A/N : thanks again to everybody for reading, and don't hesitate to tell me what you think about this, good or bad, I'll appreciate it! Next update tomorrow :)
About an hour had passed, Olivia and Peter cleaning the lab up as best as they could. Peter had taken the corner where the heavy machines laid, arguing that they were too heavy for Olivia to lift them all. So she ended at the other corner of the lab, where the workbenches and small vials used to be.
Making sure there was no risk of explosion of fire anymore, they retreated to the office, Olivia grabbing the first aid kit. She took some glass splinters out of Peter's forearm, applying some antiseptic before bandaging the worst wounds. He then took his turn, cleaning Olivia up as best as he could without hurting her more. She winced a few times and he cursed, whishing there was some pain killers in the medical kit. She insisted that she was well as he cleaned a nasty gash on her cheek bone.
"I'm fine, Peter. It's just a few scratches. And don't even think about stitching my face." She closed her eyes as the disinfectant burnt her cheek, cleaning the wound efficiently. He then put everything away, keeping the medical kit nearby if needed.
"Okay. We should have received Broyles' email by now, do you want to check it while we grab a bite?" She nodded but remained on the chair, feeling somewhat weak – but refusing to say so to Peter.
"So...we have some pizza leftovers and…pastries. That should do it." Peter said, rummaging through the fridge. He reheated the pizza into the microwave and grabbed two cans of sodas, opening one and handing it to Olivia.
"Thank you." She took a sip, hoping her nauseous stomach would keep it down. She managed to eat two slices of pizza before declaring she was full, that Peter could finish it. He looked at her, surprised she had no appetite. She usually ate more, but then who was he to say he knew her well, after everything that had happened?
While eating they both checked the second victim's file, Erik Goltz, 49, father of three children and happily divorced. One of his colleague at work had found him dead, sitting at his desk, coming back from lunch break. The pictures showed the same pink color of the skin than the first victim's.
"The victims seem to have nothing in common." Peter looked at Olivia, who was rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"Hey, you're okay?" he worried, placing his hand on her forearm. She looked up at him and frowned, retreating her arm.
"Yeah, I, um…I must be tired, that's all." He nodded and offered her to get some rest on the couch, while he worked on the case. She surprised him again, not arguing and lying down on the couch, her head pillowed on her arm. He quickly got engrossed in the pieces of paper scattered in front of him on the desk, not noticing Olivia observing him.
She was confused; why had her hallucination came back? Wasn't he supposed to stay over there now that she was back? Was there something in this case that he could help her with?
"Peter?" he looked at her. "Why are you here?"
"What?" he was confused. "We're confined here until Walter…" he trailed off, quickly went crouching down in front of her, feeling her forehead.
"Olivia, how are you feeling?" She pushed her head in his hand, her eyelids half closing.
"I don't know." She sighed and Peter tried to have a look at her pupils for any sign of head trauma. He found none.
"Since I've been back, things have been…hard." She swallowed with difficulty, her eyes filling with tears. "I fear I've lost you, Peter. Because of what she's done…" He shushed her, stroking her hair.
"Don't say that. I know things are complicated right now, but please, don't give up on us yet." She nodded and fell quickly asleep; Peter pondered whether to let her sleep, or keep her awake. If she had a head trauma, she might never wake up. If she was exhausted and was in a delirium state, thought, sleeping was the best thing she could do. He sighed and called his father.
Walter and Astrid were working on the second victim's body, Erik Gotlz. Taking blood and tissue samples, Astrid made sure Walter didn't blow the FBI lab up. Her cellphone rang, and she quickly picked up, reading Peter's name on the screen.
"Peter?" she asked, keeping an eye on Walter. She shared a few words with the young Bishop and gave the phone to Walter, who was busy looking through a microscope.
"Son! How are you feeling?" Walter asked worriedly. Peter explained quickly the situation with Olivia. "Did you check her pupils? Well, do it again! There must be a medical flashlight in the medical kit…yes, move it on and out of her eyes, see how she is reacting." Walter waited while Peter performed the test.
"Her pupils are dilated, but they're not unequal." Walter confirmed he was not a head trauma, and asked his son to check for other symptoms.
"Well, she might have been hallucinating, but I'm not sure. And she seems to be breathing a little fast for a sleeping person." Walter hummed and dropped the phone on the nearest table, returning back to the body. Astrid picked it up.
"Peter? It's Astrid. Yes, he went back to the corpse." Walter asked Astrid to warn Peter; if it was a volatile component they were dealing with, he had to check for any similar symptom he might be experiencing. "Yes, I'll let you know as soon as we have something." She hung up after asking if he needed anything, his response negative.
Peter sat at the edge of the couch, covering Olivia with a blanket that had been thrown over the back of a chair. Had she been into delirium earlier? Or had she finally opened up to him, in an exhausted state?