that weren't clogged and marked up by troubled teens? Sure, their side has their fair share of crime but their kids were much more respectable than these ones.

For hours they roamed the warm, musty streets of the city in search for anything- anyone that could help them track down and connect with the other Olivia. Charlie had remembered Olivia saying something about the FBI's Fringe Division and their operations; that their division here wasn't nearly as prominent as theirs back home. Charlie knew, on his side, the FBI had ceased to exist almost fifteen years prior. The fact it was a still a prominent figure here was fascination. As they trekked towards a possible destination he couldn't believe the lack of notices he hadn't seen. It had come to a point now where Charlie could almost verbatim recite the location of their gigantic, and in his opinion, rather tacky Fringe Division posters.

"This is impossible," Lincoln muttered as they sat down on a bench in Central Park and sighed into his hands, "We've scoured what feels like this entire city and we haven't found anything to help us get in contact with her. On top of that I'm starving, my feet are killing me, and I smell like the inside of my grandmother's closet."

Charlie chuckled, "But mothballs suit you so well, Lincoln, gives you that rustic, manly scent." Shooting daggers at him, Charlie shut his mouth immediately. "I know I'm getting discouraged too but this is only one day that we've been here, Linc."

"One day further away from finding help, Charlie, don't forget that. Our people are relying on us to find help, to find hope. It's our only way to find Liv."

Charlie remained quiet for a moment and bit his lip at his next question. "Lincoln we don't even know if she's still-"

"Don't say it!" hollered Lincoln, tears in his eyes and stood, his finger pointing at Charlie. "Don't you even think of saying it, Charlie," his voice shook as tears welled in his eyes, a waterfall he had been fighting to retain. "I know she's still alive, I can feel it. Just because everyone else has given up on her doesn't mean I will," he said between gritted teeth. "We just need more time."

"Everything alright here, fellas?" came a husky voice. Standing in front of Charlie and Lincoln stood a police officer, his hands perched precariously on his belt, his lips pressed and an eyebrow raised.

A sudden light bulb flashed in Lincoln's mind. "Yes, but on a side note, can you help us with something?" The officer nodded as Lincoln flashed his waterlogged badge. "We're FBI Agents Lee and Francis, we're working on a case and it seems we've hit a little car trouble a few blocks away. Any chance you can give us a lift back to headquarters?"

The officer squinted at his badge. "Fringe Division? What branch of the FBI is that? I've never heard of it."

Charlie stood, taking Lincoln's cue. "You wouldn't. We're a special division. Can you help us out or not?"

The officer smiled through his mustache. "Anything for the FBI. Come on, I'll give you a lift."

Smiling towards Lincoln, Charlie began to walk forward as Lincoln let his shoulders down. Where there's a will, there's a way, he decided.

Their way, he knew, had finally been made.

Barringer Hotel
New York City
9:30pm

With muffled footsteps down the hallway Peter sighed, his arms cradling their dinner as he slipped the hotel key out of his pocket. Normally on nights like these the four of them would grab dinner together to relax, reflect and on many occasions, to forget the mishaps of the day. But this… this was something else. He couldn't remember the last time he saw Olivia as shaken up as she was at the Island earlier that day. It wasn't as simple as feeling a bit uneven, hell; they all had days like this. But this, he mused, this was something different; something had scared Olivia back into her shell to a point where she refused to leave even their hotel room until it was time to fly home. Even when they were at Massive Dynamic to speak with Nina she was quiet and withdrawn. Nina had pointed it out as well that something was off kilter, that the spring in Olivia's step had suddenly turned to concrete and had her rooted back towards the ground.

He has always respected her privacy and her choice to keep some secrets and emotions locked up, but this was, for lack of a better word, different, he felt. It wasn't something that had reminded her of her childhood, or the abuse from her stepfather, no- something had literally changed inside her and that was enough to made Peter believe even more that something happened Over There, more than what Olivia had actually told him- rather what she wanted to tell him. He could see it in her eyes, though, an unfamiliar glow of an absolutely paralyzing fear.

"Liv?" Peter called as he closed the door and set the bag on the table. The room was dark, with the exception of a small line of light coming from the bedroom; a pale blue light illuminated the way, a beacon of sorts calling him to her. Setting the bags down on the table he followed suit and found her sitting on the bed, knees curled into her chest, head resting against the backboard, and her eyes gazing carelessly out across the city skyline. Peter stopped for a moment and froze as he sighed, leaning against the door frame.

Surprisingly, she chuckled, her voice cracked and low. "You know those days you have where you feel like you've been there before, that weird feeling of déjà vu that sets in, and you just know in the pit of your stomach you've been there before?" She swallowed, "I had that feeling, except I did stand there before."

"The night you escaped," he nodded and crossed his arms, "I remember. Liv, you can tell me."

As always, she diverted slightly from his question with an expected silence. Minutes passed before she spoke again, her words soft and husky. "I guess I never expected to be standing in that spot again," she confessed, her neckline painted a milky blue from the window, "To be staring at the same skyline with the fear of not finding my way home, and… it scared me a little." Walking slowly over towards the bed Peter sat down in front of her, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes. "Okay, so it scared me a lot."

Peter bowed his head, realizing where she was going with this. Sighing, he scooted closer and resting his arms on her knees. It was rare moments where Olivia would clue him into what she was thinking, what she was feeling and they were moments he cherished. "I glimmered before, didn't I?" he asked in a low register. She pressed her lips together and nodded once.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she turned her soft eyes towards him. It was amusing, she thought, just how good he had become at deciphering the tells of her body language. "How'd you guess?"

He returned her half-moon grin. "I've seen that look in your eyes before; those round, sad, fearful puppy dog eyes when I glimmer. It's why I didn't push the issue before, when you looked like you were about to bolt." Peter paused, licking his lips. "How are you doing now?"

Olivia licked her bottom lip and sighed. "I think I'm okay. It was a little overwhelming at first but its gotten better."

Taking her hands in his Peter kissed her palms. "Like I told you, Olivia, you won't have to go through this by yourself. It's not going to go away after a few months. You've got Rachel, Ella, Astrid, Walter," he cupped her cheeks, stroking the corners of her lips, "And you've got me. We've got each other. When you're ready we'll talk about it."

She smiled, her eyes shadowed by the night atmosphere. Leaning forward slowly, in the comforting dark of the evening light, she kissed him, soft and true; it was her silent way to saying thank you, and a response Peter had always cherished. To see her in this state- this intense, incredibly raw vulnerability was rare, and a moment he never took for granted. Wrapping her whole body into his chest he pressed her lips again and slowly pulled her down into the sheets, curling against her. She chuckled gently as he nibbled on her ear, muttering sweet words of comfort and compassion before returning to her lips.

As if on cue her phone began to buzz on the side table, making Peter sighed and press his forehead to her neck. She smiled and reached across the bed. "Dunham," she answered. Unlike the many times before there was no voice, causing her to crunch her eyebrows together in curiosity. "Hello?" she asked again.

"Olivia?"

In all the years Peter had been around her he couldn't remember seeing the color drain from her face so quickly, leaving her rosy cheeks an eerie alabaster white and her mouth run dry. It was that voice, the one she hadn't expected to hear again since she came home, the sound of a man she had seen leave twice in her life. Slowly she opened her mouth to breathe as she gripped the lapels on Peter's shirt, a single word uttered from her silent lips.

"… Charlie?"

FBI Headquarters
10:30pm

It wasn't quite the welcome Lincoln had pictured in his mind, or the response he had hoped for. His head throbbed from where his body was smashed into the granite floor; his wrists still stung from the unforgiving handcuffs that latched his fingers together and the throb in the side of his chest as enough to make a simple task like breathing even more painful. Stripped of his credentials and his weapons, he sighed. Sure, maybe he was expecting a friendly hug- perhaps a hand shake or two, even and the hospitality from this side, much like his Olivia had explained it to be.

No. This side, he decided, was nothing like his. Sure, when they walked into the FBI headquarters he had figured it would be as easy as asking for Olivia's phone number and giving her a call. Hell it had been easy up until that point. After Charlie hung up he figured this plan was successful- until they had guns aimed at them. Have Charlie call her, he mused- a familiar voice that could be his entry into getting her to help. But like many times before, that plan backfired violently into his face.

How was he supposed to know the Charlie Francis on this side was dead? The Olivia from Over Here gave no indication of that when she began working as his Olivia, none whatsoever to make him believe the relationship Over Here was any different. He was starting to suspect something had gone wrong when the loud voices became hushed and agents began to circle them like buzzards around road kill. It wasn't until he was smashed into the ground cuffed and kicked that he notice her standing before him, a look of both astonishment and disbelief clouded over those incredibly beautiful green eyes.

For a moment he forgot- he forgot that this wasn't his Olivia and was going to ask her to get these morons off of him. But in that second his reality came crashing back as soon as Peter Bishop came to stand at her side, making Lincoln remember exactly where he was. It was foreign territory and he was caught behind enemy lines with no reinforcements to come rescue him.

Standing across the interrogation room, lost within the dark corners of the walls, Olivia sighed. She hadn't said a word since she entered, simply stared at him, deep in thought. The expression on her face; the sadness in her eyes, the apprehension in her jaw, and the curiosity in her body language were all something he had been trying to decipher since she walked in and took residence against the wall.

Was it anger he saw in her eyes? Hatred? Fear? Disgust?

No, he decided.

It was confusion, astonishment. Disbelief.

"Are you going to say something?" he finally asked with a ping of urgency and annoyance. "Or are you going to simply stand there and devour me layer by layer? I didn't come here to just be stared at and throw into a prison cell."

"So then what did you come here for?" she asked slowly, taking Lincoln by surprise. He had half expected her to be up front, to be intense, interrogating him about why he was here, not asking for what purpose.

He sighed. "I came here to find you, Olivia, to ask for your help." He tried to hide the quiver in his voice.

"Your side is supposed to be dead," she blurted out with a cruelty Lincoln hadn't expected. He shivered in this seat at the coldness of her voice. "That was the purpose of the machine, was to destroy one universe to save the other. Obviously that plan has changed. So the question that now remains is what do you want, Agent Lee?" she asked, softer this time.

He sighed. "Like I said, I came here to ask for your side's help. My side is dying, my people are dying. Whatever you did to us, it didn't completely destroy us as you hoped, as you dreamed," he felt his blood boil as he spoke between gritted teeth. "We are very much alive."

"Why should I believe you, Agent Lee? How do I know this isn't just some tactical deploy to try and destroy us?" she asked heatedly.

Lincoln grunted. "You need to trust me. I wouldn't come over here-"

"If you didn't want something," she retorted heavily. "So answer me this. How did you survive? That machine wiped everything clean."

Lincoln sighed and dipped his head in frustration. "I don't know. The wave came without warning." The memory of holding Henry in his arms and pushing Marilyn into the cellar echoed before him. "I was… doing a favor for a friend when it hit. We were lucky enough to get below ground when the first wave obliterated the city. Those who were above ground weren't so lucky. I don't know what happened, truly I don't. There are only a handful of people that do, and they're either dead or missing."

"If what you claim is true, then why should I help you after everything you people did to me? After all the lies, the experiments, the deceptions, why should I even lift a finger to help you?" Olivia said with fierce eyes.

Lincoln felt his lip tremble with anger. "Let me tell you, Agent Dunham," he spat, "About my last few weeks. While I'm sure you people have had your summer barbeques, your midnight swims in pools and nights of endless parties, I've had the task to going from building to building carrying out thousands of bodies from wreckage. I've dug through the dirt to find the lifeless eyes of girls, boys, of babies who hadn't even opened their eyes yet and made the numbing task to tell those who are still living their children are dead."

Tears welled in his eyes as his voice shook behind gritted teeth. "You people, you selfish bastards destroyed my world, destroyed my family, my friends, and my home. I came over here as a mission for peace, for justice and to beg for your aid. My world is dying, Olivia," he cried, hollering at her, "because of the inhumane desire to keep yours. We have no food, no water, and no shelter, nothing to enable us to keep living. Our streets are contaminated, our air toxic. More diseases are being spread. Every day I find more bodies. Families cornered together, the elderly separated from their loved ones."

Lincoln paused, his entire body shaking with rage as tears cascaded down his cheeks, "I came over here, because she believed in your side, my Olivia, who-" he swallowed a lump in his throat, "She believed that this side was always better off, not because of what you had, but because of whom you were, and what you believed in. So please," he whispered, "Help us. Forget this war; forget this stupid, stupid excuse to repel one another. I'm sorry for what Secretary Bishop did, and I know a thousand apologies won't be able to make you see we're not monsters, but this isn't about you or me, or Charlie. We need your help. I need your help. Henry needs your help."

Standing in the shadows, with her arms crossed over her chest Olivia sighed, trying to hide the emotion in her face. No words came to mind as she watched the tears roll down this man's cheeks, this broken, shattered man, and let his words sink in. She tried to think of something to say but no words came to mind, just the images he poured into her mind. Uttering an excuse under her breath Olivia left and closed the door quietly behind her, leaving Lincoln to sob in silence.

"Hey," Peter muttered as he entered the break room to find Olivia seated quietly at the table, her mind lost in the cup of cold coffee seated between her palms. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks puffy and her eyes full of tears. She swallowed, her throat scratched with sandpaper. Sitting next to her he sighed, his own heart mirroring the burdens she wore on her sleeves. "I take it you got the same story from Lincoln?" She silently nodded. "I'll admit," he said slowly, his words dripping with curiosity, "I don't know what to believe, if what they are saying is true."

"I've seen it, Peter," she whispered, "What Lincoln was talking about. He's telling the truth."

He squinted in confusion. "You've… seen it?"

Olivia nodded and closed her eyes, avoiding his reaction. "Yesterday morning, at Liberty Island. It was more than just a glimmer, Peter. I… I crossed over, and I saw it, Over There."

Peter blinked. "You… what?"

"Just before you came over. I closed my eyes and the thought of it freaked me out enough, and I just… crossed over for a few minutes. I didn't want to believe what I saw, that the black was just from there being nothing but Peter, I felt it. I heard the cries. There is no more Liberty Island, there is no more Department of Defense, there's no more day, no more stars. There's simply no more. "

He sat back in his chair and sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "So what happens now?"

"I'm taking Lincoln back there tomorrow to see it for myself."

"You're not going alone, Liv."

"And you're not going, period," she replied quickly. "Peter this isn't something I want on your conscious, if it's as bad as he's making it sound to be-"

He sat up straight. "Not want on my conscious? Olivia, I was the one who stepped into the machine, I was the one responsible for destroying the other universe. How can you tell me to not think about it?"

"Because I'm going to need your help to fix it, Peter," Olivia said, "And I think it's better to not see the damage, because we both know it won't help you sleep at night. I'm going tomorrow, and that's the end of this conversation." Standing quickly she left before Peter could protest, his mouth wide open with wordless replies.

All he could do was sit back and sighed, shaking his head in frustration. He had always known Olivia was a protector, and this time he was the target; shielding him from trekking down a longer guilt-driven path that she knew he'd fall into. It was in that retrospect Peter knew she was right. He hated admitting that. She was incredibly stubborn, and a trait he admired about her.

Standing slowly Peter left the small room and headed down the long hallway once again. In front of him a door opened, revealing Lincoln and Charlie, arms freed of their metallic restraints and being lead to two holding rooms. He'd imagine Olivia must have allowed them a shower and a warm place to sleep before beginning the journey across the universe. Gathering his belongings he exited the building. Hoping down the steps he found her leaning against the SUV, arms crossed and eyes focused solely on the ground beneath her.

His pace slowed, seeing the dismay that hung low on her shoulders. Avoiding him completely she rounded the nose of the vehicle and ducked quickly into the driver's seat, with Peter following and clicking his seat belt into place. The roar of the engine broke the silence between them as she put the car into drive, revving the engine to live. With one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other sat sternly on the arm rest between them. He hated it when she was like this; quiet, reserved, distant and in her own little aggravated world. Sure, they had fought over the years, and her silence towards him was nothing new. But it wasn't the fight he knew she was concerned with.

What if Lincoln was right? The damage, the destruction, even the loss of human life would be an incredible burden to place on their shoulders- on his shoulders.

Pressing his lips together Peter shifted in his seat and glanced towards her, aware to the fact she was purposely avoiding his gaze. Without hesitation he reached for her stray hand and laced his fingers between hers slowly, wrapping each finger gently against her palm. One by one she reciprocated and let out a quiet, quivering breath.

Following the road before her they continued the drive back to the hotel in a calm, smooth, and ever present silence.

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