Archive of Our Own

Sunday

Chapter 1

It was Sunday morning, and they were piled up in Olivia’s bed, drinking coffee and poring over the real estate section of the Press.  A sheaf of photos and a realtor’s presentation notebook were spread out on one side of the bed; the rest of the paper, now abandoned, was at the foot. 

Olivia was snuggled close to Peter, her head on his shoulder as he flipped the pages of the paper.  Every now and then, she’d point to a listing, and he’d dutifully circle it in red. 

Peter kissed Olivia’s forehead and slid out of bed.  “Want some more juice?” He held up his empty mug. 

Olivia shot him a dirty look as she handed him her empty glass.  “Maybe some of the papaya this time.”  She looked at him slyly.  “With a side of coffee.”

He waggled his finger at her.  “Ah ah, ahhh, not gonna happen.” He managed to dodge in time and the pillow hit the door frame as he walked towards the kitchen. 

She smiled as she watched his lanky frame, clad only in boxers, strolling across her living room.  He had been an almost constant presence ever since she came home from the hospital, ever since she given him The News, as they’d begun to refer to her pregnancy.  Even though she was only a few months gone, she was starting to feel the effects, and Peter was always there, running to the corner market or across town for her latest food fancy, bringing her crackers, ginger ale, and cool compresses when the proverbial morning sickness struck, all the while smiling at her as if she’d just given him the most amazing gift in the world….

Just like he was smiling at her now, as he handed her a large glass of pinkish-orange juice.  He set his own tumbler of water on the side table next to his phone and watch.

“I thought you wanted more coffee?” she asked him, sipping her juice.

“I figured it was hard enough doing without – I don’t need to wave it under your nose.”  Peter sat back in bed and pulled her close. 

“Aw, I don’t even get to sniff it, either?” Olivia put on her best pitiful look and turned to Peter.

Peter rubbed his nose against hers, then chuckled.  “Whatever you want, dear,” he said grandly, as he started to get out of bed again.

Olivia grabbed his arm and pulled him back.  “You’ve got to stop waiting on me hand and foot,” she laughed.  “You’ll spoil me!”

He leaned back and removed the juice glass from Olivia’s hand, setting on the table.  “That’s the idea.”  Pulling her into an embrace, he nuzzled her face again.  “I’m trying to build up brownie points so you won’t kill me when the hormones kick in.”

“mmm…” Olivia settled into his embrace, then slid her hand over the front of his boxers, getting an immediate response.  “I think some of those hormones are already kicking in.”

Peter cupped her face in his hand and smiled.  “Whatever you want, dear,” he murmured as he kissed her deeply.  Olivia tangled her fingers in the short curls at the back of his neck and hummed contentedly.  He shifted against the pillows and pulled her closer, enjoying her warmth against him. 

He ran his fingers through her hair over and over as he alternated kisses between her lips and her neck.  Peter, being a quick learner, had already determined that Olivia’s moods were mercurial; even more than usual, he let her set the pace, whether it be running through the park, touring houses, or in bed. 

Olivia ran her hand over Peter’s shoulder, mindful that it was still sore from fighting Jones on the rooftop… her ‘Jedi Knight’ trick, as Peter laughingly called it.  She continued down his chest, lightly running her nails over him.  She achieved her desired effect; when she reached his cock, he was eager for her touch. 

Leisurely, they kissed and snuggled; since the events on the Talos, the world had settled back to its usual catastrophes, giving the Fringe team, and especially Peter and Olivia, an unfamiliar lull in activities.  They’d still been busy – looking for houses, enjoying spring in Boston, and here, in bed.

Olivia leaned back into the pillows and tugged on Peter’s good shoulder.  He responded by nuzzling her neck and oh-so-gently pulling her over to straddle him.  She made a disapproving face that softened as he cupped her breasts in his hands.

Peter knew what Olivia said (it’s too soon for anything to show) but her breasts were fuller, heavier in his hands already.  He ghosted his thumbs over her nipples, smiling as they hardened under his touch.  Olivia shivered, and Peter immediately dropped his hands, a look of worry on his face.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” His hands settled on her hips gingerly.

Olivia closed her eyes, willing her temper into submission.  She grasped Peter’s hands and replaced them on her breasts, then squeezed them.

“Peter,” she exhaled, her frustration with him showing.  “I talked to Doctor Evans.  I won’t break.”

Peter’s jaw clenched, although he didn’t say anything.  

She leaned forward, placing her hands on his chest.  “You can’t hurt me, you can’t hurt the peanut.”

He looked at her with a growing smile at her use of their nickname.  “But…”

Olivia looked directly at him, and slid her body over his.  Her warmth and slickness made his cock jump and he instinctively pushed against her.  As she leaned closer to his chest, his hands drifted from her breasts down the curve of her back and curled around her ass.  “I told her about you,” she whispered, as she slid over him again; Peter groaned and tried to still her movement by grasping her hips.

Two can play at this, he thought. “Told her what?” he growled as he nibbled her collarbone.  He was rewarded by a faint blush, but she continued to move over him.  He took a deep breath; her movement, her heat, her slick lips enveloping him were pushing the bounds of his self control.  He wanted to drive into her and feel that warmth surround his cock, he wanted to lose himself in her scent and her embrace.  It was the one place where he felt safe. He held back, took another deep breath.

“What did you tell her, Livia?” He nuzzled her neck, finding that spot she liked so much under her ear.

“Ahhhh…..” Olivia pulled away from him slightly and looked at him with hooded eyes. While the blush still graced her cheeks, her lips curved with a mischievous grin.  “I told her that there was an exception to the old story about big hands and feet….”

Peter arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“… but that you weren’t it. That... “

“Okay, okay, I get it.” 

“Peter, you aren’t going to hurt me.  Stop treating me like you’re afraid to touch me.”  She leaned back into a sitting position, still surrounding Peter’s cock with the warmth of her body. 

“Then why did you jump when I touched you, Livia?” Peter settled his hands at her waist and looked at her, waiting for her answer.

Olivia took his hands, and pressed a kiss to the palm of each one before putting them back on her breasts.  Peter cupped them again, but more gently this time.

“I jumped because they’re more sensitive.” 

Peter froze.

“And because it feels good, Peter.”  She placed her hands over his and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples as he’d done before. 

Peter looked up at her.  Olivia’s eyes were closed, and her hair floated over her shoulders. As he continued to touch her, her body undulated in response and she drew a deep breath.   Every time he rubbed her hardened nipples, she moved against his cock and he struggled to keep his self control.

“Olivia… I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” Peter said raggedly.

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his.  “I know…”

“Or to the baby.”

“I know, Peter.  We’re fine.  We’re all fine.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, but Olivia kissed him before he could say anything else.  “Shhhh, Peter.”  She raised her body slightly until his cock was poised at her entrance, teasing him again.  “No holding back, or I’m kicking you out of bed.  Understood?”

Peter looked at her wordlessly; his reply was in his smile.  He rolled her to her back and sank into her, balancing his weight on his good left arm.  Soon, the papers and folders hit the floor.

 

The Next Week

Chapter 2

“Walter, how many more boxes are in here?” Astrid pushed a curl out of her face and surveyed Walter’s office/bedroom.

“Only a few more, Aster,” Walter tugged on a Red Vine as he rifled through a box of papers.  “Hmm, don’t need these, I imagine.”

Astrid walked over the table Walter was using and picked up some of the papers he’d pulled from the box.  “Walter, these look like old bank statements… Why don’t you let me go through these for you?”

“Of course, m’dear.  You’ll find out what a poor old man I truly am,” he chuckled as he turned his attention to the next box.

ooo

Peter stepped back to survey his work.  The tarps had been removed from all the furniture and were piled in a heap near the entryway.  Everything had been dusted, waxed, or washed, and the house smelled of lemon Pledge and old books.  Peter had emptied the attic and the basement, filling the bookcases and shelves with Walter’s books and albums.  Boxes of photographs from the attic were sitting in the living room, awaiting Walter’s perusal.

On the second floor, the bedrooms had fresh linens on all the beds and the towels were new.  Peter rarely went upstairs , even though he had lived in the house for several months now; when he was there, he slept on the sofa in front of the fireplace.  Sleeping upstairs brought back too many memories; painful memories when he was the only one who seemed to remember them. 

The kitchen gleamed and sunlight poured through the kitchen window.  A few appliances sat on the kitchen island; Peter planned to take them to the lab for repair.  Next to them sat a box of files and rolled up schematics – Peter’s notes on The Machine.  As much as he’d like to burn them all and forget he’d ever seen the damn thing, a nagging voice in the back of his head told him they weren’t through with it yet.

Walter wasn’t moving in for a few more days, but Peter and Astrid had agreed to split the responsibilities: Peter would ready the house, since he was already there and certainly was more familiar with it; Astrid would tackle the chore of helping Walter pack his belongings at the lab.  Peter still felt he had the better end of the deal; he knew what a packrat Walter could be.

Peter strolled through the rooms, making mental notes on his remaining tasks, when he heard a tentative knock on the door and Olivia’s voice.

“Peter? Are you here?”

He rushed to the entryway. “Olivia?  What’s wrong?”

He heard Olivia sighing in frustration. “Peter.  Everything’s fine.”  She looked around, then linked her arm through his.  “You’ve been busy.”

“I have been,” he agreed, and bent his head to kiss her.  “Want the grand tour?”

“Of course!  Are you putting Walter’s bed downstairs again?” She laughed as they walked through the rooms.

“I thought I’d let him make that decision.  He may want to be upstairs this time around.”

“You’ve been so good for him, Peter.  I never thought I’d see the day that he’d WANT to leave the lab.” Olivia leaned into Peter and squeezed his arm. 

“Well, better sooner than later.  I’d like to get him settled in now, in case I need to spend more time with him here until he gets comfortable.”

Olivia smiled.  Peter’s affection for the old man was obvious in his voice, and in the work he’d done to prepare the house for him. 

As she walked into the kitchen, she noticed a pile of childproofing gadgets on the counter.  Most had been opened and installed, judging by the empty packaging, but a few outlet covers and cabinet locks remained.  “Peter, don’t you think it’s a little early for these?”

He laughed.  “Oh, those aren’t for the peanut.  They’re for Walter.”

At Olivia’s dubious expression, he replied, “It’s worth it.  I’ve been here before, remember?”

She laughed as she moved through the kitchen.  “I guess you would know better than any of us.”

She stopped in front of the box of schematics, running her hands over the rolled up tubes.  She didn’t say anything, but she bit her lip the way she always did when she was unsure about something. 

Peter didn’t want to break her cheerful mood, so he took her hand and tugged her over to the kitchen sink.  “Look at that backyard.  We can put a little garden out there, and a picnic table… maybe even a swing.”

“For Walter?”

“Well, you know how he likes Newtonian mechanics,” Peter deadpanned.  As a smile crept across Olivia’s face, he circled his arms around her and nuzzled her nose with his.  “Now, unless you came over to inspect my housecleaning skills, you must have something on your mind.”  He looked at her expectantly.

“Actually, I did.  I’m going to a yoga class and wanted to let you know so you wouldn’t be wondering where I was if you called and I didn’t answer.”

Before Peter could speak, she put a finger to his lips.  “And, yes, I’ve talked to Dr. Evans, and she thought it was perfectly fine.”

He opened his mouth, and she pressed her finger against his lips again.  “It’s a yoga class for pregnant women, and she ok’d every pose they use in the class.  She even emailed me a list.  And I’ve done yoga before.”

Peter kissed the tips of Olivia’s finger, then her forehead.  “I was just going to say that yoga is very good for pregnant women.  Lots of benefits, and it’s low impact exercise.”

“And once she told me I couldn’t run anymore, she had to give me something in its place.”

At Peter’s questioning look, Olivia continued. “It’s not running per se, but running as long and as hard as I like…” She shook her head ruefully.  “And you know me, I can’t do anything – “

“Halfway.” They said together, then laughed. 

Peter leaned his forehead against hers and said softly “You are an amazing woman, Olivia Dunham.  I’ve never seen anyone who could do the things that you do.”  They shared another kiss, then stood quietly, enjoying the sunshine streaming through the windows.

Too soon for Peter’s liking, Olivia squeezed his biceps. “I’d better be going.  I have to stop at the apartment to pick up my yoga things.”

Peter leaned in for one more kiss.  “Call me if you need anything.  I should be there shortly, and I’ll start dinner.”

 

A week later…

Chapter 3

“I have a surprise for you,” Peter said as he greeted Olivia at the door.  “Well, two, actually.” 

Olivia sniffed as she walked in.  No tantalizing aromas were wafting from the kitchen, so it wasn’t dinner, and she said as much.

“No, not dinner.  I have spinach salad, and I’ll make the bacon dressing when we’re ready to eat.”  Peter pulled her into a loose embrace and kissed her.  “I know you missed your yoga class the last few days… so I thought I would put one together for you.”

Olivia’s eyebrows arched in surprise.  “You do yoga?”

“Mm-hmm.  Used to teach classes at a fancy spa in Italy,” Peter replied as he opened his laptop.  “So… class first or dinner first?”

She eyed him dubiously.  “Yogis wear jeans and t-shirts these days?”

Peter laughed and tugged her by her hand towards the bedroom.  “C’mon, I’ll help you change for class,” he said in a Groucho Marx voice.

A few minutes later, Olivia, in yoga pants and a loose t-shirt, was spreading two mats in the open space in her living room.  Peter, in boxer briefs and his favorite faded blue t-shirt, was pulling up a playlist on his laptop.

“So…. How are we going to do this?” Olivia was intrigued by the idea of Peter as a yoga instructor.

“Well, some people teach by example.  I, on the other hand,” Peter walked behind Olivia, “prefer a more ‘hands on’ approach for my private lessons.”  He smirked as he stood close behind her and ran his hands down her arms.

“Let’s start with a sun salutation.  You probably know these poses already, but if you hold on to my wrists,” Peter nodded approvingly as Olivia clasped his wrists, “we can move together.”

Peter stretched their arms straight above their heads.  He was just tall enough for Olivia to follow his movements without his arms and body interfering with hers. 

“We’ll do the first few poses a few times to get warmed up,” he murmured into her ear.  “Breathe in.”

He leaned back and Olivia leaned with him.   His legs were planted firmly and far enough apart that they were still stable.  “Breathe out,” he said as they held the arch. 

“Breathe in.”  They moved back into a mountain pose, arms high above their heads.  Olivia turned her head slightly to look at Peter.  The next pose was hands flat on the floor. 

“Breathe out.”  Peter shadowed Olivia as her body gracefully curved into a 'U' shape.  His hands dwarfed her smaller ones as he flattened them to the floor on either side of hers.  “And hold…”

“Now…. right leg back.” Peter supported his weight to allow Olivia enough room to move to the next pose.  “Breathe in.”

“Extend your body… breathe out.”  Peter leaned into the pose and pressed his body against Olivia’s.  “See, isn’t this more fun than a video?”

Olivia moved into the next pose, a Downward Dog, pushing against Peter’s body.  “Did you teach all your students like this?  And in your boxers?” 

Peter laughed.  In this pose, the temptation was just too much for him and he rubbed against Olivia.  “Only the ones that paid well.  And if they paid really well, I taught them shirtless.”

Olivia giggled at the thought, and her laugh was infectious.  Soon, they were in a heap of tangled limbs on the floor.  As they untangled themselves, Olivia ended up sitting in Peter’s lap, facing him with her legs bent and feet flat on the floor beside his hips.

“I think I need to know a little more about your qualifications before we go any further.”  She tried to maintain a stern expression.

Peter stretched his arms around Olivia to support her back, and bent his legs in the same position as hers.   “Well, it was a lovely little place in Tuscany, Terme di Saturnia.  A VERY exclusive spa that just happened to need a yoga teacher.”

“And Peter Bishop just happened to be in the neighborhood.”  Olivia looked skeptical.

“Actually, Peter Bishop was in a hurry to get out of Napoli,” he admitted with a sheepish look, “but Pietro Cardinale was a WELL qualified yoga instructor, especially for the ladies ‘of a certain age’ that frequented the spa.”  He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Peter!  You were a gigolo?” Olivia looked aghast.

Peter looked astonished. “No, no, are you kidding?  Pietro was a good looking sort, but not THAT good looking.”  He smirked.  “And no, I didn’t teach classes in my boxers… Pietro wore white… loose white cotton pants and a shirt.  Sometimes the shirt was more unbuttoned than others…” He looked at her impishly. 

“Pietro, hmm?” Olivia put her hands on Peter’s shoulders and settled herself more comfortably.  “Tell me more.”

“Well, I was doing a little business in Napoli, and my, er, clients, decided they wanted to be a little more involved than we’d originally agreed upon.”

Olivia was watching Peter’s face intently.  She always enjoyed these little glimpses into his past, before Iraq, before Boston, but she never pushed him to talk about it. 

He looked at her before continuing.  “I DO have immunity, right?  Statute of limitations and all that?”

Olivia shrugged.  “Out of my jurisdiction, I’m afraid.  You’ll just have to take your chances.”

He shrugged.  “Quel ch’è fatto, è fatto.”

At Olivia’s blank stare, he translated.  “What’s done is done,” he murmured.

“So, how did Pietro come to be a yoga master?”

Peter chattered away in Italian, waving his hands grandly.  Olivia could pick out a few words… “maharishi, Mumbai, kundalini….”  She continued to look at Peter skeptically.

“Seriously?  A few YouTube videos, a few websites…”

She shook her head, unable to keep a smile from creeping across her face.

“And if someone came to class that knew more than I did…. I encouraged them to lead the class with me.”

“Peter… sorry, Pietro,” she smirked, “How long were you able to pull this off?”

He grinned.  “Long enough.  Enough time for my ‘clients’ to become distracted with other things, and to put away a few dollars until the next job.”

Olivia pulled him to her and leaned her forehead against his.  “I think if we’re together a hundred years, I will never know everything you’ve done.”

“Probably a good thing.  You’re still the law.” Peter nuzzled her face.  “I will tell you about something that I actually DID study, while I was in Singapore.”

She relaxed in his arms.  “Go on.”

“Oh, no… You have to earn another story.”  Peter leaned back and held his hands out to pull Olivia to her feet. 

 

Chapter 4

By the time they’d completed the Sun Salutation poses and a few other stretches, in a more traditional side-by-side arrangement, they both were covered with a thin sheen of sweat. 

Olivia folded her legs into a Lotus pose.  “You actually do know what you’re doing.” 

Peter feigned a hurt expression.  “I picked up a few things.”  He picked up his laptop from the table nearby, and collapsed gracefully next to her.  “I did a few routines for you at various stages.  Once you’re a little bigger, some of the poses will be more difficult.” His fingers flew over the keyboard as he brought up a series of videos labeled by week – Week 12, Week 15, Week 20, Week 30…  “And pretty soon, you’ll want to avoid the floor work altogether, it won’t be comfortable and it could reduce the blood flow to the peanut.”

Olivia was shaking her head, but smiling.  “Peter, did you talk to Dr. Evans?  How did – “

“Oh, I took the list she gave you, and did a little research… the power of the internets, you know?”

“Peter, really….”  Olivia started a video.  Soothing acoustic guitar played in the background.  Peter appeared on screen in a pair of drawstring pants, barefoot and shirtless.  As he started the poses, he described each move in a calm, quiet voice. 

As the video continued to play, Olivia glanced at Peter, who was watching her intently.

“Well?  What do you think? “

She smiled and reached for his hand.  “I think I have the best looking yoga instructor outside of Tuscany.”  She leaned over and kissed him.  “Now what did you study in Singapore?”

Peter smiled wickedly.  “It’s another form of yoga and meditation…. Tantra.  You ever heard of it?”

Olivia’s forehead wrinkled.  “Isn’t that the Kama Sutra?”

“Well… not exactly, although the Kama Sutra discusses tantric sex extensively.  Come to think of it, that might be really good for you in the third trimester….”

She swatted Peter, then leaned against him.  “You worry too much.  I’m not the first woman that’s ever been pregnant.”

A shadow fell over Peter’s face, but he tried to hide it by kissing Olivia’s neck.  “So…. would you like another lesson, or do you want to wait til after dinner?” 

She leaned into him and said, “Now, please.  Do I need to take off my clothes for this?”  She eyed Peter’s now damp t-shirt and smiled.  “Or maybe you should take yours off instead.”

Peter looked thoughtful.  “We could probably jump in at the advanced level, but let’s start at the beginning… just for fun.’

Olivia looked at him sideways and smirked.  “I might need to know a little more about your course of study first.”

Peter was moving to face her and grasped her thighs, pulling her towards him.  “Patience, padawan.  All in good time.” 

He pulled her close, putting her legs over his, and bending his knees as well.  He placed her hand over his heart, and put his in the same place on her chest.   “Lots of people think tantric sex is just Sting doing it for hours and hours in complicated positions,” he murmured, looking intently at Olivia, “but it’s really just slowing down, appreciating your lover in every way, enjoying the journey instead of rushing to the destination.”

Olivia smiled as he leaned his forehead against hers.  His other hand rested gently on her hip.

“Feel my heart.  Listen to my breathing.”  He kissed her forehead and leaned back just far enough to gaze into her eyes.  “Look into my eyes, and try to clear your mind of everything but just the two of us.”

Olivia took a deep breath, and concentrated on Peter’s heartbeat beneath her fingertips.  As she focused on his deep blue eyes, she fought against the worries crowding her mind – the baby, the Cortexiphan, closing the Bridge, dealing with Bell… 

Peter rubbed his thumb gently across her forehead.  “You’re thinking too hard about not thinking.”  He gave her a reassuring smile.  “It’s the hardest part to learn.” 

He placed his other hand over hers on his chest.  “Concentrate on my heartbeat.  See if you can focus just on that one thing.”

As she looked at Peter, Olivia noticed the crinkles around his eyes as he smiled.  She felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the solid thump of his heart.  Without effort, her own breathing fell into a rhythm with his and she felt the tension of a few minutes ago leaving her body. 

Peter gently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.  He could see her visibly relaxing.  Time for my own concentration…  As he gazed into her olive eyes, his mind drifted over the past few years – the realization early on that this woman was unique, finally admitting that his attraction to her was more than just a casual flirtation.  The past four years had been implausible, would be unbelievable to anyone outside their coterie, and yet Olivia had been his reality, and he hers, through situations that would’ve broken anyone else, and nearly broke them as well. 

Remembering his training, he brought his mind back to the moment… the feel of Olivia’s hand over his heart, the softness of her hand under his.  The warmth of her body under his own hand and the gentle beat of her heart made him want to wrap his arms around her and carry her off to bed, but he wanted to find ways they could strengthen their connection in addition to sex.  He believed Olivia, and her doctor, but he couldn’t eliminate the worry that seemed to be permanently camped in the back of his mind.

“Now who’s worrying?”  Olivia’s soft voice interrupted the anxiety that he felt building in his chest.  She cupped his cheek in her free hand and leaned into him.  “I want some of that mind-blowing sex that everybody keeps talking about,” she teased.

“Can’t have my star pupil feeling unsatisfied,” he chuckled as he pulled her body closer.  “We’ll skip to an advanced lesson.”  He traced her back lightly, ending at the base of her spine.  “Muladhara,” he whispered, nibbling on her collarbone.  As his fingers moved slowly up her back, he named each chakra in turn.  “Swadhisthana… Manipura… Anhata…” His lips traced a path from her collarbone to her breast.  He mouthed her nipple through the thin t-shirt until her breathing hitched and she wove her fingers through his hair. 

“Vishuddha,” he breathed as he kissed his way back to her neck, and found the spot just under her ear that seemed to melt even her most aloof, professional demeanor.   As he sucked gently on THAT spot, Olivia moaned and brought her body even closer.  As she rocked against him, his arousal was swift and obvious. 

“You’re skipping ahead…” he mumbled into her hair, loving the feeling of her warm body nestled against him. 

“I have a good teacher… he inspires me,” she whispered.

Peter kissed her forehead.  “Ajna.”  And then the top of her head.  “Sahasrara.”  He felt Olivia’s breath on his neck, and her gentle kisses tracing his jaw. 

“Hope you were paying attention, there’ll be a quiz later.”

She bit her lower lip in concentration, then cupped his face in her hands and tilted his head down.  As she kissed his crown, she repeated each chakra with perfect pronunciation.  She kissed the center of his forehead, then tugged his t-shirt over his head.  She continued down his body, nuzzling his neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss over his heart (and taking a slight detour to lap at his nipples, tiny points nestled in the soft hair on his chest), swirling her tongue in his navel, then tugging at the top of his boxers. 

Peter brought her face up to his.  “I think you’re well on your way to mastering this topic,” he mumbled into her neck.  He embraced her and pulled her closer.   She locked her legs around him and rocked against his cock; feeling his arousal increased her own.

He slipped his hands into her yoga pants and cupped her ass.  “Class dismissed, Ms. Dunham,” he murmured as he began to slip them off.  In moments, there was a small pile of clothes beside the yoga mats and Olivia was back in his lap.  Peter wrapped his arms around her again and gently rocked them back and forth.  His cock was buried deep in her, and each movement made her gasp just a little.  Supporting her in his embrace, Peter leaned back and looked into her eyes.  He saw the desire he felt reflected in her olive eyes. He kept his gaze fixed on hers as they moved together for what seemed like hours… or minutes so intense that time stopped for them. 

One of her arms curved around his neck, her fingers tangled in the curls at the back of his head.  With the other, she traced the features of his face as if committing them to memory – his eyebrows, his cheeks, his lips, her touch so light he might’ve imagined it.

“Tell me,” she whispered. 

“I love you,” he replied, his gaze never wavering. “I’ll always love you.”

And when she came, her entire body shuddered and her fingers twisted in his hair, and she told him later it was like falling off a cliff in slow motion, on a cloud sinking gently back to earth.

And he met her halfway down and fell with her, feeling like it would never end, hoping it never would.

 

The following Saturday…

Chapter 5

Olivia sighed as she climbed back into the Pathfinder.  Peter handed her a water bottle and looked on approvingly as she drank. 

“Well, what did you think about that one?” he asked her as they pulled away from the curb.

“The rooms were awfully small and dark, didn’t you think?”

“Mmm,” Peter was non-committal.  “Where to next?”

She flipped through a sheaf of MLS listings.  “We’ve looked at everything in our price range.” She looked at a few more pages.  “And a few that aren’t.” She sighed again.

Peter glanced over at her, concern written all over his face.  “You tired, hon?”

“A little.”

“Let’s go home, then, and…”

“Peter, we can’t stop everything just because I’m a little tired.”

And cranky, he thought. 

“Well, I’m tired.  Let’s stop for a break, at least.  We can go over what we looked at this morning.”

Olivia sighed again and turned to look out the window.  Peter reached out and clasped her hand.  She squeezed it, but wouldn’t look at him.

Suddenly, Peter switched lanes and pulled into a parking lot. 

“Peter, what –

He leaned over and kissed her cheek.  “Be right back,” he said as he hopped out of the SUV.

Five minutes later, he returned with a giant Styrofoam cup in one hand and a normal sized cup in the other.  “Just the way you like it,” he said, as he handed her the giant cup and a straw.

“Ahhhh,” Olivia exhaled after sampling her smoothie.  “How did you know this is what I wanted?” 

Peter smiled broadly and rubbed her cheek with his knuckles before tucking the errant strand of hair behind her ear.  “Strawberry banana mango pineapple kiwi with extra protein and calcium, right?”

She relaxed in the seat, sipping happily.  “What’d you get?”

“Same thing.” 

“But, Peter, you don’t like all that stuff.”

“Oh, it’s not for me, it’s in case you want more.”

Olivia leaned over and pulled Peter to her.  After kissing him, she murmured, “What did I do to deserve you?” 

He chuckled and kissed her again.  “I’m sure you’ve never done anything bad enough to deserve me.”

She smiled and leaned her head back against the headrest.  Peter picked up her free hand and gently massaged it. 

“What are you worrying about, Liv?”

“All these houses… everything we’ve looked at just seems so small, or dirty, or in a bad location.  I can’t imagine raising the peanut in any of them.”

“Not even the house in Brookline?”

“Peter, you know we can’t afford that house.”

“Forget about the money for a minute.  You DO like that one, right?”

She gave him a brief smile.  “You know I do.”

 A couple of days after The News, they’d gone to see the house in Brookline.  It was on a small, tree-lined lot on a quiet street.  It had everything they’d talked about… two stories, center hallway, big windows, a fireplace in the bedroom, a sunny room next to the master bedroom that would be perfect for a nursery.  An attached garage, a well appointed kitchen, and a fully built out basement.

“My Man Cave,” Peter exclaimed when they walked down the stairs.  Olivia laughed, but she had to admit she could see the appeal.  A fully equipped workbench lined one wall.  The walls were exposed brick and the room ran the length of the house.  There was even a small bathroom with a shower. 

 “Let’s go back and take another look at the Brookline house,” Peter suggested as she finished off his drink.

“Peter, what’s the point of looking at it when you know we can’t buy it?  It just makes all the other houses seem worse.”

“I just don’t think you should worry about the money.  Let me worry about that.  You just find the perfect place for the three of us.” 

Olivia glared at him.  “You’re not going to …”

Peter chuckled.  “No, I’m not going to borrow money from Big Eddie OR from Nina Sharp.”

She pursed her lips.  “Peter, I’m serious.  Don’t do something stupid.  If we have to, we can stay in the apartment.”

“Oh, no.  You’re not going to do me out of my Man Cave,” he teased.  “Besides, I think you’re getting a raise.”

She looked at him archly.  “And since when did you get in on the office scuttlebutt?”

“Since Astrid and I have been planning Walter’s move.  She thinks that Broyles got a promotion and BIG funding for the division.”  He started the SUV and headed towards Brookline.  “You should call her, get caught up.” 

:Hmmm,’ she said thoughtfully.  “I might do that.  Can’t have you knowing more about FBI gossip than I do.”  She laid her hand on his right leg and he covered it with his own.

“So, a man cave?  Really?”  She tilted her head inquisitively.  “Is that the only reason you want this house?”

“I thought you liked this house, too,” Peter replied, just a tiny bit defensive.  “But, no, there are a lot of things I like about this house.”

“Name one.”

Peter glanced over at her and smiled.  “The expression on your face when you stood in the nursery.”

Olivia dipped her head for a moment, then turned her hand over and laced her fingers through Peter’s.  “I do like that house.”  She sighed.  “But, Peter, it’s just too expensive.”

“I want you to be happy, Liv.  And if this house makes you happy, then we’ll figure out a way.”  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, then rubbed it against his cheek.

As they turned into the neighborhood, Olivia had on her practical expression.  “Let’s make a list of what we like about this house, and give it to the realtor.  Maybe she can find something else that’s not as expensive.”

‘OK.” Peter was quick to agree with anything that would lift Olivia’s spirits.  “So… Man Cave,”

Olivia swatted him playfully.  “Be serious!”

“I am,” Peter protested.  “I need a place to work… besides the lab. “

Olivia dutifully made a note, but her expression was dubious.  “OK, Man Cave.  What else?”

“It’s your turn.  What do you like?”  They pulled into the driveway and Olivia studied the house.

“I like the porch.”

“I like the porch.  Good place for a porch swing.”

Peter was out of the truck and opening Olivia’s door before she could unbuckle her seat belt.  She shot him an exasperated look, but took his hand as he helped her out of the truck and kissed her cheek.

“Is Kathleen meeting us here?”

“No, she said we could just go on in.”

“Peter… “

“Shhh…”  He turned his back to her, and the street, and in less than a minute, he was ushering her into the house.

“Peter…”  She sounded a bit more irritated this time.

“What you didn’t see, you don’t know about.  Right?”

“Oh, all right, but just this one time.”

“Yes, dear,” Peter replied meekly and looked suitably chastised, which earned him another swat from Olivia as she walked through the central hallway downstairs.

They walked through the house, Olivia making notes and Peter stealing kisses every time he thought he could get away with it.  As they walked into the kitchen, Peter surreptitiously palmed one of the realtor’s cards from those spread on the counter while Olivia opened cabinet doors. 

“Hello?  Hello?”  A strange voice echoed from the entryway.

By instinct, Peter edged himself in front of Olivia, then replied, “Yes?”, ignoring Olivia’s glare.

The voice soon entered the kitchen – a realtor, followed by an affluent-looking couple slightly older than Peter and Olivia.  “Mark Roos, Mark Roos Realtors,” he boomed, as he stuck out his hand.  “And you are…”

“Peter Baldassari, with Hammond,” Peter said, grasping the outstretched hand firmly.  “Here’s my card.”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Roos continued, “but Ms. Bergeron said there were no showings today.”

Peter smoothly maneuvered Olivia towards the door.  “Kathleen’s a friend, she let us come by as a favor.” 

As he passed the other man, Peter leaned over and said, sotto voce, “I wouldn’t go in the back yard, if I were you.  Still haven’t fixed that leak… pretty messy.”  He shook his head slightly, a look of disgust on his face.

Once they were in the entry hall, Olivia hissed, “What the hell?”

Peter didn’t respond until they were out the door, then he turned to Olivia and shrugged.  “Couldn’t have them buying the house out from under us, could I?”  His grin was infectious, and by the time they reached the SUV, they were both laughing.

“I think I’ve had enough house-hunting for today, how about you?”  Peter glanced at Olivia, who gave him a sly smile.

“Why, sure, Mr. Baldassari, but I think I have some questions about that last property.  Do you have time to go over them with me?”  Olivia tried to keep a straight face, but she was struggling.

Peter replied grandly “But, of course…. And your name was…?” 

She swatted him with the sheaf of real estate listings once again, and they headed for home. 

 

Tuesday

 Chapter 6

Peter strolled into the lab at mid-morning.  Olivia was working at the Federal Building downtown for a few days, and he was still working over at the old house, finishing the repairs and tinkering with the appliances and fixtures that needed attention. 

He didn’t see anyone as he entered the lab.  “Walter?  Astrid?”

Astrid hurried out from one of the offices.  “Peter!  Hi, I’m in here.”  She motioned him to join her.

“Hey, Astrid, what’s up?  Where’s Walter?”  Peter surveyed the desk strewn with papers and a legal pad covered with Astrid’s precise handwriting.

“Walter’s packing.  He’s VERY excited, Peter.” Astrid smiled at the Peter’s relaxed form sprawled in front of the desk.  “I never thought I would see the day that Walter would be moving out of the lab and into your house!”

“His house, Astrid.  He and Mo – he and Elizabeth lived there before he went to St. Claire’s.”  Peter smiled wistfully.  “And Walter and I lived there… it’s a good place for Walter to be.”

He glanced at the papers again.  “A case?”

Astrid laughed.  “Oh, not a case… but it IS a detective story.”  She walked to the desk and picked up various pages, then handed them to Peter.

As he perused the documents, a look of surprise crossed his face.  “No, really?  Surely these are worthless by now.”

Astrid shook her head.  “I’ve gone through all the bank statements in that box, talked to every bank, every broker…” A huge smile split her face.  “Walter is a billionaire!”

Peter sank back in the chair.  “Are you sure?”

Astrid shook her head again, this time in disbelief.  “Peter, this is part of my JOB.  Interpreting financial records, tracing leads…  Yes, I’m sure.  Walter is set for life.”

“That’s great.  Great…. I was planning to talk to Broyles about increasing his stipend, now that he was moving out of the lab.  I figured that I could help a little, and he’d be able to make it.”  Peter looked thoughtful. 

Astrid regarded the man before her.  In just a matter of months, he’d gone from a stranger to be observed warily to a catalyst for change, for all of them.  It was almost as if he was the missing piece in their little family, the piece that knit them all together.

“Oh, Peter!  I almost forgot.”  Astrid picked up another folder from the desk.  “I found something else… Walter wanted me to ask you about it.”

She stood in front of Peter and leaned against the desk, holding the folder in front of her.  “Walter wanted to be sure you would accept this… in the spirit that it’s given, before he offered it to you.”

Peter’s brow furrowed and he reached for the folder.  Before letting go, she looked at Peter and spoke softly.  “He really wants you to have this, Peter…. but he doesn’t want you to feel bad about it.”

Once he opened the folder, Peter understood why Astrid had cautioned him.  The document described a trust fund, set up for Peter Albert Bishop in 1978.  The initial deposit was $100,000.  Peter opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. 

Finally, he found his voice.  “Astrid, I can’t take this… Walter, he might need…”

“Walter doesn’t need money.  He would have to live ten lifetimes to spend what he has.  Look at this, Peter.”  Astrid held out her legal pad to him.

“Kelvin Genetics… he and William Bell were sole owners.  Bell turned his share of the partnership into Massive Dynamic stock, and left it to Walter.  Savings accounts and CDs all over town… they haven’t been touched in 20, 25 years.”

Astrid took the papers out of Peter’s hands and clasped them in her own small ones.  “Peter, he doesn’t need the money.  But he needs you to have this.  It’s his way of saying things… a lot of things that he hasn’t figured out how to say to you yet.”

Peter squeezed her hands and nodded.  “Okay, Astrid… you can tell him I’ll accept it.  Maybe I can avoid gainful employment a little longer.”

Astrid laughed again, and breathed an internal sigh of relief.  Walter was afraid to approach Peter directly, afraid he would turn down the peace offering or misunderstand Walter’s intent.

“Well… I’ll let him know, and call the bank to get everything ready.  They said it might take a couple of hours. “

“No problem… I was just planning to clean some of the appliances from the house so Walter could use them.”  Peter stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. 

Astrid grinned.  “Oh, and about that gainful employment?  Broyles wants to see you this afternoon.  He didn’t say what time, but 1 would be good.”

His t-shirt was dusty and his jeans were ripped.  Peter looked down ruefully.  “I spent most of the morning re-wiring the circuit box.  Didn’t expect to be pulling wire in the attic.”

As Astrid walked past him, she dusted a cobweb off his shoulder.  “Drop by after you’ve changed clothes.  The paperwork from the bank should be ready.”

“This is not how I expected today to turn out,” Peter said, shaking his head.

Suddenly, they heard a loud crash and Walter’s voice. 

“Peter, this is Fringe Division.  It NEVER turns out the way you expect it to!” Astrid tossed her remark over her shoulder as she strode purposely into the lab “Walter!  What are you doing?”
 

ooo

Peter returned to the lab a few hours later.  When Astrid spotted him, she nodded approvingly.  He’d donned a clean pair of fairly new jeans, a blue, rust, and gold plaid shirt that Olivia liked, and a blue blazer that deepened the color of his eyes.  A shower had brought some semblance of order to his hair, and he’d even buffed his boots so they were less scruffy.  He didn’t care what Broyles thought, or the bankers, but he was thinking of taking Olivia out for a celebratory dinner after his meetings downtown.

“Walter…” Astrid called out.  “Peter’s here!”  As he walked past her to Walter’s room, she stopped him.  She stood on tiptoes to straighten his collar.  “He’s a little nervous,” she whispered.

“I’ll be good,” Peter whispered back. 

ooo

Walter’s bedroom, a bit cluttered at best, looked as if every drawer had been opened and the contents flung about the room.  Half-emptied boxes were scattered about, with their contents stacked haphazardly next to them. 

“Walter…” Peter looked around the room.  “Are you coming or going?” 

“Peter!” Walter exclaimed.  “Come in, come in.”   He started moving stacks of folders from the couch to the desk.  “Here, sit down.  Now… where did Astrid put that folder…”

Peter stared at him with an amused grin.  “Walter, you called her ‘Astrid’.”

Walter snorted.  “Well, of course, m’boy, that’s her name, isn’t it?”  He swirled about the room, patting each stack of paper.  “A sweet girl, but a bit disorganized for my taste.” Finally, his gaze settled on a folder lying on the desk, labeled ‘Peter’.  “I wonder if this is it?” he mused.

“Ah, yes.  This is it.“  Walter picked up the folder and leafed through the contents.

Walter looked around for a place to sit, but every flat surface, including his fold-out couch, was covered with boxes or papers or boxes filled with paper.  Peter leaned gingerly against the desk, holding both hands out beside him in case a stack of paper decided to shift.

“Peter…. Peter, I know that you’re… That he’s…” Walter’s hands shook slightly and Peter placed his hands over Walter’s.

“Walter, whatever it is, it’s ok.  Just tell me what you want to say.”  Peter clasped his hands reassuringly.

Walter looked down at the papers in his hands, then began again, speaking haltingly.  “When I knew that Elizabeth was with child… one of the few smart things I did was to put some money aside for him.  For college, you know, because any child of mine would be brilliant.” Walter looked up at Peter with a wistful smile, then patted his cheek.

“And I was right.” His eyes were shining, but he soldiered on.  “I can never make up for the things I’ve done to you, Peter…”

“Walter,” Peter spoke in a low voice and grasped Walter’s shoulder.  “None of that.  If we start comparing our sins, we’ll be here all day and we’ll never get you packed up and ready to move.”

“I guess you’re right, son.  And while it’s a little late for a college fund, I suppose…. I hope what little bit is there will help you and Olivia get started.”   He thrust the folder into Peter’s hands.

Peter opened the folder, expecting to feign surprise even though Walter knew Astrid had talked to him about the trust fund.  As he scanned the final documents from the bank, his eyes widened. 

“Walter, this is too much.  I can’t accept this.”  Peter felt a lump in his throat.  He’d done deals involving  this much money, but his take had always been a fraction of this.

“Astrid tells me I have enough money to keep me in Red Vines til I’m 100.  Indulge an old man.”  Walter smiled at Peter.  “Buy Olivia something nice.  Spoil my grandchildren.”

Peter embraced Walter.  This time, Walter showed no hesitation, and patted him on the back.   

“Thanks, Dad.” Peter said, releasing the older man and swiping a hand across his face as he walked out the door.

“You… you called me dad,” Walter said softly.

Without looking back, Peter replied, “Yeah, I guess I did.”

 

Chapter 7

Peter opened the envelope that Broyles handed him and dumped the contents on the conference table.  A badge, a contract, a Massachusetts driver’s license and a Social Security card, a voucher and license for a gun, and a list of pre-requisites for its issue. 

“We spoke with Doctor Bishop about use of his son’s identity for your credentialing.  It was simpler to modify existing records than replace them.”

“And Walter was ok with all that?”

“Yes.”

Peter expected Broyles to elaborate, but he said nothing else, merely sat silent and stone-faced as Peter scanned the contract.

“Everything satisfactory, Mr. Bishop?” Broyles finally broke the silence.

“A gun, huh?  That’s a change from last time,” Peter remarked as he signed the contract. 

“I’d prefer you didn’t use it,” Broyles replied dryly, “but I’d like to know you can defend your partner if it becomes necessary.”

Peter was silent for a moment, then he signed the contract, gathered the badge and the other documents, and stood up, extending his hand to Broyles.  “So would I, sir, so would I.”

He was almost at the door when he turned to Broyles and spoke again.  “About Walter…”

Broyles looked up.  “Yes?”

“You know he’s moving out of the lab?”

“Yes, Agent Farnsworth has been keeping me apprised.  Don’t worry, Bishop, his status is in no danger with you joining us.  Farnsworth tells me the two of you make quite a team.”

Peter smiled and nodded.  “Yes, sir, I think so, too.” 

“Oh, and Bishop?”

Peter stopped, halfway out the door.

“You don’t have any problems reporting to Agent Dunham, taking orders from her?”

He chuckled, evoking a raised eyebrow from Broyles.  “No, sir, I’m quite accustomed to that.  It won’t be a problem, sir.”  He touched his brow in a mock salute and walked down the hallway, still chuckling.

Once out of the Federal Building, Peter headed toward the bank.  Astrid had assured him that the trust officer would be available to see him ANY time.  Kathleen Bergeron, their realtor, was meeting him at the bank at 2:30, and he was meeting Olivia back at the Federal Building at 4.

ooo

Two hours later, Peter was back at the Federal Building.  Everything had gone much smoother than he expected.  He made a mental note to buy Astrid a huge bouquet of flowers; he was sure she had a hand in making things happen so effortlessly.

He used his new badge to gain entrance to the elevators; it was nice not to need an escort again.  He found Olivia’s office easily, and, as expected, she was absorbed in a stack of case file. 

“Agent Dunham?”  He knocked on her doorframe.

She looked up, but her face softened and she smiled when she saw Peter standing in her doorway.

Peter walked over to her desk and laid his badge in front of her.  “Your new consultant, reporting for duty.”

Olivia picked up his badge and examined it.  “Your picture’s better this time.  You don’t look as pissed off.”

Peter plucked it from her fingers and attached it to the lapel of his blazer.  “So… when’s quitting time, boss?”  He sat in one of her desk chairs and stretched his legs. 

“First day on the job, and he’s already trying to get off work.” 

Peter shrugged.  “What can I say… I’m hoping for a hot date tonight.”

Olivia eyed him.  “Well, you do clean up nice.  Who’s the lucky girl?”

“You feel lucky today, sweetheart?” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes, but began stacking folders back into the box behind her desk.  “You know fraternizing between agents is frowned upon.  You don’t want to be breaking rules on your first day.”

“Good thing I’m not an agent, then.” Peter stood up and helped Olivia into her jacket.  “How about Damiano’s?” He rested his hands on her shoulders

Olivia touched one of his hands briefly.  “How did you know?  I’ve been craving their braciole all day.”

“Ah, the food of love.  Shall we?”  Peter offered his arm and was more than a little surprised when Olivia took it, and walked, arms linked, through the bullpen to the elevators. 

When they entered the empty elevator, Olivia slid her hand down to Peter’s and clasped it, fingers entwined. 

Peter squeezed her hand.  “I thought FBI agents frowned on PDA,” he murmured. 

Olivia laughed before responding.  “Well, Peter, I’ll be visibly pregnant before too long.  I guess holding hands is acceptable in light of that.”

“How about kissing?  Is kissing acceptable?”  Peter leaned over and brushed her lips quickly.

“Only in the elevators.  Otherwise, I might have to shoot you.”

“Ah, but if you do that, who will buy you braciole?” 

ooo

It was still early when they walked into Damiano’s; only a few tables were occupied, but no matter how crowded they were, it was never a problem to get their favorite table, tucked in a narrow hallway between the kitchen and the main dining room.  Mrs. Damiano made her usual fuss over Peter as they came in, and even hugged Olivia, giving her a knowing look.  She whispered to Peter in Italian, who beamed and answered her in kind.

“What was that all about?”  Olivia asked him once they were seated in their little nook.

Peter assumed his most innocent expression.  “What was what all about?”

Before Olivia could interrogate him, one of the Damiano boys brought an ice bucket on a stand with two bottles poking out of the ice.  He set the bucket next to the table with a flourish, then looked at Peter, who nodded for him to continue.

“Peter?  What is all this?” Olivia eyed the ice bucket suspiciously.  “You know…”

“Relax, it’s sparkling grape juice.”  Peter smiled as he handed her a champagne flute filled with a sparkly golden liquid.    “We really haven’t celebrated… well, we haven’t celebrated anything, and we have a lot to celebrate.”

Olivia kept her gaze on Peter as she sipped the sparkling juice.  “I’m listening…”

Peter slid around the banquet and put his arm around Olivia, kissing her cheek. 

“Let’s see… we saved the world, again.  Walter’s moving out of the lab.  I have a job and you got a raise.  We’re having a baby.  And… “  Peter pulled documents out of his blazer pocket and smoothed them out in front of Olivia.  “We bought a house!”

Peter looked at Olivia hopefully, expectantly, almost holding his breath.

“Peter… you didn’t!”

“Yep.  The Brookline house.  All you have to do is sign the papers and it’s ours.”  Peter leaned back with a satisfied look on his face.

“Peter, how could you?”

His face fell.

“How could you make sure a big decision without asking me first?  You know it’s too expensive for us.”

Olivia stood up and dropped her napkin on the table, gave Peter a look fraught with daggers, and walked swiftly in the direction of the restrooms.

When Mrs. Damiano walked by their table, she expected to see her favorite couple snuggling and happy – instead she found Peter, alone, staring at the broker’s papers on the table, with a bewildered look on his face.

“Qual è il problema di mio figlio?”  She sat down next to Peter and took his hands in hers.

He started to tell her about buying the house they both wanted, when she patted him on the cheek and asked, “Quanto tempo incinta?”

“How did you know?” Peter asked her, astonished.

“Ah, Il mio ragazzo dolce....” She patted his cheek again.  “When a couple that drinks a bottle or two of wine with dinner every time comes in and orders grape juice... it’s either Lent or a baby.  And it’s not Lent.” 

She slid out of the banquet booth and shook her head.  “Let me talk to her, una donna ad un altro.”

Peter grabbed her hand and kissed it.  “Grazie, Mama Damiano, grazie.”

Mrs. Damiano found Olivia exactly where and how she expected to find her, in the ladies room with tears streaming down her face.  She pulled a linen napkin out of her cavernous apron pockets, soft from hundreds of launderings, dampened it with cool water, and handed it to Olivia as she guided her to the loveseat in the corner.

“Tell me…” she told Olivia.

Olivia took a deep breath, wiped her face with the napkin, opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it abruptly as more tears streamed down her face.

Mrs. Damiano patted her shoulder and settled back on the loveseat.  After a minute or so, Olivia took one last deep breath and turned to Mrs. Damiano.  “Is it this bad the whole time?”

“No, child.  Sometimes it’s better, sometimes it’s worse.”  She took the napkin from Olivia’s hands and dampened it again with cool water.  “How far along?”

“Just a few months.  We just found out a couple of weeks ago.”

“Ahh… your first, his first?”  She nodded understandingly.  “What did he do?”

“He bought a house… we’ve been looking at it, it’s perfect – but it’s more than we have to spend.”  Tears welled in her eyes again.  “And he didn’t even ask me, he just did it.” 

Mrs. Damiano pulled Olivia into her arms.  “Sara bene, sara bene,” she murmured.  “You are a strong woman, si?  Used to taking care of yourself?”

Olivia nodded.

“And you know, your Pietro, he loves you very much?”

Olivia nodded again, a small smile on her face thinking back to a few nights ago, and the story of Pietro Cardinale.

“Men… a good man wants to protect you and take care of you, even when you don’t need it.”  Mrs. Damiano looked at Olivia, making sure her English was making sense.  “You should let him.  He has nothing to do til the baby comes.  Let him feel useful.”

Olivia nodded and pressed the cloth against her reddened eyes.

“It will be good practice for him.  When the bambinos come.  He will know the pride of taking care of his own.”

“He’s very good at that – he always has been.  Oh, and he thinks I’m angry with him now.”  She stood up and smoothed her hair.

“Go… go.” Mrs. Damiano stood up and kissed Olivia on both cheeks, then shooed her out of the restroom.  “Ah, mio bambini.”  She shook her head and followed slowly.

Olivia and Peter were standing in the hall leading to the kitchen, embracing.  Peter was stroking her hair and murmuring into her ear.  Mrs. Damiano started humming an old Italian lullaby to announce her presence.  Olivia looked up and smiled, then mouthed ‘thank you’.

As she passed the couple, Mrs. Damiano embraced them both, and whispered, “Mio bambini,” then walked into the kitchen. 

 

Saturday

Chapter 8

Peter’s cell phone started buzzing at 6 am. 

“Walter… Astrid will be there at 8.  We’ll be there at 9.  The movers will be there at 10.  Go back to sleep.”

When he called back for the third time, Peter groaned and stumbled out of bed. 

Olivia found him in the kitchen, making a Via instant coffee.  “Peter,” she sighed, filling the coffee pot with water, “you don’t have to do that on my account.”

Peter put his hands over hers, dumped the water, and replaced the pot.  “No need to make you smell the coffee brewing if you can’t have any.  This is fine for me, Liv.”  He brushed his lips over her forehead.

Olivia sighed heavily.  “Peter, I’m going to be pregnant for 6 more months.  You’ve got to stop treating me this way.”

Peter set his mug on the counter and encircled Olivia with his arms.  “I LIKE treating you this way.  I want to take care of you, Livia, you and the peanut.”

She sighed again, and rolled her eyes.  “Peter…”

“I know, I know, you’re fine.  You’re a badass FBI agent,” he said with a grin on his face, “and you won’t break.”

“Right… so don’t baby me today, okay?  It’s going to take all three of us to get Walter settled.”

He nodded.  “Yeah, but let me do the heavy lifting.  Please.” He nuzzled noses and gave her his best ‘puppy dog’ look, the one she has trouble resisting… most of the time.

“Fine.  But I’m not just going to sit there,” she said with a determined tone in her voice.

“You and Astrid can take turns managing Walter and unpacking.  That’s more than enough to keep you both busy.”

Peter pulled her closer for a kiss, but before she could relax in his embrace, his cell phone buzzed again.  With his own exasperated sigh, Peter showed her the screen.  “Walter.  Again.”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and went off to take her shower.  She heard him talking patiently to Walter and smiled.  Peter really was good at taking care of his people, even when it was, in her case, unnecessary and somewhat irritating. 

ooo

Olivia was fuming.  Sitting on a stool in the entry hall of the Bishop house and fuming. 

Peter was unloading boxes from the rental truck.  Astrid and Walter were unpacking those boxes.  And every time she tried to pick up a box, move a box, or empty a box, Peter was at her elbow, telling her not to overdo, to take it easy, to sit down.  Olivia was wishing for her gun, but it was locked in the glove compartment of her Pathfinder. 

She heard Peter’s footsteps on the porch and took a deep breath, then opened the door.  Peter carried two boxes; his curls were plastered to his head, and his t-shirt had a damp streak down the middle of his back. 

“Peter, please let me help you.  You’re going to kill yourself.”  Olivia wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“I’m fine, honey.  And all that’s left are the heavy boxes.”

“That’s why you’re bringing them in two at a time?”  Olivia eyed Peter suspiciously. 

He avoided her question.  “Can you tell where these need to go?”

She examined the boxes.  “Macrobiology.”

“Kitchen,“ Peter said, and headed in that direction. 

“How did you figure that out?” she asked, marveling again at how the Bishops’ minds worked.

“Macrobiology, kitchen.  Microbiology, bathroom.”  Peter turned to face her and shrugged.  “It’s a Walter thing.”

As he walked back out, Peter gently steered Olivia back to her perch and kissed her forehead.  “I’m going to unload the rest of the boxes here, before the rooms get too cluttered.  DO NOT move these boxes, ok?  Walter or I can move them to the right room as they unpack what they’ve already got.”

Olivia gave him a dirty look.  “Peter…” she said with a sharp edge to her voice.  “I hate just sitting here.”

“We’re almost done, hon.  Then you can go with me to return the truck, and we’ll get lunch.”  He kissed her again and headed back outside.

ooo

“Walter?  Walter, I need you at the truck,” Peter called from the entry hall.  There was already a sizable pile of boxes, neatly stacked next to the staircase. 

Walter strolled out from the kitchen, eating a pudding pop.  “What is it, son?  Do you need help?”

“Walter, what did you pack in those boxes marked ‘liber libri opusculus’?  They’re so heavy I can’t even pick them up.” 

“Oh, yes, those boxes.  The boys that helped us load the truck commented on those, too.” 

“What the HELL is in those boxes?”

“Just extra copies of my textbooks.  I decided to keep a copy at home, in addition to the copies at the lab.  In case I needed something to read at night.”

Peter sighed.  “Okay, Walter.  Bring some of the boxes you’ve already emptied, we’ll have to put fewer books in each box.”

Olivia started to stand up, but decided it just wasn’t worth arguing about when she saw the worried look on Peter’s face.  They would definitely be discussing this later though, she thought.

Walter and Astrid trooped outside, their arms full of empty boxes.  Astrid smiled at her sympathetically, and Olivia shrugged her shoulders with a ‘What can you do?’ expression on her face.

Olivia stared at the pile of boxes, focusing her anger.  Suddenly, one of the boxes on top of the stack fell to the floor, startling her.  She jumped up and looked around to see if Peter was playing a trick on her, trying to get back in her good graces.  She could still hear his voice outside at the truck.

Convinced that it was just poorly placed, or the contents had shifted, she plunked back down on her stool and began her contemplation of the stack again, her irritation growing.  Peter had been treating her like a fragile china doll, and she’d had enough.  They were going to settle this…

One of the fallen boxes turned over.  And another fell off the stack.  Olivia’s eyes widened.  Was SHE doing this?  She concentrated on one of the boxes… nothing.  A different box… nothing.

Finally, she convinced herself that it was purely coincidental. 

Stupid boxes.  Stupid move.  Stupid Peter for making her feel useless.

Another box crashed to the floor.  She WAS doing this. 

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the box closest to her, thought about how much she hated sitting around.  She imagined kicking the box.

And it moved about 6 inches.

She’d show Peter.  She concentrated on how pissed off she was at him, and imagined the boxes turning to display their labels.  In a few minutes, she had boxes scooting along the floor to the kitchen and the dining room.  She felt a little dizzy, probably from the heat, and leaned back against the wall.

One more stack left. 

Put them on the floor one by one.  Damn Peter and his over-protectiveness.  Now, what did he say?  Microbiology goes to the bathroom.

She wasn’t sure WHICH bathroom, so she decided to go for broke and try to move the box up the stairs to the bathroom in the hallway on the second floor.  Another glare and the box slid over to the stairs.

She thought about Peter buying the Brookline house without even mentioning it to her.  They hadn’t really talked about it since that night at Damiano’s.  How DARE he do that?

The box tumbled up one step.

Does he think he can run my life, just because I’m having his child?

The box hopped to the next step.

Olivia started to feel a little dizzier.  Maybe all this anger was making her blood pressure go up.  She’d get the box up to the landing, just because I can, and then she’d quit. 

 

Chapter 9

“Astrid!  Call 911!”

Olivia heard Peter yelling far off in the distance.  Did something happen at the truck?

She struggled to stand up; when she opened her eyes, she was cradled in Peter’s arms.  He had a panicked look on his face that was only slightly lessened when she focused on him.

“Livia, what happened?  Are you ok?  Does anything hurt?  How do you feel?” Peter tightened his embrace as she continued to struggle.

“Peter… Peter, I’m fine.  What do you mean, what happened?”  She looked around.

They were sitting on the floor in the middle of the entry hall.  The stool she’d been perched on was on its side.  The box she’d been guiding upstairs was on the floor, empty and upside down at the bottom of the staircase; the contents were strewn halfway down the stairs.

“Were you trying to move these boxes?  Liv, I TOLD you not to carry the boxes!”  Now that Olivia had regained consciousness and seemed no worse for wear, Peter’s anxiety turned to anger. 

Olivia shook off Peter’s arms and stood up.  Her head spun and she closed her eyes.  When she opened them again, Walter and Astrid were standing in the doorway, with concerned looks on their faces.  Astrid held her cell phone in her hand.

“Peter, do you still want me to call 911?’

“Yes!”

“NO!” Olivia glared at him.  “I’m – “

“Fine.  No, you’re not fine.  I found you passed out on the floor, Olivia!”  Peter glared right back at her.  “What the HELL were you doing?”  He clenched his jaw, a tell-tale sign that the famous Bishop temper was about to ignite.

Olivia looked at Walter and Astrid, then back at Peter.  “I am not having this conversation here.  I’m going home.” She brushed past the pair in the doorway, and never looked back. 

Peter immediately strode after her, but Astrid stopped him.  “Peter… let me talk to her.   Maybe she’ll let me drive her home?” 

Peter nodded curtly, then trudged back into the house. 

Walter spoke tentatively.  “Peter?”

“Not now, Walter.  Just… not now.”  He walked into the kitchen and got a drink of water.  He stood at the sink overlooking the back yard, sipping from the tumbler and thinking about the last time he and Olivia stood here, gazing at the backyard and talking about the future. 

Why can’t she understand that I’m just worried about her?  About her and about our baby. 

Walter entered the kitchen and stood silently with him at the window.  Finally, Peter broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, Walter.  I just needed a minute to calm down.”  He looked at the older man.  “Did you need something?”

“She’ll be alright, Peter.  Even if she was using her telekinesis to move those boxes.”

“How can you KNOW that, Walter?”  Peter started to get angry again.  “You don’t know how the Cortexiphan is affecting her, how it could be affecting the baby. “

“I CAN tell you that her body will protect itself.  She fainted before she could harm herself, or the baby.”

“How do you know, Walter?”  Peter’s voice broke.  “I can’t lose her again.”  He turned away from Walter and stared at the backyard again, blinking rapidly.

He felt Walter’s hand on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, son,” Walter spoke quietly.  “What Bellie and I did all those years ago…”

“I just want her to be ok.  I NEED her to be ok.” 

Walter squeezed his shoulder, then patted him on the back.  “I found something while Aspirin and I were unpacking.  I want you to have it.”

“Astrid, Walter, Astrid,” Peter said wearily.

“Whatever…”  Walter pulled a small object from his pocket and held it out to Peter.  “It was your moth – it was Elizabeth’s.”

It was an oval shaped emerald, a deep, dark green, set in an old-fashioned filigreed setting of rose gold with small diamonds circling the emerald’s open setting and embedded in the sides.  The setting was delicate, but the ring had a surprising weight to it as Peter held it in the palm of his hand.

“Emeralds are thought to be symbols of love, and hope.  It was handed down though the women in Elizabeth’s family.  She remembered her great-grandmother wearing it… “

“The one that lived on O’Connell Street in Dublin?” Peter interjected.

“The very one,” Walter nodded.  Sadness passed across his face.  “When Elizabeth wore this, we used to talk about giving it to our daughter-in-law one day… “ Walter paused, his mind transported to a long ago time.  “And then she put it away, and we didn’t talk about those things anymore.”        

Peter closed his hand around the ring and looked at Walter, sympathy in his eyes.

“The other Elizabeth came to see me, did I tell you that?” 

Peter shook his head.

“Before we knew what happened to you – she came to see me in the lab.  She wanted me to help you.  She… she talked about not seeing our sons grow up, fall in love, have children…  I’d like to think that both of them, both Elizabeths, would want you to have this for Olivia.”

Peter smiled wistfully.  “I’d like to see her again.  Introduce her to my Olivia.” He grimaced.  “If she’s still MY Olivia. Walter, what I am doing wrong?”

Walter shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands in the universal signal of male bewilderment.  “Go on.  I can finish unpacking and Allegra has probably calmed her down by now.”

“Thank you,” Peter said, looking down at the ring.  “I’ll take her pizza and jewelry.  She probably won’t shoot me then.”

“You’re a good man, Peter,” Walter said as he patted him on the shoulder again.  “And don’t forget the pizza.”

ooo

Peter turned his key in the lock, but Astrid opened it, her finger to her lips.  He listened… nothing but the low whoosh of the ceiling fan he had recently installed in their bedroom.  “Olivia?” he mouthed. 

“Asleep,” Astrid whispered.

Peter held up the pizza and motioned toward the kitchen, then followed Astrid through the living room.

“She fell asleep on the way home,” Astrid responded to his unasked questions.  “She took a shower, drank several glasses of water, and then went to bed.  I talked her into letting me stay until you got here, just in case she needed anything.”

Peter closed his eyes. He was still angry, but more at himself for losing his temper than at Olivia now. 

“I think, once she calmed down, she had a chance to think about what happened, and it scared her a little bit, too.” 

He sat down heavily and ran his hand through his hair.  Astrid sat across from him, and put a comforting hand on his arm.  “Don’t be too angry with her, Peter.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes.  Peter finally spoke, in a low, quiet voice.  “I should be making her life easier, and I think all I’ve done is drive her crazy.”

“Well…. “ Astrid hesitated.  “She knows you love her.  But if the Olivia YOU know is anything like the Olivia I know… she’s used to taking care of herself, and it’s hard to let someone else take care of her.”

Peter nodded.  “That’s our Olivia.”

Astrid stood up and looked around for her jacket.  “Unless you need something else, I’d better get back over to your – Walter’s house.  I promised him a trip to the grocery if he was good.” 

“Thank you,” Peter said, still in a quiet voice as they moved back into the living room.  “You’ve done so much for Walter, and for Olivia.”

“But you’ve made them happy, Peter.  Walter is more… normal than I’ve ever seen him.”

Peter chuckled.  “Normal is a relative term for Walter.”

“And Olivia… It was always like there was something missing in her life, but she doesn’t seem that way anymore.”  To Astrid’s surprise, almost as much as Peter’s, she found herself wrapping her arms around his lanky frame and giving him a quick hug before heading toward the door. 

“Call me if you –“

“Is that Regina’s pizza I smell?” 

They turned to see Olivia wandering in from the bedroom in yoga pants and a black camisole with sleep-tousled hair.

Peter stared at her for a long minute and then smiled cautiously.  “Hey.”

Astrid jumped into the awkward pause and said “You two know where I’ll be.  Call me if you need anything.”  She and Olivia shared a meaningful glance, she patted Peter’s hand, and then she was gone.

 

Chapter 10

When Peter turned from the doorway, Olivia had wandered into the kitchen and pulled a slice of pizza out of the box, munching it while standing up. 

Peter walked into the kitchen and picked up a slice of pizza.  “You want something to drink?” he asked Olivia, not looking at her.  He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, popped the cap, and sat down at the kitchen table.

“So… are we gonna be weird around each other for a while, or we gonna work this out?” he said after a long silence.

Olivia seemed to be considering her options.  She dropped into a chair, and pulled another slice of pizza out of the box.  “Good pizza,” she murmured.

“Olivia….”

She looked up at him, her green eyes piercing in her stare.  “Full disclosure?”

Peter looked up quickly, a smile on his face.  He took her free hand in his, and rubbed her palm with his thumb.  “Full disclosure,” he agreed. 

“Peter, you are driving me batshit crazy.”

“Could you be a little more direct?” Peter, as usual, was using his sardonic humor as a shield.  Olivia searched his face for an indication of how he felt underneath the sarcasm, but saw nothing.

“I’m pregnant.  I’m not sick, I’m not injured.  I’m not going to break, I’m just going to have a baby.”   She pulled her hand away.  “You’ve got to stop treating me like this.”

“Like what, Olivia?  I’m getting tired of seeing you dead, forgive me if I’m a little over-protective.”  His voice was tight.  He glared at her, looking much like he did in the lab as her memories of him were returning.  He was scared then, scared that he was somehow harming Olivia, and angry that Walter was blaming him for the changes in her memory.

“A little,” she snorted.  “And you’re exaggerating.”

“Not even a month ago, you WERE DEAD.  Three years ago, you WERE DEAD.  When I saw you on the floor at Walter’s house, you looked like you WERE DEAD."  He stood up abruptly and the chair pitched backwards.  When it hit the floor, Olivia jumped.

“Peter, think about our lives.  I might be dead tomorrow, but not because I picked up a box, or I carried a sack of groceries home.”

Peter had his back to her; his fists were clenched and his back was rigid.  “There are a lot of things in this world that I can’t do anything about, but you do not get to tell me to stop protecting you from the things I CAN do something about.”

“Peter, you’re overreacting.”  Olivia’s tone was flat.

“Because I found you lying in the middle of the floor at Walter’s?  Passed out cold?”  Peter was pacing now.  “Walter himself admitted he doesn’t know everything that the Cortexiphan could be doing to you.”

“Don’t you think I know that?  I live with that every day, Peter.  I’m a freak.”

“You are not a freak.”  Peter sat down heavily on the couch, leaned back, and ran his hand over his face.  “But there are a lot of things we don’t know, Liv.  Can you blame me for worrying about you?”  He was met with silence and sighed in frustration.  “Yep, I guess you can.” 

Olivia set his beer on the coffee table in front of him and stroked his disheveled hair back into some semblance of order. 

“And Peter, I wish you hadn’t bought the house.  Even if I do get a raise, that’s a lot of money.  You should’ve talked to me first.” 

“You’re right.”  Peter caught her hand, still tangled in his curls, and tugged at her to sit down beside him.  “But I wanted to surprise you.  I wanted to give you something.” He kissed the palm of her hand, and held it against his cheek. 

“Most people give their girlfriends flowers, or jewelry.  Not houses, Peter.” She pulled her hand away. 

Peter took a long swig of beer, then sat mutely, rolling the bottle between his hands and studying it as if it held some closely-guarded secret.  After several uncomfortably silent minutes, he took another swig, then stood up and headed to the kitchen.  Olivia could hear the bottle clank as it rattled into the recycling bin.

When Peter came back into the room, he didn’t sit down again, but headed to the coat rack near the door.  “Are you feeling ok?  Do you need anything?”

“Where are you going, Peter?”

“I need to take a walk.  Clear my head.”  He slipped on a jacket and patted his pockets.  “Call me if you need anything, or if you’re feeling faint again.”

And then he was gone. 

Olivia was dumbfounded.  Peter didn’t sound angry anymore, he just sounded…. tired.  And a little sad. 

She ate another slice of pizza, cleaned up the kitchen, and tried to occupy herself with something to read.  She turned on the television, but the noise was more irritating that distracting.  As the evening drug on, with no sign of Peter returning, she began to worry.   

She KNEW he wasn’t leaving her, she knew that down to her bones; but they didn’t know what else Bell might be doing, or his shapeshifters.  She’d been in Fringe Division long enough to know that ANYTHING could happen.  She might be furious with Peter, but she wasn’t ready to lose him again. 

At 9, she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She brought her pillow from the bedroom and wrapped the quilt around her.  They kept it on the back of the couch; when they watched those cheesy sci-fi and horror movies that Peter was so fond of (she was too, to be honest), they’d snuggle under it.  It was one of those things that she thought she’d never have – someone who understood her fucked up life and loved her anyway, someone who relished those moments of normality just as she did. 

And Peter WAS that guy – but she still didn’t understand why he’d been so overwhelmingly protective lately.  She didn’t remember him ever being so smothery; not after they’d starting sleeping together, and certainly not before.  Surely her pregnancy wasn’t bringing out those paternal feelings already?  Even if they were, he needed to back off.  She couldn’t stand this for five more months.

She was too comfortable, and too tired, to do her yoga stretches tonight – but she did practice her breathing and relaxation techniques.  And when she closed her eyes, just for a minute, the next thing she heard was Peter’s key in the lock, and his quiet footsteps as he entered the apartment.  She sat up and watched him as he hung his jacket by the door, and checked the lock.

“Peter,” she said quietly.  As he walked around the couch, she pulled the quilt around her to make room for him to sit down.  He pulled his keys and phone from his pocket and laid them on the coffee table.

He looked at her uncertainly, trying to judge her mood.  “How are you –“ he spoke, but caught himself in mid-sentence.

“I feel fine, Peter.  Are YOU ok?” 

“I walked over to Walter’s,” he volunteered.  “He was settling in for the night.  Glad to be home.”  Peter looked down at his hands. 

He seemed tired, almost defeated, Olivia thought, judging by the slump of his shoulders.  “How’s your shoulder?  You carried a lot of boxes today.”

He shrugged, and said quietly, “It’s ok.”

They sat there in an uncomfortable silence, Peter staring down at his hands and Olivia biting her lip.

Finally, speaking in that same muted tone, he said, “You should go to bed.”  He didn’t look up as she stood, wrapping the quilt around her.

Olivia extended her hand to him.  When he didn’t move, she nudged him with her leg.  “C’mon… come to bed.  I know you’re tired.”

“I think I’ll sit up a while longer,” he mumbled.

She huffed and sat on the coffee table in front of him, draped in the quilt.  “Sit up and sulk, you mean?”  She studied Peter’s face for a reaction; when he continued his downward stare, she cupped his cheek in her hand and tilted his face up to hers.  He was tired, and his eyes were red-rimmed.  His cheeks were still chilled, and a bit rosy from the night air, and Olivia placed her other hand on his face to warm them.

“Peter… what is it?  Are you still upset with me about this afternoon?”

To her surprise, he pulled away from her, wearily leaning back against the couch.  “Go to bed, Olivia.”

She leaned toward him.  “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” 

I can be as stubborn as he can.

Peter clenched his jaw, a sure sign that he was biting back a response.  Olivia sat calmly, still wrapped in the quilt, watching his face. 

He opened his mouth to speak, and at the same time, his phone vibrated on the coffee table.  As he picked it up and glanced at the screen before answering, Olivia’s eyes fell on his keyring.

“Walter…” Peter spoke gently into the phone.  They’d expected some handholding with Walter; even though he wanted the move into his old house, they knew it would be an adjustment for the man who’d spent the last 20 years institutionalized or barricaded in his lab at Harvard.

 

Chapter 11

As Peter talked to Walter in a soothing voice, Olivia picked up his keys.  Key to his – no, to Walter’s house, key to the lab, key to her apartment… and a new key, shiny and unworn.  A key to the Brookline house?  And on a little chain of its own, looped through the keyring, was a small, dented piece of metal.

She rubbed it between her fingers, studying Peter’s face as he reassured Walter.

“Go to bed, Walter.  And call me if you need to, it’s ok.”  Peter smiled at her briefly as he hung up and replaced the phone on the table. 

“He’s ok?”

Peter nodded.  “Just needed a little reassurance.’  He nodded towards the keyring in her hands.  “I have keys for you, too, but there hasn’t been a good time…” His voice trailed off and he looked down at his hands again. 

Olivia huffed in frustration.  “Peter… why did you buy the house without talking to me about it?”

He looked at her directly for the first time that night, and in an even tone, said, “Because I wanted something that was mine.”

Olivia tilted her head, a puzzled look on her face.

‘Think about it, Olivia.  When I popped out of Reiden Lake, I had nothing.  Until the FBI bought me clothes, all I had was a hospital gown.  If you and Lincoln hadn’t convinced Broyles that I could be useful, I’d still be in that goddamned cell, or worse."

Olivia was shaking her head, taken aback at the bitterness in his voice.

“And then I was living in Walter’s house.  With borrowed clothes.  An FBI babysitter.  No one remembered me, not even the woman I loved.”  His voice cracked a little. 

It was Olivia’s turn to look down at her hands.  She still felt a wave of remorse when she was reminded of the days when she looked at Peter and saw a stranger, although those memories were fading quickly. 

“I was the Nowhere Man, Liv.  You didn’t know me, my friends didn’t know me…” He grimaced.  “Well, Markham didn’t know me, I guess that’s almost the same as a friend.”

“You saw him before – “

“Yeah, after I was off the leash, I visited some of my old haunts.  Markham’s, the Milky Way, Big Eddie’s hangout…”

Olivia sucked in a breath at the mention of Big Eddie. 

“Walked right past him, and he didn’t even blink.  Drank a beer right next to his goons.  Because I never existed, Olivia…”

He slumped, silent again.  When he started to speak again, he looked at Olivia and she could see the sadness had returned to his eyes. 

“When Broyles gave me my credentials… they created my identity from Walter’s real son.”  His voice dropped to a whisper.  “I only exist because of a boy who died 25 years ago.” 

Olivia reached over and clasped his hand.

“And you, Liv.  I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t brought me back.”

She shook her head again, her hair masking her face and the tears that were welling in her eyes.

“No, it’s true.  September told me.  He said that YOU brought me back.” 

“Peter, how is that possible?”

He chuckled.  “Everything that’s happened to us and you have trouble believing that?”

When she looked up at him, he was smiling wistfully.  He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek in his hand. 

“I’ve told you before, Liv… You ARE my home.  You’ve always been.”

He brushed his thumb against her cheek.  “You dragged my sorry ass back to Boston, and then you gave me a reason to stay.’

She looked up at him, a tiny smile on her face; it reminded him of the expression she’d worn that day in the bitter Boston cold, when they’d finished their case and she’d talked him into staying, into taking care of Walter.  If he was honest with himself, that was the day he accepted the idea that he’d be taking care of her, too. 

“I didn’t realize how much you meant to me, Olivia, until I saw you in the hospital, after the wreck, when you came back from Bell’s office.”  He paused, a stricken expression on his face.  “The doctors had already talked to Rachel.  Even Walter thought you were gone.”

Olivia squeezed his hand encouragingly.  “But I wasn’t.  I woke up.  I was ok, Peter.”

“But before you woke up… I was already planning to leave, there was nothing to keep me here if you were gone.”   

“What about Walter?  You wouldn’t have stayed for him?”

“Maybe.  I dunno.  I just wanted to get far away from a place that didn’t have you in it anymore.”

Peter sighed and brought their clasped hands to his lips, kissing her fingers.  “I didn’t belong anywhere, Livia, until you came after me.  I was always somebody’s asset, somebody’s tool.”

He moved restlessly, as if dredging up the memories of his past were uncomfortable.

‘I didn’t know who Peter Bishop was… I was always a reflection of whatever anybody needed me to be.  Paul King, Pat Knight, Pete Blaine…’

“Pietro Cardinale,”  Olivia murmured.

“Yeah, Pietro…” Peter looked at her and smiled softly, thinking back to the night not too long ago, when everything seemed right in his world, for a change.

“You were the first person… “ He paused, and blinked a couple of times.  “You were the first person, since my – since Elizabeth, who saw through all that.  You saw me for who I was.”

Olivia squeezed his hand.

“She saw that… and it killed her.  The guilt.”

“Peter…”

“Olivia, you know it’s true.  I didn’t understand it until… “ His voice trailed off.  “Do you remember?”

She nodded once.  “I was guilty, too.  I couldn’t look you in the face.”

‘But when I ran, you came after me… again.  You were always my home, Olivia… no matter how much I tried to fuck things up.  So much happened… but you were my constant.  You accepted me for who I was… who I could become.  You gave me a place to call home.”

‘You told me that in Westfield, remember?”

‘In the high school lab.”  He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.  “You remember that?”

“I remember wishing that I was the woman you were talking about.”

“You’ve always been home for me.”  He looked at his keys, still grasped in her other hand.  “After coming back this time… with nothing that was really mine…”

Olivia started to protest, but Peter pressed a finger to her lips, then stroked her cheek as he resumed. “I wanted something that belonged to me.  I went to the place where I’d left my bugout bag.”

Olivia cocked an eyebrow at him, but he just shook his head and continued.  “I went to the guy’s apartment.  He didn’t even know me.  I went back when I knew he wasn’t there and searched the place.”

“Peter...”

Peter held out his hands in a placating gesture.  “He never knew, Olivia.  And I knew exactly where I’d left it – I built the hidey-hole for it.  It wasn’t there – not the bag, not the hiding place, nothing.   Because I didn’t exist.”

“I don’t understand.  What does that have to do with the house?”

“I was even more determined to have something that was mine.” He ran his hands through his hair.  “When we finally managed to get back to each other,” he smiled ruefully, “And then when you told me you were pregnant...”

He smiled at her, the light returning to his eyes.

“I knew.  I knew I had to give you what you had given me, all this time.  I needed to do this.”

“But, Peter, the money.  You know that house is too much for us.”

‘Liv… I haven’t had a chance to tell you…”

‘Tell me what, Peter?  Seems like there’s a lot…” She stopped.  As much as she wanted to make her point, Peter was opening up to her in a way he seldom did.  She tried to arrange her face into a neutral expression as he walked over to his coat and pulled a sheaf of papers from the inside pocket.

“Walter gave me this.”  He handed her the top sheet from the stack and dropped the remainder on the coffee table, then sat on the couch. 

Olivia shifted to the couch and tucked one leg under her as she read.  Her eyes grew wider as she scanned the page.  Trust Fund for Peter Albert Bishop…  When she reached the bottom of the page, she gasped.

“The Brookline house didn’t even put a dent in it,” he said as he reached for her free hand and brought it to her lips.  “I wanted to tell you at Damiano’s, but…”

“But I got upset, and never gave you a chance to explain.” Olivia closed her eyes.   “I’m sorry, Peter.  I guess I was the one that overreacted this time.”

He smiled, and for the first time that night, it filled his face and his blue eyes sparkled again.  He covered her slightly rounded stomach with his hand and rubbed it gently.  “You have an excuse, hon… just give me a chance, though, next time, ok?”

She finally felt the icy wall between them was melting, and she scooted close enough to him to rest her head on his shoulder.

“I wanted to repay the favor,” he whispered as he pulled her into an embrace.

“Hmm?” Olivia snuggled into his arms.

“I wanted to give you a home.  I wanted to give you something that was mine.  It is…” He tilted her head up so he could see her face.  “You do like it, don’t you?”  

“It’s perfect, Peter.  It always was…”

He breathed a sigh of relief.  “Good.  I’d hate to give up my man cave.”

Olivia laughed, and the last bit of tension left them.  She leaned into Peter’s arms again.  Gently cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him.  As he tightened his embrace, she could feel him smiling against her lips.

When they broke apart, he kissed her cheek, and nuzzled her neck, nipping at that favorite spot under her ear.  Before she could kiss him again, he was standing up, slipping his hand into his jeans pocket. 

He dropped to his knees in front of her, much to her surprise.  When he looked up at her, a smile played across his lips, still reddened from the cold and their kisses.  At that moment, she realized what was about to happen, and shook her head in disbelief.

Peter took her left hand in his and brushed his lips against her fingertips.  ‘Olivia Dunham,” he said in a shaky voice, “Marry me.” 

Her eyes were wide and she could feel the tears starting to well again.  She nodded slowly.

‘Say it.  I want to hear you say it.” 

“Yes,” she whispered.  “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He opened his other hand to reveal his mother’s ring.  Olivia gasped again. 

“Walter gave it to me today.“  He slipped it on her finger.  “It’s been in my moth – Eliza-“  He stopped and shook his head at the absurdity of it all.  “It’s been in my mother’s family for generations.”

“But, Peter…I can’t…”

“It was always meant for you, Olivia.  Always meant for the woman that Peter married.  That I married.” He held out her hand and turned it this way and that, admiring the look of it on her tiny hand.  “Walter wanted you to have it.  We agreed... we agreed that in any world, any timeline, Elizabeth would want you to have it.”

The tears that had been building finally spilled over and down her cheeks.  Peter grinned, and wiped them away.  “You gonna keep doing this, Dunham?”

She shrugged.  “According to Mama Damiano, I am.  Is that a problem?”  She looked at him shyly, a faint blush coloring her glistening cheeks. 

Peter kissed her forehead and stood up.  “Not as long as they’re happy tears.”  He reached for her hands and tugged her to her feet.  “Let’s go to bed.”

She leaned into him, relishing his arm around her and the dissipation of their earlier anger.  As he started to move toward the bedroom, she stopped.

He turned to her, a questioning look on his face.  She was looking back at the table, at his keyring.

“But, tomorrow… Tomorrow, we need to talk.”

He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her deeply.  “Tomorrow.  Not now.” 

 

The Next Morning

 Chapter 12

Peter woke and rolled over, only to find a cold, empty spot in the bed.  He buried his face in Olivia’s pillow.  It smelled of her shampoo, her own scent… and sex.  Face still buried, he breathed it in, a smile on his face as he remembered last night.

When they reached the bedroom, she was tugging his shirt over his head.  He wrapped his arms around her and felt her nipples pressing against his bare chest through the thin camisole she wore.  She ran her hands up and down his back, scratching him lightly and causing a shiver to race through him. 

“Make love to me, Peter…” she whispered.  "Like you did before.”

He pulled back to look at her face.  Her eyes were dark as she gazed up at him and bit her lower lip.

“I can never say no when you look at me like that,” he replied in a low voice as he pulled off her camisole and stripped the yoga pants down her legs, then pushed her gently towards the bed.

She gazed up at him while he unbuckled his belt and let his jeans fall to the floor.  “That’s good to know,” she said softly as she scooted across the bed to make room and held out her hand to him. 

They turned to face each other, and Peter cradled her in his arms.  He combed his fingers through her hair until she caught his hand, kissed it and nipped his fingertips, then placed it squarely on her breast. 

He instinctively cupped it with his hand, his thumb grazing her already hard nipple.  Olivia leaned into his touch and rubbed her face against his stubbled cheek.  Peter pulled her closer and threw his leg over hers to tuck her close to his body, his hand never leaving her breast and his eyes never leaving hers. 

She could feel his other hand splayed across her lower back, pressing her into him.  She’d always loved his hands; when he touched her, she felt a sense of calm, of being safe, of being loved. An image of his hands cradling their baby flashed before her eyes and she pulled him closer.

Peter was murmuring to her now, burying his face in her hair and whispering words of love and want.   He rolled them over, supporting his weight on his left arm.  She shifted so that she cradled him between her legs, feeling him pressing against her.  Even though he still favored his right shoulder, his hand wandered over her body, teasing her until she was arching against him.

He raised himself so that he could see her face again and nuzzled her cheek.  She smiled and whispered “yes” to his unspoken question.  He grasped her hand, twining their fingers, and pushed into her with one long, smooth stroke.

Olivia ran her hand over his back, feeling the tension of his muscles as he moved against her, slowly and deliberately, sinking into her completely with each thrust.  He dropped his head and brushed his lips against her collarbone, then her neck, and finally her lips. 

As they rocked together, Olivia’s grasp on his hand tightened, and the hand on his back found its way into his hair, tangling in the damp curls at the back of his head.  She moaned into his mouth and the sound of her pleasure drove him harder and faster until they were both gasping between kisses.

“Love you, love you,” Peter growled into her neck.  “Never want to lose you, Olivia.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she was overcome by the feel of Peter against her, in her, surrounding her, and she could only call his name as the intensity of her orgasm washed over her.  She felt him stop for a moment, growing even harder (how was that possible?), then he continued, once, twice more, before exploding into her and burying his face into her shoulder, her name a sigh on his lips.

For a few minutes, neither could move.  Neither wanted to; Olivia ran her hands over Peter’s back, feeling the crescents nail marks where she’d clasped him tightly to her, and Peter nuzzled her neck, breathing in her scent.  Once they’d caught their breath, he pulled away from her and rolled them together so she was nestled on his chest, her legs curled between his and his arms surrounding her, his hands splayed across her belly. 

Olivia could feel his heart still pounding, even as his breathing slowed.  She relaxed into his embrace and let his heartbeat lull her into sleep.

ooo

They made love again at dawn, Olivia riding him with her head thrown back, a brilliant smile on her face,  and her hair flying about her as he thrust up into her and she met him stroke for stroke.  She looked free and unburdened, laughing down at him as he stroked her sides, hitting all the ticklish spots, then moaning as he teased her breasts, nipping and lapping at each one before kissing her deeply.  He gripped her hips, shifting their position slightly, watching Olivia’s face until he found just the right angle, the one that made her gasp as she pushed against his chest for balance.

“Look at me, Livia… I want to see you,” Peter said in a low, morning-rough voice.  If last night was a homecoming, Peter thought, then this morning is a celebration.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked at him with hooded eyes as he moved beneath her.  He brought his hand to his mouth and licked his thumb, never looking away from her.  He smirked as she shivered in anticipation, watching him; and then the shivers turned to moans as he stroked her clit with his spit-slicked thumb.

She felt as if she could shatter in a million pieces just from his touch.  He’s buried deep within her with every stroke, and each time she moves over him, she feels likes she’s at the precipice of an intense climax – and each time she leans over the edge, he stills her motion; she trembles with need for him.

He pulled her down for a kiss, and she moaned into his mouth.  “Peter, please… so close.’

He held her close and rolled them over, bracing himself on his elbows so he could see her face.  His hair was sleep-tousled and curls framed his face.  She cupped his cheeks, then tugged his face down for another kiss as he started moving again.

“I love you, Olivia Dunham.”

He felt her nearing the edge again, and knew he couldn’t hold out much longer either.  She tightened around him as he pushed into her again, and they both groaned. She looked up at him with a smile that lit her entire face and said softly, “I love you, Peter Bishop.”

When he looks at her, he sees his home. 

 

Chapter 13

Peter could hear her in the kitchen, making coffee for him, opening the cabinets and the refrigerator.  He relaxed into the pillows, a contented smile on his face.  As Olivia’s memories had returned, she became more comfortable with him in bed; she became the woman he’d been sleeping with for months, instead of weeks.    He liked to think that this was the Olivia that only he knew – a passionate, generous lover, the woman that was meant to be in his crazy, fucked up life, the woman – as he and Walter had talked about - that was meant to wear his mother’s ring.  

She walked into the bedroom, wearing his shirt and carrying two mugs – coffee for him, herbal tea for herself.  Peter pulled back the covers and held the mugs as she slipped into bed beside him, then turned her face up for a kiss.

Peter kissed her, then nuzzled her face before handing her the mug of tea.  “Best wakeup call ever,” he said with a grin.  “How – “ He shut his mouth quickly and took a sip of his coffee.

Olivia laid her head on his shoulder and entwined her leg with his.  “Peter, it’s ok,” she sighed.  “Actually, I feel better than I’ve felt in a while.”

He slipped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.  “I’m glad, hon.  I’ll try not to be a pain in the ass, but I’m making no promises.” 

She laughed, and Peter smiled at the sound.  “Bishop, you will always be a massive pain in the ass.” 

He chuckled and squeezed her shoulders.  “But that’s why you love me, Dunham.  Admit it.” 

She sipped her tea, considering his statement.  “Oh, I suppose,” she said airily.  “Among other things.”

He pressed another kiss to the top of her head and they sat in companionable silence, enjoying a morning without the pressure of impending doom.

Until Peter’s phone vibrated on the bedside table.  They both tensed, and Peter set his mug down, then reached for the phone and held it so they could both see the display.  

“Walter…” he drawled.  “How was your night?”

Olivia slid out of bed as he chatted with his father.  They’d always had a strange relationship, in any incarnation, and this was no exception.  If pressed, Walter would admit, “Of course, he’s not REALLY my son,” with a wistful smile and shining eyes, but from day to day, they were much as Olivia remembered them in happier times – Peter, treating the older man with fond exasperation on the surface, but fierce love underneath, and Walter, being Walter, exhibiting a myriad of emotions, but most often regarding Peter as his cherished son. 

As she walked past the sofa on the way to the kitchen, her eyes fell on Peter’s keyring, still on the coffee table from last night.  She sat down and examined the small piece of metal… a bullet, one that had been fired and hit something, judging by the crushed and dented casing.  A tiny hole had been drilled in it and a thin chain threaded through it.

She looked up and Peter was standing in the doorway, clad in a pair of boxers and watching her with a guarded expression on his face.  He looked at the keyring in her hands and the questioning expression on her face, then said, “Let me get another cup of coffee first.”  

Returning from the kitchen, he sat down heavily beside her.  After setting his mug on the coffee table, he took the keyring out of her hands and rubbed the bullet with his thumb. 

Olivia spoke hesitantly.  “Is that – from Bell’s gun?  From the ship?”

“Yes.” Peter’s voice was low and dark.  “It’s the bullet that killed you.  That Walter pushed out of your brain.”

“Why, Peter?”  Olivia took the keyring from his hands and shivered a bit as she rolled the dented surface of the bullet between her fingers.  “Isn’t that – isn’t that a little morbid?”

“It’s a reminder, Olivia.” He pulled her into his arms.  “To never take you for granted.  To know how fleeting life is, how things can change in the blink of an eye.”  He rested his cheek against her head.  “To keep you close, to take care of you.”

“Na einai kalitero anthropo apo ton patera tou,” she murmured.  “You’re good at that.”

“Not good enough,” he said bitterly.  “Three times, three times I’ve lost you.”

His voice broke, and Olivia turned in his arms to face him.  “Peter, it’s ok…”

“I see you like that, and… I feel like the ground is falling out from under me.   It scares the hell out of me, Olivia, that I can’t protect you.  And without you…”  His voice trailed off and he looked down at the floor again, blinking rapidly. 

“So many times…” he whispered.   “So many times I failed to protect you… to keep you safe.” He buried his face in her hair.  “I’ve lost you too many times already, Liv, I can’t do it again.”

“But, Peter, three times?”  Olivia shook her head, puzzled.  “From the wreck, I remember.  And on Bell’s ship… but?”

He lifted his head from her shoulder and looked at her.  His face was painted with sorrow.  “I never told you.  In the machine… I saw what the future would be.  We were together, we were married.  But the world was falling apart.  The other side had already been destroyed.  You didn’t want to have kids because things were so uncertain.”  Peter put his hand on Olivia’s abdomen.  “But the other Walter was here, on our side.  He wasn’t like the Walter we know now – he was bitter.  He lured me on a wild goose chase, out to the lake house and away from you.”

Peter stopped talking.  Olivia looked up at him; he was biting his lip, and blinking rapidly.  “Peter, what is it?”

He shook his head, still silent.  He held on to her as if he expected her to be torn from his grasp at any minute.  “Just like the first time… they called me to the hospital.  But this time, you weren’t even breathing.  My father shot you – point blank, a bullet hole right in the middle of your forehead.”

“Just like the ship,” Olivia whispered.

“I had to give the eulogy at your funeral, Olivia.  There were no more cemeteries, your coffin was set on fire and floated out to the ocean.” He swallowed once, twice.  “I wanted to throw myself on the barge and float out to sea with you.  I was dead inside.”

“But Peter, you came back.”

“Walter figured out a way to send me back.  To reverse the destruction of the other world.”  He kissed the side of her head.  “To prevent your murder.  I came back and saw you standing in front of me… and it was all worth it.  You were alive.”

“I remember that.  I couldn’t understand why you said that.  And then… “

“And then I was gone.  But it was worth it, Olivia.  You were alive, you were safe.”

“No, Peter, it wasn’t worth it.  You were gone!  And then when you came back, and I didn’t know you… “ It was Olivia’s turn to blink back the tears.  “How could I not recognize you?”

Peter smiled at her ruefully.  “I was so glad to see you at the hospital.  But when you didn’t know me?” He shook his head.  “It was hard.  It hurt when Walter didn’t remember me, or Astrid.  But when you looked at me… and saw a stranger….”  He pulled her closer.  “I kept telling myself that you were alive.  And maybe you were better off without me.  It seemed like your life might’ve been better.”

Before Olivia could speak, he continued.  “At least that’s what Walter thought.  And Nina Sharp.  And Lincoln.”

“And then I failed you again.  You remembered, and I didn’t believe you.” His voice was low and rough.  “After everything that happened that day, and I walked away from you.”

“I kept missing you, I kept remembering you, Peter… and you keep coming back.”  She tried to smile at him, but her heart was breaking at his misery.  His guilt covered him like the quilt draped across the back of the couch.

He cupped her cheek, brushed away the tear that had fallen.  His hand was warm, and she leaned into his touch, covering his hand with her own. 

“When I first came back… I used to dream about you, that we were together, waking up together.. and then I’d wake up, in that cell, or at the house, on the couch…” he grimaced, “or on the floor in front of the couch.”  He brushed her forehead with his lips.  “And since you came home from the hospital…”  Peter stopped, and gulped for air.   Olivia squeezed his hand, held it against her face.

“Since you’ve been home, I dream that we’re back on Bell’s ship, I’m holding you in my arms.” He looked at Olivia with worry in his eyes.  “But this time, Walter can’t save you.  I’m too late.  We’re all too late.  I’ve lost you, I’ve lost the baby.  I’ve failed you both.” 

She leaned into him, and he pulled her close.  “Peter, I’m here. I’m ok.  We’re ok.”

“I know, I know…”

“But it’s hard to shake that feeling,” she murmured and looked up at him.  He smiled at her, but his eyes showed the strain.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly.  He took the keyring out of her hands.  “It’s also a reminder that you’re still here.  That WE’RE still here.  To never give up hope.”

She cupped his face in her hand and brought his face to hers for a kiss.  When they ended the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers and she caressed the curls surrounding his face. 

She sat up and he loosened his embrace, but still kept her close in the circle of his arms.  He smiled at her.  “I promise… I’ll try not to be so overprotective.”

Olivia smiled back at him, still caressing his cheek and running her fingers through his hair. “And I’ll try to let you take care of me.”

They sat, goofily smiling at each other… until a look of surprise crossed Olivia’s face, and her hands flew to her belly.

“Olivia, what?  What’s the matter?”  Peter stood up suddenly, a panicked look on his face. 

Olivia spread her hands across her abdomen, and she looked up at him, her surprise replaced by serene joy.

“Peter, I can feel the baby!”

He sank to his knees in front of her, reaching towards her, but afraid to touch.  “What?  Where?”

She placed his hand on her right side, under his shirt, and he splayed his fingers, pressing his palm to her skin. “There… there, did you feel it?”

A look of wonder spread across his face.

“Hello, peanut.”

 

A few years later

Epilogue

“I can’t, Peter.  I can’t do it.” Olivia’s voice caught in her throat as she turned away from him.

“Hurry!  We have to go!” Walter hissed from his post by the window.

Peter stopped in front of her and dropped a kiss on her forehead.  “I’ll be back…. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he told her in a shaky voice and he walked hurriedly out the door, stooping with the burden he carried in his arms.

ooo

Peter stood in the shadows at their appointed rendezvous, shifting restlessly from one foot to another.  Finally, he heard the sound of Nina’s heels on the sidewalk.

“Peter, where’s Oli-“

“She couldn’t…. I left her with Walter, they’re waiting for me,” he said in low tones as he shifted the sleeping child into Nina’s arms. 

“Peter, you’re doing the right thing.”

“I know, Nina, but…”

“I’ll make sure she’s safe.  Now, go.”  Nina’s arms tightened around her and she looked warily at the street in front of them.

Peter stood staring, as if to fix the image of the blond curls and chubby cheeks in his mind.  He turned to leave them, but only took a couple of steps before turning around, digging in his jeans pocket.

“Here,” he pressed a small object into the child’s hand, and threaded the chain through her fingers as his kissed her cheek one last time (for now, he reminded himself, just for now).  “It’s for hope,” his voice broke as he hugged them both.  “Don’t ever let her lose hope.”

Nina patted his cheek and pulled her shawl around the sleeping child, tucking her hand, and the small, shiny bullet suspended on a chain, close to her heart.  “Go,” she hissed.  “Be careful.”

Peter kissed his daughter and melted into the darkness.  Nina turned in the opposite direction, just another old woman and her grandchild hurrying home before curfew.