Distorted

Summary: Somehow, the image is too blurred to see anything, neither their relationship nor who they are. Drabble.

Warning: Drabble.

Set: Story-unrelated but not necessarily AU.

Disclaimer: No copyright inFringement intended.

This could be a nightmare of hers but sadly, it isn't.

There is a bomb in her bag. And Olivia runs and runs, away from the crowd, along the street, across the intersections. She does not encounter traffic today, only people, people and more people, and she curses the day the senators decided to have a huge festival in the middle of the city.

She has to get away, as quickly as possible, has to take the threat out of the center of the crowds as quickly as possible. The bomb will be set off soon and if it does – when it does – many, many people will die. But finding a secluded, empty space in the middle of Boston is nearly impossible, so she runs and runs and runs. Her breath comes heavily and she is panting hard, but there is no place in sight where she can rest and the clock does not stop ticking. She crosses another intersection. Dives under a railing. Skirts a construction site.

The bag grows heavier with every passing second.

Finally, she reaches a little yard and there, only, notices she has been followed. Peter is panting as heavily as she is and she does not even have the strength left to scream at him to run. His expression is set into the determined mask she knows only all too well. He won't leave her, no matter what she does, except when she shoots him first but both know there isn't time for it. At the same time, both whirl around at the sound of her name, and they see someone has been waiting for them. Premonition. But whatever gift the bomb-builder has does not matter, because they will be dead soon. This man is fault, he has endangered so many people, he has already caused so many deaths…

Olivia launches herself at the man, the bag with the bomb still in her hand and red-hot fury and bone-crushing fear dancing inside her, she hears Peter's yell directly behind her and a vice closing around her one arm and the world goes black.

…

Later that day.

Much, much later, after hours of debriefing and reporting and explaining and skirting the media, after a check-up from some doctors forced on them by Broyles and an official order issued by the same superior to go home and not return until the day after tomorrow. Much later, she finds herself on her sofa at home, feeling so exhausted she cannot stand, less even think, anymore. As Peter settles down next to her heavily, she lifts her head with a huge effort.

"That's dangerous," she tells him, her voice still hoarse. Her brain does not seem to work properly. He's glowing, she can see it clearly, but maybe it's the last sun-light falling in through the windows.

"What is dangerous?"

"You sitting here."

"Why?"

"Because I don't intend of letting go of you for the rest of the night."

What they saw shocked them both more than anyone of them would like to admit. Pure exhaustion lets her say the stupidest things. But even though she knows it is stupid it does not feel like it is. She scoots over to where he sits until she is positioned almost on his lap and wraps his arms around him, pressing herself against him as hard as possible to feel he – and she – are still there. She needs to hold him now, needs to feel his heart beat against his ribs, needs to know he is still alive. She needs to hold on to something, anyone, and the fact that he is there lessens the uproar on the inside marginally. But only marginally. She can still feel everything, see everything, and without someone to hold on to it would be unbearable. She would go mad, for sure. He does not try to stop her, only regards her with a look she has come to know. For a few seconds, maybe even minutes, he lets her cling to him like a drowning man clings to the last piece of driftwood. Then he loosens her arms around him just enough to look into her face properly. His voice is husky.

"I thought we could distract each other in a slightly different way," he says, and to make his point sufficiently clear his hands wander down her sides. She shivers. Adrenaline is fading from both their systems only slowly and her body responds to his touch immediately. As he leans forward she follows his lead, until their lips are only millimeters away from each other. He kisses her, softly first, then growing hungrier, the pressure of his lips increasing, and her heart beats so hard she feels it slam against her ribs. Desperation and shock turn into hunger, into raw need, and she answers his kisses as forcefully as he kisses her until she suddenly remembers something.

Cold and clear.

She pulls away, taking his face between her hands. He is breathing heavily, his eyes glazed with need, and his breath ghosts over her face. Everything in her screams to lean forward and to kiss him again.

"I'm not her."

Her voice is hoarse. She does not want to say the words but the urge to say them is insane.

"Peter, I'm not her. I'm not Olivia. I'm not."

Peter looks at her, silently, the need for her so clear in his eyes it cuts her heart and shatters her last remnants of restraint. Under her hands, his skin is warm. In his eyes she can only see her own reflection.

Olivia gives in and lets him push her down onto the sofa.

A/N: For anyone who is interested in what the heck exactly happened (so nobody can accuse me of being random in this one): some guy with the ability of premonition was caught in a world that wasn't his (since frontiers shift and worlds break apart as a part of Walternate's evil plan to destroy our universe). So he built a bomb to trigger Olivia's ability to change worlds (fear, exactly), and when the bomb was about to go off she got hold of him and carried him (and Peter and herself) to a strange place in which there was absolutely nothing (what shocked them so much since it had been a world but now was entirely devastated). The bomb did go off there, but they had already left. Probably it was a future world of ours.

As to the question what Olivia meant with her statement that she wasn't Olivia, I'll leave it to you to find your own answer. Hmm, I like the implications of this story!^^