Hey guys! I'm back from the US but i wrote a lot while I was over there. Sequel to The Academy coming soon! Stay tuned, readers...

Enjoy the story. God bless : )

Rick Dunham couldn't believe who he was holding. He could barely wrap his mind around the fact that the warm, wriggling weight in his arms was his daughter. After all the confusion and chaos of her birth, he was glad to finally have the chance to sit quietly with her all alone. He was already utterly smitten with her. He had a good feeling about the woman she would grow up to be. A good feeling in his bones.

At first, his navy buddies had joked that he must be disappointed the baby wasn't a boy, but they couldn't have been more wrong. He was overjoyed to have a daughter – a bright little girl who he could already tell was the spitting image of her mother, right down to those fiercely beautiful green eyes. He had been stationed overseas for most of his wife's pregnancy, but luckily had been allowed to go home for the last couple of months. The alternative now seemed unthinkable. He would never have forgiven himself if he had missed this.

His daughter made a small humming sound and wriggled in her sleep, nestling against his chest for warmth. He couldn't keep himself from smiling, despite how hard the last few months had been. Marilyn's pregnancy had been a tough one. They were supposed to be having twins, but they'd lost one of the babies early on. For a while there was a high chance that they would also lose the other, but the baby had pulled through. That made him so proud. Only a few hours old and his little girl had already proven that she was a fighter, just like him. The idea that she would have his strength and her mother's beauty made his heart swell with a fiercely protective love. But there was fear in him, also. He'd never done this before. He didn't know how to raise a child, or what to tell her about the ways of the world. As he held her, he started imagining her future, seeing himself at her graduation, her wedding – having no idea that he would be killed in battle before her eighth birthday.

But at the time, he pushed his fears aside. Looking down upon his daughter, all he felt now was hope. "I love you, princess," he said softly, and leant down to kiss little Olivia on the forehead for the first time.

When Olivia was nine, her stepfather gave her a dress. He always attempted to buy her forgiveness after he'd gotten angry. Russ was a mystery to her – sometimes he'd yell and hurt her mother, and other times he'd be really funny and give them nice things. Olivia felt the weight of the dress in her hands, sensing that while it was nothing more than a sweet gift now, it would surely cost her something down the line, though she was afraid to find out what.

"What do you say, Olive?" her mother pushed.

"Thank you," she replied meekly, not lifting her eyes from the floor.

"No problem, baby doll. Why don't you try it on for me, huh?"

Olivia knew better than to say no to a man like him. Her small feet padded the floor as she trudged to her room to change. The fabric was soft and white, making the colours in her eyes and hair stand out. It was a beautiful dress, but she hated it purely because of who gave it to her. For the same reason, she was terrified to take it off.

When she emerged, her mother gushed and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "That dress looks beautiful on you, Olive!" Marilyn turned to Russ. "Doesn't she look beautiful?"

Russ cracked open a beer. Took a sip. Smacked his lips. "Yeah," he said. "She really does."

Olivia squirmed at the way he was looking at her. Seeing the beer in his hand, she knew things were going downhill fast. "Mum, can I go play with Rachael?"

"Sure thing, honey. Just don't get that new dress dirty, OK?"

"OK," she replied quickly before running off to Rachael's room. Olivia shut the door and played with her sister, wishing the two of them could just stay there forever.

Later on in the day, Marilyn had to take Rachael to the doctor and left Olivia alone in the house with Russ. She stayed away from him as much as she could, playing by herself until he inevitably came looking for her. "Hey, baby doll," he slurred slightly, tilting his head over to the couch. "Wanna come watch the game with me?"

She looked at her feet. "No, thank you," she whispered, trying to be polite.

"Come on, it's almost over. You're mum's bringing Rachael back any minute now, then you can play with her all you want."

She weighed her options, but her fear of him set in quickly. She nodded, and sat on the couch while he went and rummaged around in the kitchen. He came back and sat down beside her with a bowl of hard-boiled candy strips, like candy canes without the hook. He popped one in his mouth. Smiled through crunching teeth. "Want some?"

She shook her head silently, focusing on the TV screen, even though she didn't understand the sport. He just chuckled next to her. "What's the matter, you don't like candy? You are nine, right? Go on, have some. You need to eat more anyway, you're so damn skinny."

She hesitantly reached her hand into the bowl and took out a piece. It was too hard for her to chew, especially since she had a wobbly tooth. She took the candy and popped the end of it in her mouth, sucking hard until it withered away and stained her lips.

It took her a while to notice that he was staring at her. She felt her skin crawl. There was something odd in his eyes her young mind couldn't diagnose – something in the way his wet mouth hung slightly parted and his breath caught. Animalistic, like hunger. She shrunk away, wondering if he was mad at her. Instead he grinned and sipped his beer, licking his lips to savour the taste of it, or to imagine the taste of something else.

"You got some candy on you," he finally slurred, his voice low and dark. She was too scared to move as he reached out and traced her lips with his thumb, wiping off something sugary and sucking it into his mouth. He smiled. "Sweet."

She hugged her knees and stared back at the screen, tonguing her wobbly tooth to distract herself. "You know, your Mum don't know too much," he mumbled. "But she sure was right about you in that dress. She ain't all that special, and your sister's a little young still. But you…you're something else."

Olivia tensed and tried to block him out. He grabbed her by the arm suddenly. "Talk to me, girl," he spat, close enough for her to taste the alcohol in his breath. "I give you a compliment and you don't even thank me or nothin'. Just like your mother – no manners. If that Daddy of yours had any balls he would have taught you a lesson when he had the chance."

He raised a hand to strike her and she flinched, shrieking and wriggling desperately to escape him. "Don't, please!" she begged. He'd never hit her before, but she'd seen him do it to her mum enough times to know what he was like when he lost control. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad, I promise."

He exhaled heavily, releasing her arm. She tore it from him and wiped her eyes. Softening, he started stroking her long, blonde hair. "You know I don't like to hurt you, baby doll. You just ask for it sometimes. You really oughtta be nicer to me, you know. I'm your Daddy now, understand?"

She nodded at the lie, tears burning fierce in her eyes. His mouth twitched into a tiny smile. Then he said, "You want to make it up to me?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He smirked and leant over, giving her a sloppy, beer-soaked kiss on the cheek. She wanted to scream and run away, but found herself frozen. When he pulled back she squirmed and wiped her face vigorously. He chuckled, stroking her hair again. Too scared to even move, she only shivered as his other hand went to toy with the hem of her dress, his fingers sliding beneath it. He'd never gone this far before. His hand moved higher. She started to cry. "It's OK, baby doll," he said. "You'll like it. I promise."

He never touched her again after that. She shot him the next week.

Olivia didn't feel different. She thought she'd feel different now than she felt before, but she just felt irritatingly normal. She lay in Lucas' arms, in his bed, trying to mull over whatever it was that she was feeling, trying to reconcile her expectations with her reality. Rachael had told her it would be horrible. Olivia's sister may have been younger, but somehow she managed to do everything first. Rachael hadn't been the only one to give her the impression that sex would be unbearably painful, so Olivia had kind of gone in expecting the worst.

In the end, it wasn't unbearable, but it had hurt. Lucas had been sweet and patient the entire time, always taking the time to make sure she was comfortable and willing. After a while it got easier. She found that if she didn't think about it so much and just followed her instincts it almost came naturally. Overall, the physical experience was anticlimactic, as she had expected, but definitely not bad as such. Better than she expected. Halfway good, even.

What she hadn't expected was the emotion rush - that whirlwind of nerves and giddiness and whispered 'I love you's in between kisses. The nerves had been more intense than she thought they'd be. She figured she'd be all confident and ready, but the nerves came out in the details - like how, when they were undressing each other, she suddenly realised she couldn't even remember the last time another person had seen her naked. The giddiness had blossomed throughout the night. The process of discovering the details of Lucas's body, so different from hers, had been fascinating to her. The way she felt small as his body overshadowed her made her shiver. The intimacy of sex was hard to wrap her head around - the whole feeling of having the person you love close to you in the strongest physical way, literally inside you. Amid that rush of emotions, the only feeling that remained constant was that she loved him and she knew for certain he loved her back. She'd never known that more than tonight. The fact that they were able to prove that to each other wordlessly was profound to her.

But now it was 3am. She was left in the wake of that tornado, and all she could think was "I don't feel different." She didn't feel grown up, or like some whole new world had opened up to her. What she did feel was fear. Fear because they she and Lucas were still new, just two college kids in love, and that he'd already told her he was dropping out to join the marines next year. She couldn't imagine him being away at training - or worse, at war – while she was still at Northwestern. She knew they'd have to part eventually, but as she lay awake in his arms, she was convinced that it would hurt unlike anything she'd ever felt before.

Olivia sat in the gutter, her head in her hands. The concrete was cold, just like the wind. She stripped off her Kevlar vest and helmet, running a hand through her hair as blue and red lights bounced off the alley walls.

"I told you," a gruff voice said behind her.

She looked up. "Told me what?"

"That you were gonna be fine." The older agent smiled weakly and took of his helmet, sitting beside her. "You handled that well. You should be pretty happy with yourself."

She smiled wryly. "I don't feel happy."

He nodded. "The truth is, it doesn't stop being scary. But you get better at handling it. You'll see. But considering that was your first raid, you did well, kiddo. How old are you, anyway? If you don't mind me asking."

"24."

"24, huh? And you're already interning in Major Crimes? They must have had their eye on you at The Academy."

She shrugged. "I work hard."

He chuckled. "Oh, I can tell, kiddo. You rookies are always so ambitious. Look at you. Youngest on the raid team, the only woman…you don't get there unless you work hard."

Biting her lip, she rested her head in her hands again. "This job's so much harder than I thought it'd be," she confessed.

He patted her on the back. "You should go home and get some sleep, kiddo. You earned it."

She nodded, still a little shaken from the night's events. Lifting her head, she smiled warmly at the older man. "Thank you, sir. For what you said before the raid."

He laughed. "Don't mention it. And please, don't call me "sir". I'm Charlie. Charlie Francis."

She shook his hand. "Olivia Dunham."

"It's good to have you on the team," he said earnestly. He stood up, hands in his pockets. He had a stern but reassuring face – protective, like a gentle giant. "You want some advice? Don't sit in the gutter all night, Olivia. Go home. Have a drink. Feed your dog. Kiss your boyfriend. Whatever. Just do something normal. It helps." He gave her a smile and turned away, giving his equipment back to their team leader before walking down the alley into the night.

The bar was roaring. No more than usual, but to John and Olivia, it was the best night of their lives. This beat any birthday, graduation, or whatever hands down because after two years, they'd finally closed the Molly Lush case. A couple of weeks ago they were working on a separate case when a new lead surfaced suddenly, leading them to the man who'd killed her and dismembered her body. And tonight they put the bastard in handcuffs. There was no better feeling in the world.

John slammed his glass on the bar, calling the bartender over. "Another round, Kevin."

Olivia laughed. "Fuck that, leave the bottle."

"I love having cops in my bar," Kevin chuckled. "You guys drink like fish."

"What's the matter, you don't like money?"

"I love it. Speaking of which, you need to pay up on your tab, Scott. I've been patient."

"Awww, come on, man. Not tonight."

"Be nice to him," Olivia teased Kevin, smiling mischievously. "We're having a good day. You can ask him for what he owes tomorrow."

"What happened? You guys score a good lead or something?"

"Better. We closed a two-year-old murder case."

"Not bad! Alright, you get that bottle on special tonight, but I want that money by week's end, Scott."

"No problem."

"Thanks Kevin," Olivia said, beaming. "I knew there was a reason you were my favourite bartender."

"Well, when you come in here with that pretty smile on your face how can I deny you anything?" he joked, pouring them another drink. "Look at you two. My favourite feds all grown up. Kicking criminal ass and taking names. I am so proud. I'll leave you to celebrate but let me know if you need anything. Congrats, kids."

He walked off and left John and Olivia to themselves. They started laughing for no real reason. They were on such a high. "I can't believe we caught that son of a bitch," John said.

"I can't believe you kicked down his door," she teased. "I bet you regret that. Your foot must be killing you."

"You kidding? That was the highlight of my day!"

"The evidence crew should have let you keep the door."

"I wish. It'd be my most treasured possession. Hell, I'd mount that broken piece of shit on the wall in my apartment. Engrave our fucking names on it."

Olivia laughed and took another sip of whiskey. She refilled both their glasses, smiling wistfully. "You know, every day I busted my ass in the Academy I dreamt of days like this."

"We all did. Makes the job worth it."

She lifted her glass to him. "You did well today, John."

"So did you. I owe you a lot, Liv."

"We owe each other."

He nodded, lifting his glass too. His face softened. "To Molly Lush."

"May she rest in peace." They clinked glasses and drank down the burning whiskey. After a brief silence, John broke from the serious moment with a charming smile. "I'm not kidding, Liv. We owned that case. They should give us medals."

"You know, this could actually take us somewhere. Daniels might start giving us bigger cases. Might even let us in on that new task force they've been running with DHS."

"We're legends," John said, the alcohol starting to get to him. "We're legendary."

She laughed at his enthusiasm. "Not yet, but we're on our way."

"Still, we make a great team, you and I."

His earnest smile was contagious. "Yeah," she said. "We really do."

He poured two more glasses for them, raising his in mock seriousness. "To us, then. May Boston's underbelly live in fear of us for all eternity."

She tapped his glass with hers. "Amen to that." She drank it all down and they started laughing again, not even understanding why. They kept going like that all night until their inhibitions and memories started to evade them. Then something occurred that had never happened before. They kissed. Neither of them saw it coming. It just kind of happened, and after that, there wasn't much stopping them.

The whole ride in the cab to John's apartment, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Breaking that pesky professional boundary was a delicious shock. Every now and then one would tear themselves away from a clumsy kiss only to dissolve into breathy laughter. "This is so fucking stupid," they'd say.

"Fuck it, it's just tonight."

"This'll never happen again."

"No. Never." More laughter. A cheeky grin, followed by more hungry kisses driving them to a place ruled only by their senses.

She expected that the sex would be awkward or boring or terrible in some way. But it wasn't. It felt insane and adrenaline-fuelled, but at the same time it felt ordinary. Like they'd done in a million times before. In the morning there were no regrets. They just started all over again. "This is the last time."

"Yeah, of course."

"I mean it, Liv."

"So do I."

Of course, neither of them did. But they already knew that.

Her phone buzzed on the table. Again. Peter had been calling or texting non-stop since their discussion in the café. She looked at the latest message:

Livia, I know you're ignoring me. I deserve it. Please call me. I just want to know if you're alright.

She swallowed back tears. He was hers. He belonged with her. All she wanted the entire time she was trapped in the other universe was to go home, but it felt utterly unreachable now. Peter was her home. They'd never fix this. He'd never be the same, and neither would she. If he fell for the other Olivia with all the little differences, then he never really fell for her. He never really knew her at all.

She typed up a message for Peter. She hesitated, closing her eyes in hurt and immediate regret as she hit "Send":

Can you come over? We need to talk.

His urgent reply:

I'm on my way.

When he arrived at her door, he stared at her like he knew she'd been crying.

"I lied to you," she said.

"About what?" he asked softly, not sure if he should come in.

"I don't want to talk." Her eyes started to water and she looked down. For once she told him the truth. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to be anywhere near him.

He just nodded, regret in his eyes, and said "I know." He stepped inside. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively as he looked over the garbage bags on the living room floor, noticing that down the corridor her mattress was bare. She went to the couch, picking up his pile of clothes and handing them to him. "These are yours," she said, biting back tears. "I thought you'd want them back."

He nodded in gratitude and took them into his hands, tenderly brushing hers as he did so. He looked over the bags on the floor again. "Do you want me to get rid of these for you?"

She nodded silently.

He went and looked through them briefly, seeing the other Olivia's clothes, her make-up, everything she brought here that wasn't there before. "What do you want me to do with all this?"

"I don't care. Just take it away from here."

He nodded and gathered everything up to take it to his car. He hesitated at the door. There was a look between them now – like both of them wanted to say something but neither of them had the courage to.

"Livia, I'm so sorry. I know I can't take it back or make up for it, but if there's anything I can do -"

"I know. It's fine. We're good."

He nodded solemnly and reluctantly left; bags in hand. She rushed to the door and closed it behind him, leaning against its cold wooden surface and sliding to the floor. Before she knew it she was sobbing again. This would have hurt a million times less if she didn't care for him. Because the opposite of love isn't hate – it's indifference. She hated him right now more than she'd ever hated anything. But the hate meant she still cared.

She knew that one day she'd be able to forgive him. She loved him too much not to. But not tonight. She tried to convince herself that it wasn't his fault. He had no idea. She was really the one he fell for, not her. It was just a mistake. She meant nothing to him.

She wished she could believe that.

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