A/N: I know. I jinxed myself with that last author note. But hey, there was still a month to go before the two years anniversary of when I last updated this, so technically, it did not take years.

I really, really do hate myself. I have no life. Just work work work.

If you're reading this, bless you. I hope you enjoy it. I first came up with this story's entire plot in the summer of 2011, so to say I've lost perspective would be an understatement. Also, I'm tired. I'll fixed typos later.

CHAPTER SEVEN - BACK TO WHERE YOU'VE ALREADY BEEN

"Then we cross over."

Disbelief was the first thing Peter felt upon hearing Olivia's words.

When a couple of seconds passed and he realized she meant it, disbelief was replaced by something close to indignation, more than a little offended at the thought.

There was no way in hell he was going to let her go back there.

"That is out of the question," he said before anyone else could, his voice resembling a growl. He didn't even look at her as he spoke, staring at the man who had dared suggesting it, his resentment having flared up again. "Walter, you cannot ask her to go back to the Other Side."

"Peter," Olivia interrupted him at once, not unkindly, but firmly.

When he met her eyes, she shook her head. She was getting paler by the second, but the look on her face was obstinate; he knew that look. It meant her mind was set, and nothing anyone could say would make a damn difference.

"It's not like we have a choice," she said, quietly. "And to be honest, I think you need to come, too. You're probably the only person who can reason with the Secretary. This war has gone on for far too long, and for all the wrong reasons. It's time we try and make peace with them, and the only way to do that is through your Father."

"He tried to kill you," Peter countered, once again incensed. "He tortured you, kept you in a confinement cell for weeks, brainwashed you, and then tried to cut you open so that he could –"

"Don't," Olivia stopped him again, her voice cracking a little as he face scrunched up in obvious discomfort, eyes closed. When she shuddered, the tremors were so strong that everyone must have seen them.

She soon reopened her eyes, and met his gaze dead-on, shaking her head. Despite her pale skin and obvious anxiety, her frustration was unmistakable.

"This goes way beyond me, or what was done to me, and you know it." Her voice and demeanor became nothing short of fierce as she added: "And this thing you keep on doing, turning me into a victim just so you can make a point? It stops right now."

Holding her gaze and seeing the hurt and disappointment in her eyes, Peter swallowed hard. Olivia had mentioned some of what had happened to her Over There in the report she wrote after coming back, but most of what he'd said came from private conversations they had, painful admissions she'd revealed to him and him alone.

He had no right to use it against her the way he had, making her look more helpless than she'd ever been, betraying her trust in the process.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quivering slightly, his anger replaced by shame.

Olivia glared at him for a few more seconds, before her face softened. She remained grave, though, nothing in this situation warranting a smile of any kind. "This is not a decision I'm making lightly. The Other Side is the last place I want to be."

Everything in her body language backed up her words; she looked more sickly than she had at any point today.

"Liv's right, though," she continued. "We can't simply turn off the Machine from here, and do to them what they're trying to do to us." After taking another steadying breath, she added: "You need to think about your son."

With those words, they all knew she'd won. Nothing Peter could say would counter that. The fact alone that she was labelling the child's safety as a priority was both humbling and humiliating. For all intents and purposes, the boy's existence was more hurtful to her than it was to him, considering how the boy had come to be.

Yet there she was, putting him first, something Peter had failed to do so far.

"Thank you."

Liv's words were quiet, but sincere.

Olivia looked at her. "I'm not doing this for you," she said.

"I know," Liv tilted her head. "Thank you anyway."

Peter closed his eyes, rubbing his sore neck, having no other choice but to admit he was outnumbered. He did not approve of this, but he was not foolish enough to try going against two Olivia Dunham.

"All right then!" Walter exclaimed with too much enthusiasm, thrilled by the various challenges that still stood in their way. "This means we have work to do. Making all three of you cross over is going to require some logistic."

"How are you expecting us to cross over, exactly?" Olivia asked, and Peter loathed seeing all these signs of distress on her, signs that were like booming sirens to him.

She seemed ready to crawl out of her skin, her complexion pale, almost waxy, a thin layer of perspiration covering her forehead. Although she was tensed and immobile, arms crossed and holding on to her elbows in a death grip, she swayed on the spot, almost imperceptibly.

Her expression was set, though, and he knew no amount of arguing or threatening would change her stubborn mind.

"I'm afraid the burden once again falls on you, dear," Walter answered, having the decency to sound apologetic.

Olivia shook her head, swaying a bit more noticeably. "There's no way I can make several of us cross over on my own. The last time I successfully traveled between universes, it was just me, and I had to be drugged and in the tank. Before that, we did it as a group, with the other Cortexiphan subjects, something we obviously can't do anymore."

"Once again, you underestimate yourself," Walter said, not unkindly. "For one thing, you seem to forget that you will be doing it with Peter."

She didn't look at Peter, her entire focus on Walter. "And...?"

"Well, his proximity alone, not to mention the emotional turmoil you will be experiencing at the time, means that an extra dose of Cortexiphan won't be necessary. Not for you, in any case."

Peter finally looked away from Olivia's shaky form to glare at his father. "What do you mean by that?" He demanded.

"Olivia's alternate," Walter explained, pointing at Liv. "I have come up with a theory."

"Uh, what theory?" Liv asked, not even trying to conceal her distrust.

"One that involves Cortexiphan, and the fact that you may be able to act as a booster to Olivia in the process of crossing over."

"This doesn't make any sense," Olivia responded, her frustration bringing some colors back to her cheeks. "Are you saying she could do what I do?"

"Of course not," Walter said, as if offended by the suggestion. "Your abilities are what they are because the chemicals have been bonded to your neurons since early childhood, even if they were dormant for most of your life. However, the fact that she could see the glimmer proves that she is responsive to your Cortexiphan, when any other adult would have died from it. The tests I have run on her blood samples also lead me to believe that today might not have been the first time she was exposed to it."

There was a pause, as they took his words in.

"You mean...my abduction?" Liv asked, unsure.

"Precisely," he said, and as Peter grunted in disbelief, Walter raised a hand, "No, no, hear me out," he continued. "We know Walternate obtained samples of Olivia's Cortexiphan during her time Over There, and it is safe to assume he's been replicating it and testing it on subjects, yes?"

"Then he would have found out that it's lethal to adults," Peter countered him. "If he went to that much trouble to make sure the child was born, why would he put her at risk by injecting her with it?"

Before Walter could answer, Olivia did it for him. "That's assuming it was Walternate's idea. Maybe he had nothing to do with it at all."

Peter looked at her; what little color she'd regained a minute ago was already gone, and again, he had to fight the urge to move closer to her. "What do you mean?"

"Brandon?" she suggested, shrugging a shoulder with a small, uncomfortable smile. Her efforts to make this sound trivial made it obvious it was anything but. "The Brandon Fayette from their side? He was the one in charge of every experiment they conducted on...on anything regarding my abilities."

"Yes, of course!" Walter exclaimed, once more delighted, as usual oblivious to Olivia's quiet distress. "This is a bit far stretched, of course, given our lack of concrete evidence, but he would have known the child would be protected from the drugs in utero, and if we assume that he didn't care about the mother's survival, we can hypothesize that he did use Cortexiphan on her. Especially if he found out about its regenerative properties. Even if it were to eventually kill Miss Dunham here, taking into account the metabolic rate of absorption and the rate of the acceleration, the baby would have been born safely before she died."

"That's great, Walter," Liv commented, more than a little sardonically. "But what are you saying exactly, that I could develop the same abilities?"

"I am quite certain I already answered that question," Walter replied sternly, peering at her. "No. You will never develop Olivia's abilities. Your identical genotype merely means that the drug isn't fatal to you, and that it does heal you to some extent. By injecting you with Cortexiphan before she attempts to cross over with you and Peter, however, Olivia could...harness your energy, for lack of better word. This, combined with Peter's proximity, should allow the three of you to cross over successfully."

"This is extremely far stretched," Peter felt the need to point out. "Not to mention possibly lethal." Everything in him still screamed in protest at the idea of putting Olivia through this, but he knew better than to try changing her mind at this point.

"If we don't do anything, we will all be dead in a matter of days," Walter said, echoing words Peter had spoken twenty-four hours ago.

If we do nothing, we're all gonna die.

When Walter focused his cold gaze on Olivia, she shuddered under his stare. But there was only resolve in her voice when she said:

"Then we try."

…

Less than an hour later, they were in the air, on their way to New York.

The energy that habited the small jet was less than pleasant. It did not help that the plane kept on being shaken with rather violent tremors every time a lightning strike zapped too close.

The fact that Walter was attempting to perform minor surgery on her despite the turbulences did nothing to soothe Liv's mind. He'd gone as far as to strap her arm to the armrest, in the hope that he wouldn't slice off some of her nerves or something.

"You sure you don't want to wait until we touch down?" She asked. She knew she should look away from what he was doing, but she was unable not to stare.

Her arm had been numbed from her elbow to the tip of her fingers –he'd assured her the anesthesia would wear off by the time they were ready to leave. She was glad it was working at the moment, though, as he'd already given her skin and muscles a few slices of his scalpel.

"The time is of the essence," he replied distractedly, probing inside the wound, searching for her tracker. She really should look away.

Across from her, Olivia stared, too, with the same kind of disgusted fascination.

Astrid offered them a welcome distraction when she cleared her throat across the aisle, and everybody's focus changed – except Walter's.

"I've had a thought," she explained. "Since Liberty Island is out of the question, unless you want to be arrested theS moment you appear, I've been thinking about what would be the most convenient place for you three to cross over. Then, there's the problem with soft spots. From the data Walter and I collected, it seems that activating both Machines have messed that up, too. It would be pretty much impossible to detect a soft spot, now. Unless we create our own."

"Go on," Walter said, having completely disregarded Liv's open wound to look at his assistant, his interest piqued.

"Remember that case we had a couple of months ago in New York, with that old lady who'd lost her husband and refused to let him go?"

Liv did not imagine the way both Olivia and Peter shifted in their seats, but they all nodded.

"That's when we theorized emotions could actually play a role in how thick or thin the fabric between our universes was," Astrid continued. "I believe we can use that to our advantage, tonight."

"How?" Olivia asked.

"I think we need to go to Chinatown."

…

"This is insane," Liv said for what might be the fifth time since Astrid's suggestion, half an hour ago.

They had found the shop in which she had given birth to her son a few weeks ago, the place now empty, FBI raids oblige.

"This is actually quite brilliant," Walter said, beaming with pride at Astrid, and Olivia thought the young woman would have looked more pleased with herself if the world hadn't been ending around them.

"I just don't get how being here is gonna make a difference. This place doesn't mean anything to her," Liv said, "and she's the one who's going to do most of the work."

"It means a lot to you, though, doesn't it?" Walter asked.

"Well, yeah," Liv said. She looked uncomfortable being here, which was the point, proving that Astrid's idea might just work. "It was a rather intense night for me."

"Good!" Walter exclaimed. "The more intense the connection, the thinner the fabric between our two worlds should be."

Broyles, who had come closer, gave Olivia a stern look, one she'd seen many times before. She moved to join him. "I don't think this is a good idea," he felt the need to tell her.

Olivia smiled a tired, resigned smile. "We never have much of a choice though, do we?"

"The last time you crossed over, you had some sort of stroke," Broyles pointed out, and Olivia met Peter's eyes, who stood further away in the room, arms crossed, scowling away.

She had no doubt he would be arguing this himself, if she hadn't asked him to stop.

"I have to try," Olivia said, looking back at Broyles. She was reminded of his counterpart, who had looked just as conflicted on their last few interactions. "I need to honor the promise I made, Over There," she continued, quietly. "Both our worlds can and will be healed. I know this is the way."

After a long silence, Broyles nodded, "Alright," he said, having long ago learned to trust her instincts. "Be careful." Then, to Peter. "And make sure she comes home, this time."

Olivia didn't know if this was a joke or a true warning; either way, Peter did not take it well.

By the time she'd walked to him, his jaw was set so tight she was surprised she didn't hear his teeth grinding.

She tilted her head, trying to get him to meet her eyes. "C'mon, cheer up," she said. "We're about to do something possibly heroic. Plus, there's excitement."

He didn't crack a smile.

She sighed, putting both her hands on his crossed arms, giving them a squeeze. "Peter," she said more quietly. "I know that you don't approve, and that you're worried, but there's no other way. I need you to help me do this. I can't do it alone."

There he was, the man she loved, resurfacing from beneath his cold, sullen mask.

He let it fall away as he sighed, briefly closing his eyes. When he reopened them, he looked bare, and just as afraid as she felt. He unfolded his arms, soon bringing his hands up as she held on to his forearms, cupping her face with a tenderness that was all his.

"You're not alone," he said softly, as his forehead touched hers, and she felt his words deep in her bones. "Not this time."

…

"You may experience a bit of a head rush," Walter told her as he extracted yet another needle from her arm.

"I might also die, so I guess it wouldn't be the worst of it," Liv found herself joking without any humor, flexing her arm, wriggling her fingers tentatively.

As promised, she'd regained most feelings in the recently numbed area, the place where the Fringe Division tracker used to be now throbbing faintly under the bandage.

Liv didn't experience any dizziness, but less than a minute had passed before everything around her started to shimmer softly, an unnecessary reminder of how frightened she was.

She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on her breathing, on the knowledge that she would be home, soon. "So, what do you want me to do?" She asked Walter, who now glimmered quite strongly.

"Think back to what happened in this shop, the night you gave birth. Try and picture yourself not here, but There. Olivia will do the rest." Then, to Astrid. "I think we are about ready, where are they?"

Astrid pointed a shiny finger, indicating a spot further in the room.

There they were indeed, too far for Liv to hear what they were saying, but words were not needed to sense the intensity of the moment. Peter did not shimmer at all, making him stand out even more…except for the parts of him that were basking in her light.

His hands were on her face, his forehead resting upon hers, and against her better judgment, Liv found herself thinking back to the last time his fingers had cupped her cheek, before she'd escaped this side.

On that day, in the train station, he had been livid, consumed with anger and pain, wishing her suffering and even death, that much she had been certain of. But back when her cover was safe, when he was loving her, she had seen variances of this look; of this gentleness and his devotion.

She'd felt it in his touch.

This side of him had been…intoxicating, slowly causing the line between pretense and reality to blur a little more each day.

Are you in love with him…the father?

Liv was not in love with him, no. But she had fallen deep enough into that rabbit hole to cause something in her to ache at the sight of this real intimacy.

If all of this did come down to 'which Olivia' Peter would choose, her universe didn't stand a chance.

Next to her, Walter cleared his throat, loudly, succeeding in getting the two lovebirds' attention.

"We're ready," Walter said, with a barely concealed smile.

They let go of each other, Olivia blushing a little as they walked back to the group. Father and son shared a look and a nod, another wordless exchange that spoke volumes.

"All right, Walter," Olivia said. "How do I do this? How do I make all three of us cross over?"

"You need to make a triangle of sort. I think it will work best if you hold hands."

Olivia pursed her lips. "I hope you're joking."

"I am not," he said. "The last time, we made a circle, with me in the middle. You didn't need contact because all four of you were Cortexiphan subjects. In this case, you need a physical bond, a connection, in order to bring them with you. A group hug would be most efficient and would increase your chances of success, but given the history, holding hands might be slightly less uncomfortable."

"Now you're joking," Liv said, and Walter actually winked at her.

Rather unwillingly, they took their positions; more than a little eager to leave, Liv was first to extend her hands, holding them out, only to huff a second later, when none of them moved.

"Oh, please," Liv said, exasperated. "Let's just get this over with."

With blunt reluctance, both Peter and Olivia conceded, and soon, the three of them were holding hands. This was pretty awkward alright, but Walter didn't give them time to focus on it.

"Very well, close your eyes, all three of you," he said. His tone had dropped an octave, his voice now much lower, almost soothing. "Miss Dunham, I want you to focus your thoughts on that night, and on how you felt. Olivia, you know what to do. You know what lies right beyond the veil, you know this other world. That's where you need to be."

Liv forced herself to breathe deep, now blocking out Walter's voice as best as she could, if not for the calming musicality of his tone, and thought back to Henry's birth.

Remembering the pain was difficult, if not impossible. But she remembered the fear, how frightened she'd felt, lying on this floor, convinced that she was about to die.

And she'd feared for her baby's life almost more than for her own, which hadn't made any sense. She hadn't been able to comprehend what was happening, how she could be giving birth when hours ago, she'd only been ten weeks pregnant.

But she had felt the baby move, as she ran barefoot through the streets of Chinatown, felt it shift beneath her palm and within herself, felt him kick. And no matter how terrified she'd been, she knew then that she had to protect him.

He was hers to protect.

Promise me you'll save the baby.

Lincoln had tried so hard to protect her, as he held her through it all. He'd promised, crying for her, watching her die.

I love you.

"Olivia!"

She reopened her eyes, suddenly aware that she wasn't holding anyone's hand anymore. That thought had barely crossed her mind that her legs were giving up, all energy drained of out of her, and she crumpled to the floor.

But Peter hadn't called out for her.

While Liv was on her hands and knees, breathing through her dizziness, her alternate was out for the count, Peter checking her vitals. Liv shook her head to clear it, soon forcing herself to straighten up slightly, looking around. The fact that there was no one else but them in sight further confirmed their success.

She knew what would happen next. She looked at her watch, forgetting yet again that it was broken.

"We need to go," Liv said, hoarsely.

"Olivia needs help!" Peter almost shouted the words at her, his hands still on the unconscious woman.

"No, you don't get it," Liv said as she managed to get back on her feet, her every limb shaking, but her legs somehow supported her weight. "We just created a breach. The Fringe Division is going to be here within minutes. Trust me, it's my job, I know how fast they can send a team onsite. We need to get away from this place."

Lincoln and Charlie might be part of that team, which would play to their advantage, but she couldn't take that gamble.

The safest thing to do was to vacate the site as quickly as possible and make contact with them once they were in the clear. All she wanted to do was call her mother, insure that Lincoln had brought her son to her, as she'd asked him to do, but they needed to move, fast.

Peter seemed to come to his senses at last, as if just now processing what she'd said. He was pale and a bit shaky, but she couldn't say for sure that their crossover was the cause of it; Olivia still hadn't regained consciousness.

Liv was about to offer him help to get her up when he slipped his arms under her, and with impressive strength, stood up, Olivia a dead weight in his arms.

"Get us out of here," he grunted.

Liv didn't hesitate, leading the way to the back of the store. She had no idea what they would find, but she knew most places had a backdoor, since there was no way they were leaving through the front entrance.

Sure enough, they found the door. "It's locked," she said.

"Not for long," Peter breathed out. "Move." She did, just in time, too, as he launched himself forward, using all of his weight, plus Olivia's, and kicked at the handle. The door exploded off its hinges.

They didn't lose any more time, stepping into the back alley. "Where?" He demanded.

"It doesn't matter," Liv said, now aware of the fast approaching sound of familiar sirens in the distance. "Let's just get away."

As they did, she resisted her urge to run; Peter might be physically strong, he wouldn't be able to keep up if she did. All things considered, they did move fast through the deserted back alleys.

"Stop," he said after a while, breathless. "She's coming to."

He didn't wait for her approval and soon fell to his knees, Olivia stirring against him.

They should be far enough from the shop, now, but the further the better. Liv watched them for a few seconds, trying to catch her breath as she paced.

Olivia opened her eyes, hazily looking up. "Hey, Peter…" she whispered, almost dreamily, and Peter hugged her to him.

Liv decided this was her cue, shifting away to give them some 'privacy', while she grabbed for her ear cuff in her pocket, clipping it back to her ear.

You have 26 messages, the hollow voice told her.

"Shit," Liv breathed out. "Call Mom," she ordered; she had no time to listen to 26 messages, although such a high number sure made her dread what she was going to find out.

Marilyn picked up before the first ring. "Olivia, thank god," she exclaimed. "Where have you been, I've tried contacting you all day!"

"It's complicated, Mom," she said, pacing more and more apprehensively now. "I just need to know Henry's with you, and that he's okay."

Her mom let out a sound that froze her insides, like a strangled sob. "Oh Olive," she managed to say.

"Mom, what happened?" But on the other line, her mom was too busy crying. "Mom, calm down, please, just tell me what happened, where's Henry? Lincoln was supposed to bring him over this morning."

Truth was, she felt like she might soon find herself on the ground again, all of her limbs tingling, fear squeezing her heart and constricting her chest.

"He did," Marilyn said, trying to control herself. "He came over just after dawn. He said you were on a mission, that you'd told him to bring Henry to me if you weren't back by morning. He said he wanted to go after you, but that he had made you a promise, and that he'd stay with us. And then…"

"Then what?" she almost shouted.

"The Secretary, Olivia. He…he came to the house, with half a dozen men. Lincoln tried to stop them, but there were too many of them, they…Oh Liv, he took the baby, I am so sorry, there was nothing I could do."

…

Olivia had somehow forgotten how miserable crossing over made her feel.

She was conscious again, that much was true, but she felt…disconnected, and more than a little nauseous. She forced herself to put all of her focus on Peter, on the feel of his arms around her, the smell of him filling up her lungs with every breath she took, her face pressed to his chest.

They'd been there before, him holding her close as she slowly reconnected with reality, tethering her to this world.

Although…was it still this world?

When the worst of her nausea passed and the ache in her limbs became more acute, she carefully raised her head from his chest, looking at their surroundings. They had left the shop.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice shaky, and her throat too dry, not yet sounding like herself.

"You did it," Peter said. "We crossed over."

They both turned their heads, then, startled by Liv's voice, loud and panicked.

"Mom, calm down, please, just tell me what happened, where's Henry? Lincoln was supposed to bring him over this morning." There was a pause, followed by: "Then what?" She was almost shouting.

Whatever had happened, it was not good. Liv wasn't pacing anymore, but moving in distressed circles with a hand to her face, to her hair, then back to her face, struggling to keep herself together.

Olivia tried straightening up against Peter, but her body remained uncooperative for the most part, her muscles throbbing yet loose. "Easy," he whispered as he helped her sit up, but Olivia's focus had changed, her eyes on her alternate.

"Okay," Liv was saying. "Mom, listen. Mom. It's...it will be okay. I think I know where he took him. I just need to…where's Lincoln, now?" She listened, and what little color had been left on her face disappeared completely. "God," she breathed out, before nodding. "Mom, I have to go, I have to call Charlie, he's the only one who can help me. I will get Henry back. I'll get him back."

She pressed the earpiece to hang up, immediately giving the device another command. "Call Charlie Francis." Her voice was hoarse, and she brought a hand back to her face, swiftly wiping off the few trails that had ran down her cheeks.

Peter helped Olivia get back on her feet. He was supporting most of her weight, her legs wobbly and weak.

"Charlie, thank God," Liv said. "I just came back. I know, I know, I talked to my mom. Is Lincoln…" she let out a sound of relief. "Really? Yeah, yeah. We'll have to act fast. Listen, Charlie, I didn't come back alone. We need help getting to you. We're in Chinatown, and I can't use my ShowMe anymore. Okay. Yeah, okay." She moved away, going to the street's intersection to give Charlie their location. "Thank you, Charlie. You too."

When she came back to them, she was extremely pale, looking both crazed and panicked.

"Charlie's sending someone over to pick us up, he and Lincoln are staying at some kind of safehouse, we can decide on a plan of action there."

"Listen," Peter tried, clumsily, as there was no point in pretending they hadn't heard her conversations.

"Don't," Liv said with a shake of her head, breathing hard. "I can't say I'm surprised, this is why I needed to come back. We're here now, so the only thing we can do is keep moving and come up with a way to get Henry back, and to stop the Secretary from destroying any of our universes."

When Peter nodded, Olivia felt like they'd finally reached some kind of truce.

"You okay?" Liv asked her.

"I'm standing," she answered, her tone more amicable than it had been since their very first meeting, and Liv nodded.

"Let's move, then," she said, "We need to get to the main street."

They did move, slowly, Olivia advancing with Peter's help as she still fought off her nausea. Paranoia was sneaking in as well – a foreseeable reaction. The hour was late, and although no part of New York City ever emptied completely, the street they were now on was not heavily populated; she kept on telling herself that anyone seeing them would think them twins, not alternate versions of each other.

She could not shake off her growing panic, though, and the more she focused on their surroundings, the more aware she became of all these details that made it obvious they were indeed not in her world anymore, from the ads on the walls and vehicles, to the way all these late wanderers dressed. Even the quality of the air was different.

There was no denying it: she was back Over There.

Before long, a familiar and oppressing feeling of homesickness was resurfacing, as if it had never left.

As if she had never left at all.

Olivia leaned heavily against Peter, instinctively seeking his warmth. She felt sickly and weak, her heart thumping in her chest, her breathing too shallow. Sensing her agitation, he tightened his hold on her, pressing his lips to the top of her head, his breathing slow and reassuring against her hair.

You're not alone, not this time, he reminded her without a single word.

When a yellow cab stopped at the curve, a few feet away from where they stood, she didn't think much of it…until the driver stepped out, and she was greeted by another familiar sight.

Olivia looked straight into Henry Higgins' eyes, who seemed to be once again questioning his sanity.

TBC...

A/N: I had to.

Reviews are still better than bacon (I miss bacon). I have a three days weekend coming up, and the next chapter is virtually (almost) finished.

Yet again, the first draft of this chapter has been written since 2013 or 2014 so feel free to throw rotten fruits at me. Or reviews :D