Chapter Twenty-One

It wasn't long before Olivia was discharged, allowed to go because the doctors could do nothing more for her than keep her swathed in pain medication, and tell her to stay in bed for the next couple of weeks. Fat chance, though Peter and Walter had made it clear that they would certainly try their hardest to make sure these directions were followed. Peter was due for a bit of bed rest as well, and it really was the only thing he wanted at the moment. No more high-speed chases or shootouts, or dramatic standoffs. Sleep was much preferable.

Olivia was adamant that she did as much on her own as she could. Her body, still stiff, worked against her wishes, but she was a trooper, and Peter admired her will. He was merely glad she was alive, and that appreciation hadn't faded since they'd found each other at Reiden Lake.

The night they arrived home, Walter prepared dinner—thankfully, something edible—and then offered Olivia a concoction of his own pain medication, that would "work wonders, much better than what the doctors had prescribed". She'd declined, favoring a bath instead. Hopeful, Peter had followed her, but a closed bathroom door made it clear she wanted to be alone. She was in there for a while, nearly an hour, when he thought it to be advantageous to check on her, just in case. He knocked. A beat, and then he heard her, her voice low,

"You can come in."

He sidled inside, the warmth and steam assimilating his senses; the scene of soap, and the view of her, barely hidden beneath the foamy water. He locked the door behind him, and knelt to sit beside her, the plush carpet beside the tube not doing much, comfort-wise, on the tile flooring. The nights she spent there were mostly behind locked doors. They'd had a few near misses with Walter, and tonight, neither wanted to be faced in another awkward situation.

Her eyes were closed, and he wished she would look at him, though he relished the moment, sweeping his eyes over her. The color had returned to her face, the bruising was beginning to change color to indicate healing. The strain in her expression, however—the little wrinkle in her brown—was still there, a clear indicator of her pain. He laid his hand on her shoulder, his touch light. There was some bruising on her back as well, though he wasn't sure what it was from. The ligature marks, raw patches on her wrists and ankles, were clearly from her time held captive. It pained him, physically pained him, to know that, while he'd been kept in somewhat bearable conditions, she'd been strapped to a cot, and instilled with the fear of death and mutilation.

She opened her eyes at last, and they were bloodshot. He asked, "How's the pain?"

Olivia snorted, while unconsciously leaning into his touch. "Honestly? Worse. The morphine wore off."

"The doctor gave you meds. You want me to get them?"

"No." She sighed. "Stay. I want you to stay."

He settled into an easier position, cross-legged at the edge of the bath. Wordlessly, he took a bottle of shampoo, poured a bit into his hand, and began to work it through her hair. Her arms were stiff; she'd have never been able to do it herself, not without pain. And, he knew she appreciated the gesture, from the way her posture relaxed just the slightest bit. The tension was fading from the air.

"I can't imagine what you went through back there, Olivia," he said, after a long bout of silence, his hands trailing through wet strands of hair, "having been back there a second time. I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize, Peter, please don't." She would've craned her neck to look back at him, but she couldn't. Instead, she maneuvered herself so that she was facing him, his fingers now laced behind her neck, foreheads nearly touching. "We went back there because we had to, to save the universe. I would've gone through anything to do that."

His thumb trailed across the abrasion on her face, the healing tissue rough beneath his finger. She smelled not of antiseptic any longer, but of something sweet. "You're always so brave, 'Livia. You don't have to be, not with me. You can't be brave all the time. You'll go mad."

She brought her fingers to his face, fingertips brushing his jaw. "It's the only way I can cope. If I talk about it…if I think about it…I can't. It's too raw."

He stood then, holding out a towel for her, helping her stand with a firm grip on her upper arm. He wrapped her in it, pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm here, and I'll listen to whatever you want to tell me."

Her smile was grim, though it brightened as his lips met hers, softly, just a brisk touch. Making sure the coast was clear, they made their way to the bedroom, avoiding Walter; he was still in the kitchen. She lay back atop the covers, the towel barely covering her, though she didn't seem to mind. He settled beside her, rolled over on his side to face her. But her expression had gone dark again. She was upset, as clear as day, but it was so much more than that. A storm cloud had settled over them, and it was up to her whether it'd be leaving soon, or not.

"What is it, 'Livia?" Truth be told, the only thing he wanted was to lie there next to her, to hear her breath, to simply know she was alive. Her wants were much more complex. He moved toward her, a hand slipping beneath the towel to rest against the gentle slope of her hip, nose pressed against her cheek. He could feel her shallow, erratic breaths coming in short puffs.

The words weren't more than a whisper, if that. "I'm a monster."

"No, no," he murmured, his free hand coming up to her face. "Haven't we talked about this, already? It wasn't your fault, you didn't mean to do it."

"Exactly." The way she tucked herself closer to him, as if he were her lifeline, was absolutely killing him—they hadn't been in such proximity for quite a while now, and his body was dragging his mind from her words. He sucked in a deep breath; now was not the time. "I didn't mean to. What if I got angry with you, or Walter, and thought something I really didn't mean? What then?"

He chuckled, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I doubt you'll be that angry at either of us." It didn't work. She cocked a brow, eyes glistening. "Okay, listen. As soon as we take some time to recover from all of this, we'll explain it all to Walter, and ask him what you can do to try and gain control over it. Okay?" She nodded, now silent. Then, she said,

"You were right, you know." Before he could ask 'about what?', she continued, "I've never liked…feeling helpless. Having to experience something like that, without having means to stop it, is…I can't put it into words." Her face was drawn. She looked so small, right then, so sad. "I still have nightmares about the first time."

"It'll never happen again. You never have to go back there."

It tore him apart to see her like this, so out of control of her own self, and he knew how much she hated it. She was always in control, always the master of her own emotions—at least, when she could help it. Now was not one of those times. And he was there for her, as she was for him.

Both hands moved to cup her face, now, forehead resting against hers, and he focused solely on her. "It's over. We're here, and we'll keep on doing what we've always done: saving our universe. And we won't have to worry about the Other Side, because, at least for now, those problems are all over and done with. We'll be here, together, with our own little motley bunch of a family." Her shoulders shook, in an odd mixture of a laugh, hiccup, and sob.

"A family," she repeated, softly, "haven't had a normal one in a while."

"Well, you're outta luck there, hon." He pressed his lips to her cheek, travelling downward, as he murmured against the soft skin of her neck, "Normal isn't exactly a word that comes to mind when I think about all of this."

She sighed, rolling onto her back as his hands moved to her side, legs straddling her hips. "Normal, in the sense that we're all…" Her breath hitched in her throat. "…happy with each other."

"Mhm, well, we do have that."

Right then and there, with her hands, still stiff, yet warm against his back, and her voice, simply her there with him, he knew why they had still been together, fifteen years into the future, and why his future-self had been so destroyed when she'd been taken from him. There was an implicit sureness between them—a certain want—a tacit knowing that they wanted to be with each other for a long, long time. Right then and there, he was prepared to marry her, to ask her, but he knew that she deserved more than that moment, though she certainly would've denied the fact. And it seemed his musings had taken over his actions for a moment, because she prodded his shoulder with outstretched fingers, and he shook the vacant look from his face.

"You alright?"

He smiled down at her, lips meetings hers for a quick second. "Much more than alright."

#

He woke to sunlight, warm on his face, seeping through his bones, and her arms tangled around his waist, her chest to his back. She was out cold, for the first time in what he knew must've been a long while, and he was intent on not waking her. He was successful, managing to sneak out of bed and pull on a t-shirt and sweats, though he was met with Walter in the kitchen, already bent over the stove.

"Ah, Peter, wonderful!" Peter cringed, hoping Walter's booming voice hadn't woken Olivia. "You're just in time for some breakfast. Olivia'll be up too, I hope?"

"Not just yet, she's still sleeping."

"Oh." Walter grimaced. "I'll try to be quiet, then."

Peter settled onto a stool, leaning over the counter. "That'd be nice, yeah." He peered over at the stove, relishing the domesticity of it all. "What're you making?"

"Pancakes. Thought it'd be nice, after what you went through…" He shuffled around, facing Peter, his face contorted into such a look of sadness. "You were gone for the longest time—the both of you were. We didn't know where you'd gone, or why you were." Then, his face brightened, just an infinitesimal amount. "But I knew you'd come back."

"Walter, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't know what happened, or what you prevented, but I have the strangest feeling that it'll do both universes well." His mouth quirked; not quite a smile, but close. "I don't know what I would've done if you both hadn't come back…"

"Hey, don't say that. We're here, and we're not leaving." He stood, moving to rest his hands on Walter's shoulders. "We'll go on as we always have, saving our universe, catching bad guys—"

"Don't forget about the bodies." That bit of excitement had returned to his voice, and their smiles matched each other. They both turned at the sound of footsteps from down the hall, and soon after, Olivia appeared at the doorway. She leaned against the wall, smirking, arms crossed. The stiffness hadn't gone, and she was a bit wobbly on her feet, but that familiar sense of—the only way Peter could think to explain it was herself, she was just so herself at that moment—had returned.

"Good morning, Olivia!" Walter's grin widened, and he moved forward to sweep her into his arms. "I'm so happy to see you, up and around!" He nearly lifted her off the ground, and Peter watched the exchange with amusement, and adulation.

Once he'd let her down, she said, "Thank you, Walter. It all smells wonderful."

"Ah, breakfast!" He scurried back to the stove, calling behind him, "It'll just be ready in a moment." And as he busied himself with that, Peter swooped behind her, arms wrapping around her stomach, lips finding the curve of her neck.

"Morning, 'Livia."

"Peter…" She sounded coy, glancing up at Walter, though he was oblivious (or was pretending to be).

"Don't worry about him. I hope we didn't wake you…"

"No," she murmured, leaning back into him, "no, the sun did. It was nice."

"Good." He rested his head atop her shoulder, hunched over so her body was still pressed flush to his, his hands splayed across her front. It was in that moment that he felt a happiness that had previously been so unfamiliar to them both, and the moment wasn't fleeting, either, as it had normally been. It stayed, a weight in his stomach, but it was a wonderful feeling, and he was sure she felt it, too.

THE END

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who stuck with this until the end. I'm grateful that people have actually been reading this, and please, don't forget to tell me what you thought of this last chapter. I'm sorry that it took me so long to get out, but life got in the way.

Again, thank you so much.