Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or Fringe.

Chapter Eight

They'd bandaged Olivia up, though she had not needed an overnight stay. Peter had been with her the whole time. Olivia was somewhat surprised by his level of concern—then again, she knew that she would behave similarly if he had been in her situation. Losing one another was scary to think about, and it have it nearly happen was unfathomable. She'd been given yet another pair of scrubs, these from the hospital, to wear, since the scrubs she'd worn at the warehouse had been torn and bloodied.

Peter wanted to get the hell out of there and home, before they had to deal with any more of it. Olivia, on the other hand, needed to settle with the BAU. She found some of the team in the waiting room, as well as Broyles. He, though, sat on the opposite side, staring at his hands, choosing to ignore the BAU completely. When he saw Olivia, he stood, and she moved to speak to him first, and the three of them made their way into the hallway for privacy.

"I'm glad to see you're alright, Agent Dunham." Stoic, as always. However much it seemed that he and Hotch disliked each other, they were quite similar. "And I'm glad the case is over with. Everyone is either dead, or in custody. We made sure of it. The evidence collected from the warehouse is being processed as we speak."

Olivia nodded, pressing her lips together, before replying, "Good." And then she watched as Broyles sent yet another vicious glare toward the other team. She and Peter exchanged a look, before she said, "Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what's your problem with the BAU?"

She was relieved when he did not answer with anger, but with a simple explanation, though his words were laced with spite. "I'm not big on their techniques. I don't always trust what they do, and I still don't feel as if they helped much."

"That's not all, though. Something happened to make you feel this way toward them."

He actually smirked a bit. "I worked with the BAU on a previous case, a very long time ago, before the Fringe Division had even been conceived. Some of the people were different—it consisted of Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Reid, as well as others you probably don't know of. Let's just say the case ended badly."

She nodded—she understood. "You weren't there, though, through most of the case. They are all very competent agents. It might do you good to reconsider your impression of them." She shrugged.

Broyles' expression softened just the slightest bit. "I may do that, Dunham." He nodded to her and Peter. "Get some rest."

"Thanks."

And as he left the room, Peter turned to her and said, "Listen, I know you want to talk to the other agents, and I need to call Walter. I don't think anyone's let him know that you're all safe, yet. So, I'll meet you in the waiting room when you're done?"

She reached out and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, smiling. "Sounds good."

#

Prentiss's wounds hadn't warranted an overnight stay, either; the laceration on her cheek had been stitched up, and gauze had been taped over the sutures. Hotch, however, had not been so lucky. The drugs he'd been given were quite powerful, and though he'd been given something by the doctors to help flush them from his system, he needed to stay in the hospital until they were sure all traces of the drugs were gone. They'd given him a sedative inside the ambulance as well, because, apparently, coming down from the drugs was going to be a bitch. He'd been unconscious ever since, and she'd been at his bedside since they'd fixed her up.

It seemed the sedative was beginning to wear off, though, because she swore she saw his eyelids flickering open. Yes, they were—he blinked, coughed a couple of times, and the beeping of the heart rate monitor hastened.

"Prentiss?"

"Yeah, Hotch, I'm right here." He coughed again, and she stood, moving to the cart pushed to the wall to pour him a bit of water. As she handed it to him, she said, "How are you feeling?"

He took a sip. "Like it's a Sunday morning and I'm back in college." His expression was deadpan, despite the joke, though it took on a hint of worry as he asked, "What about you?"

Her hand moved to the gauze on her face, grazing the injury. "I'll be fine. Do you remember what happened?"

"I do, yes. Well, I remember the crash, and waking up in that room, but not much more than that. It's all a bit hazy." His brows furrowed. "Are you sure you're alright? Nothing else happened in there…?"

She settled back into the chair, patting his hand. "Nothing else happened, Hotch, I promise. Everything is fine."

"And Agent Dunham?"

"She's going to be fine, too."And a strange sort of look came over her face—pensive, and curious.

"What is it?" he asked, but before she could reply, there was a knock at the door. Both their heads shot toward the source of the noise. There stood Olivia, smiling gently.

"Mind if I step in for a moment?"

Prentiss beckoned with a wave of her hand. "Of course."

She moved toward the bed, though she did not sit. Instead, she stood at the foot, her hands clasped behind her back, her eyes moving from Prentiss to Hotch. "I'm glad to see you're looking better."

"Thank you; I'm feeling much better, too." He noticed now that Prentiss was looking at Olivia with that same strange look, though he thought it would be rude to ask of its origin in front of her.

It seemed, though, he'd be getting at least somewhat of an answer when Prentiss turned in her chair to face Olivia more directly, but Olivia spoke before she could.

"I wanted to thank you for your help on the case, and apologize for what you had to go through. I never thought the case would end up the way it did, or else I would've never asked your team to consult." She stood there, looking as if she expected some sort of chastisement—the guilt was eating away at her. But instead, Prentiss smiled.

"There's no need to apologize, Agent Dunham. Everything turned out alright." She seemed to forgotten about the laceration on her face, or so Olivia thought. "We're all fine—or, at least, we're going to be." She turned to Hotch, gave him a look, before again facing Olivia. "I think this case gave us…a new perspective on the world. I mean, I thought our team handled gruesome cases; things that the general public didn't really know about. But, seeing what I'm sure is just a glimpse of what you deal with everyday, well…I don't think I want to know."

Olivia couldn't help the grin that crossed her face. "You're probably right."

Hotch nodded. "Yes, you are. I would certainly not be adverse to working with your team again if it ever came to that—and, if Agent Broyles agreed, of course."

"Oh," said Olivia, "I spoke with Agent Broyles, and I think he has a new perspective on it all, now." She moved forward, reaching out her hand. "We'll keep in touch." She shook hands with the two of them, and with one last goodbye, she left the room. Prentiss turned back to Hotch..

"Do you ever get the feeling," she asked, "that, sometimes, you have no clue as to what's really going on in the world?"

"What do you mean?" He wasn't sure if it was the drugs, or if she truly wasn't making any sense.

"I don't know. I just feel like all of them—Agent Dunham, the Bishops—deal with things we can't even begin to fathom."

He shrugged. "Ignorance is bliss, sometimes. They're the unlucky ones that don't have that."

#

It seemed that the hospital was not the last place they'd be seeing the BAU. Rather, Reid and JJ had shown up at Walter's lab quite soon after Peter and Olivia arrived on their way back from the hospital. Reid had dragged JJ along with him, saying something about needing to get some things he left behind, but the liaison was pretty sure there was more to his visit than some forgotten markers and maps.

Of course, before they arrived, Walter had been ecstatic as soon as Olivia and Peter walked through the door. Astrid had left not much earlier, and it seemed in the time he'd been alone, he'd busied himself with a concoction of who-knows-what. He explained,

"If you're looking something that'll really help with the pain—not that garbage the doctor's gave you—then this is the stuff." When Olivia assured him she was fine, he said, "You know, Peter was very worried about you, Olivia. I was too, of course, but Peter—" He'd cut him off before he could go any further, and she had smiled. That was when Reid and JJ came through the door.

"Oh, Dr. Reid!" said Walter, "I just found that article you had asked me about—the one about the incident in 1954. Agent Farnsworth had helped me locate it in the FBI's database, and I thought you'd like to take a look at it. The case is quite interesting."

Peter titled his head toward Olivia, his lips twitching with amusement. "Looks like Walter's found himself a friend."

"One almost as quirky as he is, too," she agreed, watching the scene unfold. It seemed as if JJ were just as amused, for she stood near the stairs with her arms crossed, looking both impatient and secretly pleased.

Peter raised his voice when it soon became apparent that the two were lost in conversation, and would not be stopping anytime soon. "Hey, Walter! We have to head home."

Walter held up his hand, his eyes still focused on Reid, as the younger man continued to chatter animatedly. "Yes, yes. Hold on a moment, son."

"Walter…" Peter warned, but Walter wasn't listening. He looked to JJ, who was shaking her head slowly.

"I know," she said, "but once he gets going, he's not going to stop. It seems like Dr. Bishop is the same way." She chuckled.

At last, the conversation ended, only after Reid and Walter had exchanged phone numbers—Walter had to be reminded of his by Peter. The ending was reluctant, but JJ nearly had to drag Reid out of the lab.

"He's an incredibly interesting man," rambled Walter, as the three walked out to the car.

"What exactly were you talking to him about, Walter?" said Peter, and Olivia nodded, wondering the same thing.

"He had read about some of my work a while ago, and I found one of the articles written on it, so I shared it with him."

"And this work was based on what, exactly?"

"Mind control."

Olivia frowned. "But, that was involved in our case, too."

"Yes, I know. Strange coincidence, but that is only what it is. I, of course, never perfected that particular method, though—"

"Okay, I think I get the gist." Peter cut him off with the slam of the car door, efficiently shutting him inside. He turned to Olivia, his expression softer. "You'll come over?"

She fingered the bandages on her arm, and smiled softly. "Yes, but we're sleeping." She grimaced. "Maybe I'll take Walter up on his offer for those pain killers—"

"Olivia…"

"I'm kidding. I'll meet you at your house, alright?"

He leaned forward, wrapping a gentle arm around her waist, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "Sounds good. I'll make sure Walter's out of the way."

He watched her move toward her own car, then clambered into the driver's side of his rickety sedan. Walter sat beside him, grinning widely. "I'm glad Olivia's back," he said. Then,

"Do you think she'd like some crepes?"

THE END

Author's Note: I've decided I have nothing more to add. I'm satisfied with how this ended up. Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing, etc.