Work Text:
pleasepeter pleasepeter pleasepeter pleasepeter pleasepeter
His convulsions were getting worse. She could hear Walter shouting instructions over the phone, but she couldn't find the damn magnesium.
pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod
When she was eight, and their stepfather would come home drunk and angry, Olivia and Rachel would hide in the closet. She'd close her eyes and beg for help, but help never came. And she stopped believing.
But she was as desperate now as she'd been then.
pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod
The color was draining from Peter's face. She filled the syringe and plunged it into his leg, his right leg.
pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod
"Olivia? Please tell me what's happening. Olivia?" She could hear the panic in Walter's voice.
"Okay. Okay, I think he's stabilizing. Everything's okay." She picked up the phone. "Walter, I'll call you back, I'm calling 911."
Peter wasn't seizing anymore, but his face was still unnaturally pale and his eyes were closed.
"Peter! Peter! Look at me!" She pulled his body closer, propping him up against her in a more upright position. "Peter, are you ok?"
She ran her fingers through his hair, feeling for lacerations. He'd hit the concrete floor of the lab amid the broken glass of the milk bottle. She felt a lump starting to form on the right side of his head and touched it gently to determine if it was a bruise or a cut.
"Uhhhh," Peter moaned and his eyes fluttered. "Sink."
He tried to stand, but was still very weak and wobbly. Olivia helped him to the closest lab sink, where he gripped the edges for support. "Water," he croaked, before leaning into the sink.
Olivia called 911 as she ran to her office. "Yes, the Kresge Building. The lab, yes, the basement. Hurry!" When she reached her office, she yanked open the top drawer and grabbed the loose change she kept there. She didn't trust anything in the lab, but there was bottled water in the vending machines in the hallway.
Peter was still leaning over the sink as she ran into the hallway. She could hear the sirens outside – the EMTs had been here before, but she'd see them as they came down the stairs.
"This way! Over here!" She yelled as she dashed back into the lab.
She put her hand on Peter's back. He was still upright, but holding on to the sink like it was his new best friend. "Peter. Water. Here." She opened a bottle and held it out for him.
Peter gulped the water, then spat it back in the sink. After a couple of repetitions, he emptied the first bottle and reached for the second, taking a smaller sip but swallowing this time. He seemed to be in better shape, but his face was still pale and he winced as he moved his head.
The EMTs had followed Olivia into the lab, and they were standing near the doorway with dubious looks on their faces.
As Olivia helped Peter to a stool and eased his jacket off, she turned to them and said "He had a couple of bad falls today. I think he might have a concussion."
After checking his vitals, examining his pupils, and feeling the bump on Peter's head, much to his irritation, the EMT turned to Olivia. "I don't think there's much risk of a concussion. Only a very mild one at most. Don't let him sleep more than 15 minutes at a time for an hour or so, and keep ice on that bump."
His partner handed Olivia a small coldpak and showed her how to flex it to activate the cooling effect.
Peter mumbled his thanks as they turned to go, then held the ice pack against the right side of his head.
"Do you want to lie down for a few minutes? Rest for a minute and then I'll take you home?" Olivia put her arm around Peter's waist as he stood, still wobbly.
"Yeah, yeah, that'd be good." His throat was raw from throwing up, his muscles ached from the seizures, his chest hurt from the Observer's blow, and his bones ached from crashing across a rooftop and taking a nosedive into the lab's concrete floor only hours later – but he had his arm around Olivia's shoulders.
It was the first time she'd allowed him to touch her intentionally since… since the hospital? He thought so, but he was still a little fuzzy. It didn't matter, it had been too long.
They shuffled into the office next to hers. The old couch, leather worn pale and thin in spots, had seen plenty of use since they'd reopened the lab, between Walter's need for "just a small nap, Aster," after self-medicating and the cat naps Peter would sneak in during their all-nighters.
Peter collapsed on the couch with a loud sigh, but he didn't let go of Olivia's arm. He looked up at her.
Stay with me.
"Peter, I'll just be in my office. You need to rest, but I'll be back to check on you in a few minutes."
He didn't want to lose the coolness of her fingers against his. He grasped her hand and tugged gently. "Stay. Please."
She tilted her head in acquiescence, and turned to find a chair, but Peter tugged her hand again and scooted over enough for her to sit at the end of the couch. Much to her surprise, he laid his head in her lap and stretched out full length, his legs hanging off the other end.
She won't refuse me. I just almost died. That's got to be good for something.
Olivia took the ice pack out of his hand and laid it against his head, holding it in place until Peter settled. He reached for her right hand and tucked it under his, against his sweater. His fingers curled loosely around her hand and she could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. Despite his body feeling like shit, Olivia's touch was comforting and he was starting to lose some of the tension from the day's events.
"I'm going to call Walter back and give him an update. He was frantic."
Peter's only response was a muffled mumble into her leg.
She hit the speed dial one-handed and lifted the phone to her ear. "Walter, it's… Walter, he's ok. Yes, the EMTs checked that. Yes, they checked that, too."
She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. "Yes, Walter. He's lying down right now. They suggested that he rest for a bit."
She listened for a moment, then replied, "Walter, we're fine. It's no trouble to bring him home, really… Yes, I'll be sure to tell him… Of course, Walter. I'll call you when we leave." She hit the disconnect key and laid the phone on the arm of the couch so she could see the time.
Check his pupils every 15 minutes.
Olivia listened to Peter's steady breathing, not sure if he was asleep or not. He shifted slightly, stretching his legs full length, then curling up so his feet were no longer dangling off the end. She tried to withdraw her hand, but Peter tightened his grasp. "Mmmphhh," he said into her thigh.
"Peter?" she said softly.
"Mmmmpphhhh?"
"Peter… Walter wanted you to know he's making Rosemary Chicken soup for you."
"Mmmmmpphhhh."
"Peter, I need to check your pupils. Can you wake up for just a minute?"
Never letting go of her hand, Peter rolled on his back and slowly opened his eyes, looking steadily at Olivia. The ice pack slid to her side. Although he looked tired (worn out, really), his pupils were fine, but Olivia continued to gaze at him.
thankyougod thankyougod thankyougod thankyougod thankyougod
"How are you feeling? Ready to get up?"
"Not yet. Can we stay just a little longer? My head is still pounding." His voice was raspy, as if the seizure had constricted his vocal cords. He wanted to stare into her eyes forever. Her defenses seemed to be down tonight.
"Sure…as long as you need. But you should put the ice pack back on that bump before it gets any bigger."
Guess almost dying did earn a little sympathy.
Peter rolled back on his side, almost nestling against her. "Next time, promise," he mumbled, and tucked her hand back under his chin like a favorite stuffed animal. He wasn't letting go, not as long as she would allow him this little bit of contact. After days of avoidance and seeing the impassive face of Agent Dunham, he wanted to hang on to these few moments of Olivia, his Olivia.
She wondered how much of his weariness was due to the toxin, how much to the blow from the Observer's mystery weapon, and how much was sheer exhaustion. With his eyes closed, she felt free to study his face openly. Peter had violet circles under his eyes that were starting to rival her own.
She wondered if he was losing sleep because he was missing the Other One, as Olivia had come to think of her. Was he clinging to her hand as a poor substitute for Hers?
She didn't want to feel the panic that grabbed her chest as Peter crashed to the floor, jerking uncontrollably. She didn't want to feel the relief that flooded her when he'd opened his eyes. She didn't want to feel the warmth of his hand surrounding hers, the stubble on his chin grazing her fingertips. She didn't want to feel anything, especially when it came to Peter. Feeling meant she was vulnerable, that she could lose him, to the Observers' mystery weapon, to Walter's deadly concoctions or bizarre experiments… or to Her. If she hadn't lost him to Her already.
pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod
She leaned her head back against the couch, feeling the weight of her world descending on her. She closed her eyes and released a deep sigh.
just for a minute…
Almost instinctively, she stroked Peter's head with her free hand, smoothing his hair but carefully avoiding the swelling on the right side of his head. As she continued her gentle touch, his breathing deepened. She could feel his body relaxing against her and her own eyelids grew heavier.
She wondered if he sat this way with the Other One, stretched out on her couch… another moment with Peter that should've been hers. She didn't want to let Peter get close to her anymore – she would wonder about every smile, every caress, every conversation... did he feel this way with Her? Was he settling for second best, thinking this would be all he could do without crossing universes again?
She didn't want to feel anymore, she didn't want to think anymore.
just for a minute…
Olivia jerked awake – she'd dozed off and twenty minutes had passed since she'd closed her eyes. Peter's deep, even breathing was a clear indication that her startled movement hadn't disturbed him in the least. Olivia was able to extricate her hand from his grasp, loosened in sleep.
"Peter? Peter?" She shook his shoulder gently. "Peter, wake up."
"uhhhggnnn." He sat up slowly, and immediately missed her hand in his and the warmth of her body. He rubbed his hands over his face in an effort to clear his mind.
"Peter, can you stand up? Think you can make it to the car?"
No, I want to lay here on this couch forever, as long as you'll sit with me and hold my hand…
"Yeah, I think so." He reached across her and picked up her phone, squinting at the time. "Olivia, I can call a cab. No need for you to take me."
"Peter, it's not a problem." She was standing up now, putting on her Agent Dunham face again. "Stay here. You just had your coat and your bag, right?"
He started to nod, but decided quickly that wasn't a good idea. "Right. Just the bag," he said as he put his head in his hands in an effort to still the pounding.
She came back in the room already wearing her coat, carrying his coat and duffle bag. He noticed the book was tucked under her arm, not in his bag.
That's a good sign. At least she's keeping it. Maybe I'm getting through.
He swayed a little when he stood up, enough that she put her arm around his waist, but she wouldn't look at him. He draped his arm over her shoulders and they left the lab and walked to the SUV, slowly and silently. The night air cleared the fuzz from his head, but he continued to lean on her, wanting to prolong the contact as long as he could.
Once in Olivia's Navigator, he rested his head against the glass; the coolness felt good, but it emphasized the empty space where her hand had been. The radio was playing low, one of the jazz stations he'd programmed for her. WICN and WGBH, sandwiched in between the news stations.
She didn't reprogram the radio…that's got to be a good sign.
He turned his head slightly. Her face was alternately illuminated and shadowed by the street lights. He could see her lips pursed, the way she looked with her Agent Dunham mask, but the worry in her eyes betrayed the stoicism of her expression.
"Olivia, today, I - " he spoke gently.
"Astrid or I will swing by in the morning to pick up Walter. You should take it easy tomorrow. We can bring the car when we drop Walter off… unless you want him to stay home with you?"
Guess the sympathy was short-lived…the wall is back up.
Peter sighed heavily, and rubbed his face with his hand again. "No, Olivia, I think I'd rather come in and crash on the couch all day than have Walter fussing over me. He'll be bad enough tonight."
"Oh!" Olivia reached for the dashboard controls. "I promised Walter I'd call when we left."
"I'll call him." Peter reached into his coat pocket for his phone. "Walter… " he drawled.
A small smile flitted over Olivia's face as she heard Walter's exclamations and Peter's patient replies. They've come such a long way from when they could barely stay in the same room without constantly sniping at each other, she thought. They'd all come a long way since she'd coerced Peter into coming back to Boston. She never dreamed she'd be begging him to come back to their universe, to come back for her, only a couple of years later.
And then… her smile faded as she remembered the events that followed. She'd almost rather be back at the beginning, when Peter was only a massive pain in the ass that called her "sweetheart" just to piss her off – she felt certain he'd never done THAT with the Other One.
Peter saw the small grin cross her face as he calmed Walter. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the mask he'd been seeing too much lately.
As he slipped the phone back in his pocket, she started again in the Agent Dunham voice. "So, I'll coordinate with Astrid and one of us will come by in the morning. If you decide you're not up to a full day, you can always drive the car back. We'll make sure Walter's - "
"We'll manage, Olivia," he said in a quiet voice. The pounding in his head had returned, and he missed Olivia already. Again.
They rode the rest of the way in silence.
oooo
Olivia was already at the passenger side of the Navigator before Peter could open the door. Leaning over slightly to pick up his bag intensified the pounding in his head and the ache in his chest, and he grimaced as he reached for it.
As he eased out of the SUV, Olivia wrapped her arm around him again and slid under his arm, supporting his weight as he stood up. Peter pulled her into him, resting his head on hers.
"I need a minute," he murmured into her hair. He didn't clarify his meaning, and she didn't ask.
They stood mutely, their breath frosting in the cool Cambridge night. When she didn't pull away, Peter tightened his embrace incrementally, and was surprised both by the fragile feeling of her body and her lack of protest as he drew her against him. She rested her forehead against his shoulder.
thankyougod thankyougod thankyougod thankyougod thankyougod
"Peter, you almost died today." Her voice was muffled by his coat.
"Actually, I almost died several times today." He rubbed his chin gently against her crown, the scent that was uniquely her fragrant in the crisp evening air.
Neither wanted to make the first move to pull away, but when Olivia shivered, Peter was silently grateful for the few moments they'd had. "C'mon," he said huskily, shutting the truck door without loosening his grasp from her shoulders.
He pretended not to notice as she swiped a hand over her face, and they walked silently to the house.
"Peter! Peter, how are you feeling? Are you alright, son?" Walter met them at the door, concern making him flustered. "When Agent Dunham called – hello, Olivia, dear – when she called, Peter –"
Peter dropped his bag in the entry, and gripped Walter's shoulder with his free hand. "Walter. It's ok. I'M ok. I just want to lie down."
"Walter, the EMTs suggested keeping an ice pack on his head," Olivia offered, in hopes of distracting him long enough to get Peter to the couch.
"Yes, of course, ice would be the recommended treatment for contusions of that sort… " Walter chattered away as he hurried back into the kitchen. "Agent Dunham, you must stay for dinner, I've made Rosemary… "
Olivia helped Peter with his coat. She stood by the couch, watching as he piled up the pillows, kicked off his shoes, stretched out. He propped his feet on the end of the couch and seemed to sink into the pillows.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said quietly as she turned to go, but he grabbed her hand before she left his reach.
"Thank you."
"Oh, Peter, bringing you home was no big deal."
"Olivia, you saved my life today. That's kind of a big deal in my book." He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.
The mask slipped a bit, and he could see the pain and worry in her eyes again.
"I guess that makes us even, then," she said softly. "Get some rest, Peter." Her hand slipped from his grasp and she was gone.
"… and a bowl of soup is just what you need, Oli- Peter, where's Olivia?" Walter walked out of the kitchen with an ice pack, and then looked around for Olivia, as if she might be perched on a bookcase or hiding under the table.
"She's gone home, Walter. It's been a long day for her, too." Peter closed his eyes.
oooo
Olivia hurried out to the Navigator. The chill was settling into her bones and she just wanted to retreat to her apartment. The adrenaline was finally wearing off and the emotional stress of the day was sinking in.
As she fastened her seat belt, she knocked Peter's book off the console.
"The book wasn't meant for her. It was meant for the Olivia Dunham that I've spent the last couple years of my life with. Because I wanted you to read it. You're the person I wanted to share it with."
She gripped the steering wheel and wearily rested her head against her hands.
pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod pleasegod
oooo
When he didn't hear Olivia's SUV pulling away immediately, Walter peered out the window. He thought he saw her shoulders shaking as she rested her head on the steering wheel. As he turned away, his heart broke a little for them both.