My apologies. I meant to get this up sooner. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and especially to those who have reviewed/alerted/favorited this in any combination.

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Sometimes on the path of life, there are bumps along the way. Remember, I don't own a thing.

The Hitch-Chapter 8

Olivia Dunham stood at her bedroom window peering out into the blackness of Brighton in the early morning. It had been four weeks since they had shared their news with Broyles, and although things seemed to be going rather smootly at work, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen to change that.

Their 'sham' wedding was scheduled in four Satrudays, on March 5th. A smile crept over her face as she recalled the fun time she, Rachel, and Astrid had had shopping for her wedding gown in downtown Boston. It had taken the entire day, but together they had found the closest thing to the perfect dress-a plain while dress with pearl accents, a simply beautiful train and a matching veil. All three of the women had been speechless for a few moments as Olivia stood there fully adorned in the dressing room.

The smile disappeared from her face as the unsettled feeling returned. She leaned her head against the cold, damp window pane. Is this just pre-wedding jitters? Or is this a sense of impending doom?

She knew it wasn't a foreboding about being with Peter Bishop. Olivia knew they loved each other and that their futures were already comfortably intertwined, regardless of whether they went through with this ceremony or not. The upcoming wedding was for their family and friends. Well, and for me, too. Peter had insisted.

Olivia sighed. She couldn't quite put her finger on what caused her to awaken in a sweat at 2:15AM, but she definitely didn't like it. She rubbed her hands on her arms. The T-shirt and tap pants were fine in a bed with her personal furnace named Peter. But standing by the window she felt a chill trying to take hold of her.

"'Livia?" His voice was rough and laced with sleep. Then there was silence and she just knew he was looking at the red letters on her bedside alarm clock. She heard him release a long sigh. "Sweetheart, come back to bed, and tell me what's wrong."

She did as she was told and crawled back in next to him, thanking herself for following directions. The covers were toasty warm, and she was trying to remember why she thought it was so important to leave them and the man who warmed them for her. Instantly two strong arms wrapped around her and drew her against his chest. He kissed her forehead and then her cheek with his eyes barely open.

"I'm sorry I woke you, Peter. I didn't mean to," she answered, snuggling into him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, new concern coloring his words as he became more conscious.

"I...just have this feeling, that something's gonna happen before the wedding, but I have no idea what, or when."

Peter pulled her up to look at her eye to eye. "What kind of something?"

"I have no idea. But have you noticed how smoothly everything's been going the last four weeks? I mean, we've both been working, and for the most part we've been spending our nights together here. Except that one night when we slept in your bed."

"Yeah and opened the door to Walter taking a stroll naked down the hall." They both laughed.

"Well, there was that. But seriously, aren't you waiting for the other shoe to drop?"

"How so? We've told everyone we're engaged, and we're getting married the right way in four weeks. And we're halfway there. It's all technicalities, because really we've been happily married for weeks now." He kissed her forehead.

"All true, but I can't shake this feeling..."

Peter gave his wife another look. It dawned on him then that maybe she was just nervous about the church wedding. Weren't all women to some degree? Peter gave her one of his charming smiles. Even in the faint light from the window she could see the dangerous glint in his eyes. "I can help you relax, Mrs. Bishop." Suddenly Olivia felt Peter's fingers on the bare skin of her waist, dragging her T-shirt up her sides. She removed her arms from him and put them next to her ears, to accommodate his movements.

"Please do help me, Mr. Bishop," she replied in a half-whisper, as her shirt was pulled over her head and thrown onto the floor. Her anxious thoughts disappeared and were replaced by a totally different set as his hot lips claimed hers.

Astrid Farnsworth sat up quickly as the music blared from her alarm clock. She smiled as she reached over and silenced it, recalling her delight at the two five-hundred dollar checks that had arrived the previous afternoon from Nina Sharp and Brandon. Broyles had paid her right away. She was not surprised she had won the 'When are Olvia Dunham and Peter Bishop getting engaged?' pool, as she was the person working the closest with them, and on a daily basis. Honestly, she was surprised it had taken them as long as it had. She knew they had had feelings for each other for a long time.

The 'When are Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop getting married?' pool was an entirely different matter. It seemed unfair that she was the only one that knew they had gotten married on January first of 2011. Everyone else would think the correct date to be March 5th. The four of them had picked their dates a year ago, and she knew she was the closest, as she had picked the Christmas that had just passed. The other three had picked dates further into the future, but Astrid had been pretty confident Peter and Olivia couldn't wait that long. She laughed as she got out of bed and headed for her bathroom.

It was two Fridays before the wedding. Peter and Olivia were wrapping up a meeting with one of the Bureau's profilers when Phillip Broyles pushed open the door to the meeting room. His posture was rigid and his nostrils were flaring. He looked as though someone had just ripped up his favorite toy. Broyles barely even waited for the profiler to stop talking. "Dunham. Bishop. My office, now!" Broyles spat at them, turning on his heels and marching out again. The three of them grew instanly quiet. Panic started roiling in Olivia's gut.

"Well, you two certainly seemed to have pissed him off," the profiler said nonchalantly. "Good luck with that," he added as he gathered up his paperwork and headed out the door. Peter and Olivia stared at each other.

"Any idea what that's about?" Peter asked her as he stood up?" He walked over and opened the door and held it open for her.

"No idea," Olivia replied as she walked through the doorway and headed toward her superior's office. Peter was right behind her, his hand on her back.

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