A/N - It is with great sadness that I post the last chapter. I have loved living in the space between season four and five for the last few months but I have to admit, it was a challenge.

So for you guys who read my other stories, this one does not break from tradition. This girl likes her happy endings, even if they do have a little sadness in them.

This little scene was inspired by my younger sister and her husband. He did this for Valentine's Day last year, before their new baby. Clearly, the conversation would have been different but the cuteness is there. Last time I looked, my little sister wasn't saving the world. Mind you, prehaps raising a child should be counted as something hugely heroic.

Sorry, avoiding the obvious.

So here it is, the last chapter.

Read, enjoy and review.

P.S - I am woring on another story right now but I am going to miss these characters. Michael is still wondering around in my head...him and his little suit.

Chapter Twenty-One – Under My Skin

With Michael safely back with his Aunt, all Olivia wanted was food and an early night. When she got to the front of the house, she paused. Something wasn't right. It was too quiet. The living room was dark and she could soft light through the windows. Her hand was almost on her gun when she saw the shadow of Peter in the kitchen, her ears finally hearing the soft hum of music, the same hum that she had been too tired to register before. She slipped into the house and smiled slightly. The soft light she had seen was from the candles. Hundreds of the damn things covering every inch of space, flickering merrily in the small breeze from the door. She saw the rose petals too, snaking from the front door and up the stairs. She followed her nose to the kitchen, the delicious scents drawing her in.

"Hey Peter."

Peter spun from the counter, a tea towel over his shoulder.

"Out."

Olivia frowned.

"What?"

Peter moved forward and shuffled her out of the kitchen. He placed his hands on her shoulders, a small smile on his face.

"Hi Liv."

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

"Now, follow the roses."

Olivia registered the silence that could only come from an Etta free home.

"Where's Etta?"

"With Kathleen. She's fine. And yes, I packed Henry, her favourite blankets and books, even her favourite night time bottle. Now, follow the roses."

"Where do they lead?"

He didn't answer her question, pushing her coat from her shoulders and placing it by the front door. He nudged her closer to the roses.

"Follow the roses. And when you come back, dinner will be waiting for you."

Peter drifted from her side and back into the kitchen. Olivia took a deep breath, enjoying the heady scent of the blooms before doing what she was told and following them up the stairs. The path of rose petals twisted through their room and into the bathroom where she found a full tub. When she dipped her hand in, the water was a perfect temperature, filled with bath salts and vanilla bubble bath, the one that Peter had given her recently for Mother's Day. Candles flickered gently on the corners of the tub and Olivia took a moment to appreciate her wonderful husband before stripping off and sliding into the hot water, allowing herself to become immersed in the bubbles. She lost track of time as the hot water worked through her body in inches and when she finally stepped out, the water now cool, her fingers were wrinkly and she was fairly certain that there wasn't a bone left in her body. She was the very definition of relaxed. She pulled on her robe and headed to the bedroom, wondering what she should wear. It seemed a waste to not wear something special after Peter went to such an effort. She hadn't noticed the large box on the bed when she first entered the room before her bath and it took her by surprise. On top of the bulky red bow was a small note.

For my wonderful wife.

Olivia smiled as she slid off the lid. Peter was definitely cashing in on favours. It was a small, black slip of a dress. She put it on, shaking out her hair and glancing at her reflection. The hem on the dress rested mid-thigh, dipping low at the front and at the back, a light littering of sparkly stones winding around her waist. It looked good, despite being something that went against everything else in her wardrobe, which was built for practicality. She went back to the box, wondering if he had gotten shoes to go with it, laughing when her hand located the black heels that were the perfect size, matching the dress to a tee. Putting on a quick swipe of lipstick and mascara, Olivia headed back downstairs. While she was in the bath, Peter had changed the path of the roses. She followed them into the dining room, grinning when she saw what waited for her there. Peter was dressed in a suit, a bouquet of roses in his hand, a wide smile on his face. Candles lit the room with their soft glow, the table set with their good silverware and the plates that they had received as a wedding gift from Broyles.

"Wow you went all out, didn't you?"

"I could say the same about you. You are a vision."

Olivia did a little twirl.

"Thank you."

She studied Peter.

"Have I told you just how attractive I find men in suits?"

"That explains the job choice then."

Olivia moved closer to Peter, capturing his lips with her own. It didn't take long for the kiss to deepen, Peter's hands moving to the exposed skin of her back, tracing her spine. Olivia moaned in his mouth and moved deeper into his embrace. It was Peter who broke the kiss with a soft sigh.

"We have all night. And I really want you to try my cooking."

Olivia smiled, taking the roses that Peter offered. She breathed in the same scent that she had been following all night. Peter took her hand , leading her to a seat, which he held out for her. He poured her a glass of white wine. When she looked at the label, she saw that it was from her favourite vineyard in California. She pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder before glancing at the covers on the food.

"It smells delicious. What are we having?"

"I watched that cooking show with Gordon Ramsey that you like."

"Which one?"

"Master chief I think it's called. Anyway, I saw this incredible recipe."

With a flick of his wrist, Peter lifted the cover off the food and Olivia was hit once again with the delectable scent of his efforts.

"We have fried catfish, lightly crumbed and spiced with herbed yoghurt sauce. Then we have sweet potato fries and walnut orange coleslaw with shredded beets."

"Wow. I'm impressed."

"And, I took complete advantage of being cook. I tried everything. I figured if I failed, I could always get your favourite takeaways and be forgiven."

"You made all of this?"

"Yup. Oh and of course, there is dessert but that is for later."

"I am still impressed."

"So you should be."

Olivia chuckled as Peter filled her plate with a little of everything, placing it in front of her. He filled his own and for a few minutes, Olivia enjoyed her husband's cooking skills. She had never had catfish before but decided after trying Peter's, that she would happily have it again. The coleslaw, though a seemingly odd mix of flavours, was refreshing and crisp, making a perfect partner to the sweet potato fries.

"So, you visited Marion Chessler."

It wasn't a question, just a soft statement. Olivia finished her mouthful of coleslaw before pushing it down with a sip of her wine.

"Yes."

Peter nodded slightly.

"I know you understood the whole thing more than I did but I'm confused. I don't remember you feeling the need to follow up with any of the others."

"I don't really expect you to understand."

"Why?"

Olivia put her napkin down on the table.

"Because I don't understand."

Peter captured her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"But it bothered you. And part of being your husband means that I get to be bothered by it too."

Olivia could feel Peter waiting for an answer but she didn't have one. This case hurt on so many levels and not just the kids. She had glanced into the life of a woman that had lost her child and it was a cold, awful place. Wyndell James had killed himself because he was in so much pain over his daughter's death. And Marion Chessler had fallen off the cliff of sanity.

"I guess it allowed me to see what Walter does when he looks at you."

"How so?"

"How much it could break a person to lose their child. He got you back. But others, they don't. I saw what it did to Marion Chessler and Wyndell James. And it was frightening."

"Is that why you went and saw her?"

Olivia shrugged slightly.

"I went to see her to give her something."

"What?"

"Pictures of Celeste. I see Etta all the time but she's still the wallpaper on my mobile, the screensaver on my work computer and my laptop and I have far too many pictures of her in my wallet. I don't know how I would survive without seeing her face. I wanted Marion to have that at least."

Peter nodded releasing her hand and returning to his meal. He wasn't angry, that much Olivia could tell. She just wasn't sure exactly what he was thinking. The meal passed with idle chatter and when they were done, Peter took her hand, leading her into the living room. He flicked on the stereo and pulled her into his arms as soft jazz started to play. She relaxed into his embrace, enjoying his warmth, the steadiness that was Peter, letting the music wash over her.

"I'm not annoyed."

The comment was needed but came out of leftfield regardless. Olivia continued to shift with Peter, her voice low in his ear.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It was something I needed to do."

"I forget about it sometimes."

"What?'

"That big heart of yours."

"I'm glad you're not upset."

Peter pushed her away and into a light spin before claiming her back into his arms.

"How could I be? You're safe, Etta is safe and another case is closed. What in the world is there to be upset about?"

Olivia pressed a kiss to his cheek and let Peter lead her around the soft rug of the living room. She didn't think it could get better until Peter ushered her back into the dining room, reappearing a moment later with an incredible chocolate cake.

"You did this too?"

"Unfortunately, baking is not my strong suit. This is a purely Walter creation."

"Dare I ask what it is?"

"It's a five layer cherry chocolate gateau."

"Wow. Insomnia again?"

"Yup. At least we get the good end of that with having our own home."

"True. I think I've seen more of Walter naked than I have of myself."

Peter snorted as he carefully cut a slice for her. Olivia watched, her respect for Walter's baking abilities deepening. She always knew he could bake and that he was fantastic at it. He claimed that baking was a science just with far more delicious results. When Etta started teething, Walter created the Etta Cookie. Hard like a ginger nut so that she could suck it until it dissolved but laced with chocolate and orange. She adored them. And when she was going through the trauma of her first tooth, they were one of the few things that soothed her. He had also made their wedding cake and birthday cakes when he remembered. But this was impressive. The layers were perfectly even, the sponge dark, broken by precise inches of cherries, cream and chocolate. Olivia took a large chunk off her slice with her fork, rolling it around on her tongue, the cherries tart and the liquor gently warming her throat.

"Ok, you need to get that away from me. I'm not going to be able to stop."

Peter chuckled and ate his own slice. When desert was done, and as Olivia requested, the cake put away, Peter offered her a smile.

"And now for the final gift."

"Another one?"

"We have an Etta free house."

He moved behind her seat, pushing aside her hair before laying small kisses along the line of her throat. She could smell the cake on his breath, the sweetness of the cream filling her senses.

"For the first time, in a very long time, our darling daughter will not be interrupting us."

She sighed, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck, finding the soft curls there. He nipped at her earlobe, his breath hot in her ear.

"I think we should move this up to the bedroom, what do you think?"

His hand found the dip in the back of her dress again, his fingers tracing a hot path from the nape of her neck all the way down to the curve where he rested his hand when they walked together. Her breath came in a quick gasp as she spoke.

"I would hate to ruin the wedding china."

She moved just enough to stand, taking his tie and leading him upstairs. She frowned when he paused, a few steps behind her.

"What's wrong?"

Peter grinned.

"I'm enjoying the view. Keep going."

Olivia laughed and did as she was told, leaving the case and the pain that came with it behind. She had more important things to focus on right now. Like her incredible husband, who never doubted her and never allowed her to place that doubt in herself. And the fact, as Peter had pointed out, that they had an Etta free evening for the first time in a very long time.