A/N : hey everyone! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, you made my day :) I hope you'll like this new chapter, and again, share your thoughts! Don't be shy ;)
As they sat there, silently forcing food down their knotted stomach, they both reflected on what had happened. Olivia had first been poisoned, but seemed to be getting better without treatment. Peter, on the other hand, had almost died, and was now barely able to remain sitting up on a chair. He had needed oxygen, she had a strange craving for sugar. No symptom matched any poisoning they could think of. They hoped Walter would quickly find out what was going on, or they might lose it.
Olivia kept an eye on Peter, who was weakly gulping down some soda. Sensing her watching him, he looked up, putting the can back on the desk.
"What?" he talked softly, almost whispering, his throat sore.
"It's nothing." She couldn't stop herself repeating in her head that she'd almost lost him. She wouldn't acknowledge it, but for the mere seconds she thought Peter was dead, she had regretted not having talked to him; she knew things wouldn't get back to the way they had been before the whole alternate universe fiasco, but she hoped that somehow, they would find a way to work together without awkwardness blanketing them. She wished that she would be strong enough to look past everything, and move on.
"Liv..." he trailed off, not knowing how to bring up what had bothered him since the previous night. "Can I ask you something?" She nodded, anxiously listening to him.
"Last night, when you..." When you finally opened to me, he thought. "Do you remember what you told me?" She frowned. They had spent the previous evening working on Goltz's file, and she had felt exhausted, Peter making her rest despite her protests. She had drifted in and out of sleep, her mind confused as to why her hallucination had came back to her.
He read her face, the precious moment when she recollected what had transpired between them showing clearly in her features. He knew she remembered, but waited for her to express herself, giving her time to recompose.
"I was confused, I don't-" he cut her off, not wanting her to cover the truth.
"You do remember, Liv. Please don't lie to me." She huffed and sat straighter on the chair, crossing her arms on her chest.
"Why does it matter? I wasn't myself, I-"
"Yes, you were! Don't tell me your anguish was fake, because I won't believe you." Olivia stood up, pushing the chair backward, the object almost falling to the floor.
"And how would you know?" she was fuming, her hands flat on the desk, her eyes sending daggers to his.
"Don't do this, Liv. I know I deserve your anger, your hatred, but please don't pretend I don't know you." He swallowed, hard, his voice a mere whisper. "I can't hate myself enough for what I did to you."
She laughed nervously, pacing in the small room. "Oh, that's just perfect. So now you're taking the blame for her? How cute." She knew she was hurting him with her words; she knew he wasn't responsible for what had happened. But she felt that if he had been more careful, if he had really known her like he claimed he did, none of it would have happened.
"Alright, I know I'm far from being perfect, and you can blame it all on me if you want. It won't change anything in the fact that we were both toyed with." He stood up and wobbled toward her, his footing uncertain. "When you said you've lost me..." he sighed, rubbing his eyes. How could he make her understand that he would always be there for her, not matter how far she pushed him from her life. "I know that things will never be the same between us. I accepted that by telling you the truth, I might lose you. But please, don't shut me completely out." He looked at her, desperately trying to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were cast downward, her hands fidgeting. She shook her head, refusing to let the forming tears in her eyes fall in front of him.
"What do you want me to say? It hurts, Peter. What she's done, I feel violated. All of my belongings have been looked through, my life has been scrutinized, filed and given to another woman." She took a shaking breath, her throat constricted by an invisible vise. "What hurt the most is that you, out of all people, didn't see anything. Am I just a shell to you, Peter? Am I..." she couldn't continue, not without sobbing; and she wouldn't let him see her cry, she wouldn't let him how broken she was because of him.
He was distraught; so this was how she felt. As if she was transparent to him, a replaceable doll with whom he had played, not caring past the physical aspects of her. He wanted to take her into his arms, kiss her tears away and never let go. He would try to make amends his whole life, if only it meant that she would understand what she really meant to him.
He took her hands in his, seeing her flinch but not pull back. "How do you think I feel about this? I'm not worthy of you, Olivia, not when I'm not able to distinguish you from her." He had her cornered in the room, his hands keeping her close; he was going to tell her that he hurt, too, even if it was the last thing he did.
"I told you I noticed changes; but I'd rather believe that our new relationship was changing you, however presumptuous that sounds, than admit that I had been duped. I won't say I didn't like the changes; I like when you smile, when you open up to me. I cherish those rare moments because I know it must take a lot from you to talk about your feelings, or about your past. I thought that maybe, after everything, you had taken a look back at your life and decided to enjoy it more." He swallowed hard, letting her proceed everything he had just said.
She was looking at their joined hands, relishing in the comforting gesture, trying to find the words to answer him. The shrilling ringing of a phone cut her short, and Peter swiftly grabbed the offending object from the desk, handing it to her. Wiping tears from her cheeks, she promptly picked up the call.
"Dunham". She hated how weak her voice sounded, hoping that whoever was on the other side of the phone wouldn't notice.
"Oh, hey Walter." Peter busied himself cleaning the desk, storing the remaining food in the fridge, cursing his father for interrupting his and Olivia conversation.